I must have stooped to the lowest of the low today. Typed the following in my Google search box:
harry potter sparknotes
Why, you ask, would I do something as ignominious as defile the runaway phenomenon of modern publishing? Because, dear readers, I don't remember a stinking thing from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. Not even who the Half Blood Prince is. But unfortunately my Sparknoting plan was foiled because Sparknotes was only caught up to Harry Potter 4. I had to resort to Wikipedia.
As I skimmed through the plot overview, I couldn't help but be very confused: Who's Rufus Scrimgeour? Ginny and Harry kissed? Really? Ron and Hermione are going out? The Horcrux was fake? Snape was the Defense of the Dark Arts teacher? Did I even read this book?
The unfortunate answer is yes, thus demonstrating my extraordinary capacity to read a lot and remember little. This is a very useless life skill.
All this memory refreshing is expressly for the purpose of Harry Potter 7 in less than 6 hours. Obviously, my Harry Potter interest has waned since the days I awaited my Hogwarts letter, but some nostalgia draws me toward it. After all, it is the last Harry Potter.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Hallmark Card of the Day: Every Ending is a New Beginning
My first livejournal entry was about how much I disliked LJ. Alas, my first impressions held true and here I return to the blog I started. No eulogies please. It's a resurrection.
It was an established community of high school friends and acquaintances that first drew me to LJ. I had my own corner of the world wide web carefully arranged, but what use if no one came to visit? Driven to fits of nostalgia by the impending end of high school, I longed to cling to those last memories. Yes, we will separate, but we'll always keep in touch through the wonderful thing called the Internet.
It's now deep into the summer--the end of June--and I can feel all my high school connections dying. The strongest connections are stretching, fraying at the edges as we all tug in the divergent directions of college. The tenuous ones have already snapped, like string pulled too thin and too tight. But distance always grows during the summer; it's a natural consequence of things done alone and time spent apart. Usually though, we have September to retie those strings, double knot them, and become one again for the school year. We giggle and gossip and suddenly we are all friends again. Our different experiences during the summer are tantalizing exotica to share in conversation. Our differences made us unique, but it was our similarities that bound us together.
This year, there will be no September, or at least no September together. This year, distance will continue to grow. Our college experiences will become occasional wall posts, status messages, LJ entries, phone calls, and maybe anecdotes to tell at get togethers, but they will always have a foreign tang. With no more mutual experiences, the glue that bonds us dries and cracks, and we have only the past to bring us together. Our pasts may be shared, but we look toward the future and see divergent paths.
I admit to not really trying with LJ. I kinda just cowardly gave on trying to friend more people because by that time, I really was ready to move on from high school. I write about friendships fading and connections snapping, which regardless of the connotations of those words, I find to be liberating. I will go longer be bound by the expectations of my friends, classmates, and acquaintances. I am sad that the people I have shared the last 6 years with will not be with me, but I have accepted that as all right.
It was an established community of high school friends and acquaintances that first drew me to LJ. I had my own corner of the world wide web carefully arranged, but what use if no one came to visit? Driven to fits of nostalgia by the impending end of high school, I longed to cling to those last memories. Yes, we will separate, but we'll always keep in touch through the wonderful thing called the Internet.
It's now deep into the summer--the end of June--and I can feel all my high school connections dying. The strongest connections are stretching, fraying at the edges as we all tug in the divergent directions of college. The tenuous ones have already snapped, like string pulled too thin and too tight. But distance always grows during the summer; it's a natural consequence of things done alone and time spent apart. Usually though, we have September to retie those strings, double knot them, and become one again for the school year. We giggle and gossip and suddenly we are all friends again. Our different experiences during the summer are tantalizing exotica to share in conversation. Our differences made us unique, but it was our similarities that bound us together.
This year, there will be no September, or at least no September together. This year, distance will continue to grow. Our college experiences will become occasional wall posts, status messages, LJ entries, phone calls, and maybe anecdotes to tell at get togethers, but they will always have a foreign tang. With no more mutual experiences, the glue that bonds us dries and cracks, and we have only the past to bring us together. Our pasts may be shared, but we look toward the future and see divergent paths.
I admit to not really trying with LJ. I kinda just cowardly gave on trying to friend more people because by that time, I really was ready to move on from high school. I write about friendships fading and connections snapping, which regardless of the connotations of those words, I find to be liberating. I will go longer be bound by the expectations of my friends, classmates, and acquaintances. I am sad that the people I have shared the last 6 years with will not be with me, but I have accepted that as all right.
Monday, June 11, 2007
High School Revisited
Kate was wearing her red prom dress. "C'mon, let's go!" she yelled across the room, "It's for Acadec!"
Acadec? What the hell? Isn't it over? Isn't it summer? More importantly, aren't we graduated seniors? These thoughts raced through my head as she tugged on my hand, pulling me toward the door. "Well Crick wanted to give us a heads up on next year. Some practical experience -- ya know? We're going jet-skiing!"
Suddenly it all made sense to me. I couldn't really follow the logic, but I trusted the logic to flow smoothly. I believed I understood, and that was all that mattered. Kate opened the door to a motley group of AB students on deck, all of whom I recognized but none of whom I knew. Then a whiplash crack, and ahoy! We were off to sea.
The vessel we boarded was not especially seaworthy for the frigid North Sea we were jet skiing in. No matter, we had a trusty chaperon in tow who would surely look out for our safety. A few hours into the trip however, we realized that we had overestimate dthe chaperon. The North Sea was true to it's reputation in serving up a mighty hurricane comparable to Hollywood spectacles of The Perfect Storm. Through the torrential rain and gray skies, our chaperon was nowhere to be found. I took this task upon myself and ventured deep into the creaking ship. As I stumbled through the hallways, a door opened to a looming hall. A lavish feast sat on the long table that filled the hall. At the head of the table, in perfect imitation of Pan's Labyrinth's Pale Man, sat Andrew Crick, frozen and ramrod straight.
Before I could yell any accusatory expletives, the ship lurched and like old movie screens, everything faded to black. Next thing know, I was waking up from a fluffy white bed complete with a fluffy white canopy. My brother had somehow found his way into my bed in the last night/nights. But ah! Who's face is that leering at me? Scrabbling for my glasses, I finally regained my vision
*****
I never finished recounting this dream, and now it's but a hazy memory. I remember the scenes that startled my dreaming doppelganger: waking up to see Green's middle-aged Asian wife, being dumped at a sketchy strip mall, and the line I wanted to end this dream and this entry with: I woke up, and I realized how much I missed school.
Acadec? What the hell? Isn't it over? Isn't it summer? More importantly, aren't we graduated seniors? These thoughts raced through my head as she tugged on my hand, pulling me toward the door. "Well Crick wanted to give us a heads up on next year. Some practical experience -- ya know? We're going jet-skiing!"
Suddenly it all made sense to me. I couldn't really follow the logic, but I trusted the logic to flow smoothly. I believed I understood, and that was all that mattered. Kate opened the door to a motley group of AB students on deck, all of whom I recognized but none of whom I knew. Then a whiplash crack, and ahoy! We were off to sea.
The vessel we boarded was not especially seaworthy for the frigid North Sea we were jet skiing in. No matter, we had a trusty chaperon in tow who would surely look out for our safety. A few hours into the trip however, we realized that we had overestimate dthe chaperon. The North Sea was true to it's reputation in serving up a mighty hurricane comparable to Hollywood spectacles of The Perfect Storm. Through the torrential rain and gray skies, our chaperon was nowhere to be found. I took this task upon myself and ventured deep into the creaking ship. As I stumbled through the hallways, a door opened to a looming hall. A lavish feast sat on the long table that filled the hall. At the head of the table, in perfect imitation of Pan's Labyrinth's Pale Man, sat Andrew Crick, frozen and ramrod straight.
Before I could yell any accusatory expletives, the ship lurched and like old movie screens, everything faded to black. Next thing know, I was waking up from a fluffy white bed complete with a fluffy white canopy. My brother had somehow found his way into my bed in the last night/nights. But ah! Who's face is that leering at me? Scrabbling for my glasses, I finally regained my vision
*****
I never finished recounting this dream, and now it's but a hazy memory. I remember the scenes that startled my dreaming doppelganger: waking up to see Green's middle-aged Asian wife, being dumped at a sketchy strip mall, and the line I wanted to end this dream and this entry with: I woke up, and I realized how much I missed school.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
An Eulogy
If you haven't noticed, I really have not been diligent about posting recently. Partly I'm just burned out with all the work of the last few months. Also...eh, I'm thinking about retiring this blog. It will be resurrected sometime, when I feel like I need a blog and not a LiveJournal. So yes, that's where I am going. The movie blog will stay, and I will definitely update when I find the time to watch and write again. Otherwise, behold the power of peer pressure. LJ will probably be mostly friends-only. Contact me to add.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Epiphanies via High School English Class.
Last night, I finished my final book for a high school English class. It was one of those rare moments this year that I was entranced by a book, utterly absorbed and oblivious to the ticking clock. This used to happen a lot—I was a voracious young reader—but these burned out high school have been too kind to the leisurely reader in me. Not that my elementary school reading habits were leisurely; they were ferocious, and I wolfed down books and novels by the week.
Recently, I have had to force myself through my reading. It’s not a pleasant experience, and these books that are forced down my throat never stay in my brain. Still, English V H/AP has been a good year. Rather than study for a useless test (Euro), I’d like to reflect on my high school reading list.
Favorite Five: Will Blow Cash to Own
1. The Remains of the Day – Beautiful prose. Loved Stevens perhaps a tad too much.
2. The Bluest Eye – A devastatingly tragic novel. It took a few years for me to finally appreciate it.
3. The Canterbury Tales – Satire with the perfect dose of sexual innuendo. What’s not to love?
4. "Roman Fever" – Ouch. Burn. Women are cruel.
5. 1984 – I <3 dystopia...when it’s fictional. Such precision in social commentary.
Next Five: Will Blow Gift Card to Own
1. The Joy Luck Club – Another reread. Realized the Asian-American experience was all too homogeneous.
2. The Catcher in the Rye – All you people who hate it are just phonies.
3. The Sun Also Rises – “A love story between a nymphomaniac and a man without a penis.” Must read!
4. Macbeth – Shakespeare. Nuff said.
5. Holes – My vote for the most “perfectly plotted” novel.
Bottom Ten: Won’t Touch Even for Free (From bad to worst)
1. Beowulf – Stiff characters and jumpy plot. Get old enough and nobody dares disrespect you.
2. Lord of the Flies – Total lack of subtly. A bitter man ranting unfoundedly about humankind.
3. The Alchemist – Mix every single New Age mantra into fantasy novel and this is want you get. It just tried too hard.
4. Pride and Prejudice – The first book I never finished for class. (I did read it before...) Verbose and gossipy—a terrible combination.
5. Frankenstein – The Wishbone episode was so much better.
6. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde – This Wishbone episode was better too.
7. A Separate Peace – Even the HoYay didn’t redeem it.
8/9.The Education of Little Tree & Ragged Dick – Sophomore year was just the nadir of literary merit.
10. Siddhartha – Worthless piece of pseudo-Asian fluff.
Recently, I have had to force myself through my reading. It’s not a pleasant experience, and these books that are forced down my throat never stay in my brain. Still, English V H/AP has been a good year. Rather than study for a useless test (Euro), I’d like to reflect on my high school reading list.
Favorite Five: Will Blow Cash to Own
1. The Remains of the Day – Beautiful prose. Loved Stevens perhaps a tad too much.
2. The Bluest Eye – A devastatingly tragic novel. It took a few years for me to finally appreciate it.
3. The Canterbury Tales – Satire with the perfect dose of sexual innuendo. What’s not to love?
4. "Roman Fever" – Ouch. Burn. Women are cruel.
5. 1984 – I <3 dystopia...when it’s fictional. Such precision in social commentary.
Next Five: Will Blow Gift Card to Own
1. The Joy Luck Club – Another reread. Realized the Asian-American experience was all too homogeneous.
2. The Catcher in the Rye – All you people who hate it are just phonies.
3. The Sun Also Rises – “A love story between a nymphomaniac and a man without a penis.” Must read!
4. Macbeth – Shakespeare. Nuff said.
5. Holes – My vote for the most “perfectly plotted” novel.
Bottom Ten: Won’t Touch Even for Free (From bad to worst)
1. Beowulf – Stiff characters and jumpy plot. Get old enough and nobody dares disrespect you.
2. Lord of the Flies – Total lack of subtly. A bitter man ranting unfoundedly about humankind.
3. The Alchemist – Mix every single New Age mantra into fantasy novel and this is want you get. It just tried too hard.
4. Pride and Prejudice – The first book I never finished for class. (I did read it before...) Verbose and gossipy—a terrible combination.
5. Frankenstein – The Wishbone episode was so much better.
6. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde – This Wishbone episode was better too.
7. A Separate Peace – Even the HoYay didn’t redeem it.
8/9.The Education of Little Tree & Ragged Dick – Sophomore year was just the nadir of literary merit.
10. Siddhartha – Worthless piece of pseudo-Asian fluff.
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