I will say that I have always enjoyed reading; I remember making day to day visits to the library, picking up what was usually a fantasy book from that storehouse of ideas and thoughts and imagination. After that I would become enveloped within the story, the characters, their struggles, their fears, and how they eventually overcame the challenges they faced. I would vividly attempt to imagine exactly what it was like for those characters-I would become immersed in learning about the details.

What do you mean, "this picture doesn't have any symbolic meaning"

Yes it does. Trust me.

You see, when I read, I don't typically try-or necessarily like-to pick apart every little detail for a "deeper meaning." Yes, I tend to realize symbolism that the author placed within the text to attain a deeper meaning.  And yes, I am aware that analyzing a book or story is an important skill.

But I look for something else when reading a story. That really defines whether or not I truly like what I read.

I read to learn about the story; the lore. Not to analyze a book to death.

And I always have. Those trips to the library were just to find out what happened next in the series. Whether it was about modern demigods facing the harrowing monsters of Ancient Greek mythology, or about clay dragons and their connection to the earth, I read for the thrill of the ride.

You can call me shallow reader for feeling that way, but I will continue to be dragged into writing for the creativeness of the author and the fantastical worlds that are produced by their imagination.

Trust me all of these pictures have a deeper meaning.

I'm trying to be funny please laugh.

Blogging certainly wasn't an arduous task for me. It may have been tedious as points but I never really had any difficulty writing down my opinions on the book. I can't exactly say I am good at it, though. But on the upside, blogging is incentive to actually read. I hate to admit it but I've been finding it harder and harder to pick up books-but once I get started on one I can hardly stop reading, but the task of actually finding a book to read has just become a bit unappealing, and I am actually unsure as to why.

Maybe my passionate reading as a child eventually exhausted my drive to read. Or maybe the introduction of things such as video games distracted me from getting a book and looking at it.

I don't know.

To be honest though, writing this blog was somewhat uncomfortable as well. I typically prefer to keep my opinions to myself, unless it is something that I am passionate about. But, then again, I guess that helps me overcome something I struggle with a bit.

Yes.

This year has been quite a challenge, not exactly in the amount of schoolwork, per se, but in the social atmosphere.

I'm not even necessarily sure I can call it a challenge, there are so many more people that face troubles greater than the ones that I may find difficult. There are so many people my age that are doing great things. Who are taking difficult courses, creating beautiful things, have many friends, and are going through tough times. I sort of feel like I've just been left in the dust, I guess. I feel like a burden that says stupid things all of the time.

And I worry about that.

I don't know, people have just changed, and I probably have along with them. For better or for worse. But I'm not sure if I grew as a person at all this year.





Got a bit too pessimistic oops.

We are all illusions.

We know things that we don't think we know.

We are free to do anything.

Many ideas such as those are present in the book that I have recently decided to pick up, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah, by Richard Bach. I heard that it was a very uplifting and thought-provoking story, and it piqued my interest. So far, I certainly am not disappointed. The ideas that the book presents about life and our perception of reality is extremely interesting, and Bach is able to present those ideas in a way that is perceptive and artistic. 

Illusions is about - well - the adventures of a reluctant messiah. An ordinary guy that has a fated encounter with a man, named Donald Shimoda, who has been deemed a messiah. Richard, him being the narrator, had apparently met Don in a past life and has the potential to become a "master" of sorts.

It's actually fairly confusing, in my opinion. The reading may be fairly easy to grasp, but the ideas take some time to comprehend and explain. But man, did Bach do a good job at explaining it. 

Although this book may contain some slightly religious concepts that may or may not be offensive to certain individuals, from what I have read, this is an absolutely wonderful book, and one that is definitely worth reading.

For this blog post,  I will go over a column that I read, called "Something to Remember for Thanksgiving," written by Mary Schmich. This particular column, out of a few others that I read, had the most lasting impact on me. The lesson it taught, I felt, was one that was extremely important to remember, one that is extremely important to be taught.

The writer, in creating this column, wanted to convey the feeling of giving, even when you think you don't have anything, and for being grateful for the little things that you have been given, no matter how small and insignificant it may seem. towards the end of her column, after her story had been told and at the part that is supposed to leave the most lasting impact upon the reader, Schmich said, "the vision of my father giving me money that was hard to spare has come back to me." In the words she chose to make up that sentence, Schmich  helped convey her main theme. The money was hard to spare, yet her father was giving it to her so she could get the Nutty Buddy that she wanted.

The author wants the image of her father to stick with the reader. She said that his face was "as sad as [she] ever saw" it. She emphasized the point in which he "fish[ed] in his pants pocket" to find change, and his words of wisdom to her about poverty. Afterwards, she states that those words still stuck with her, further emphasizing her father, and what he said to her.

This column is intended to make the reader think about what begin poor truly means. It is to make the reader ponder exactly what they have given, and what they have received. The column's purpose was to establish a connection between the reader and Thankgiving, to help them appreciate everything that life has to offer to them, and what they have to offer to life in thanks. And that perhaps we may not feel as if we've given or received enough. This can be seen at the end of the fifth paragraph, when Schmich stated that at the time she felt like she "deserved a Nutty Buddy. [She] would demand a Nutty Buddy."

All throughout the piece, effective syntax and diction is used. Whether describing the authors confusion at the money that her father gave her, or highlighting the beginning of her story. But, the one that I felt was the most effective was her choose to put the theme at the end of the column, separated from everything else. That line, I feel, was one the most powerful lines in the piece, stating that "there's always enough to give some away, and no matter how little you think you've gotten, you may understand later that it was huge." Not only did Schmich utilize effective diction to leave the reader thinking about the point she was trying to make, she also managed to put it in the place in which the readers attention would be drawn towards it.

In today's society especially, where the world is filled with people that certainly do not have enough,  this article is especially important. Even though the world definitely filled with people that attempt to give to those that need it - even when they themselves do not have much - but society still needs to be reminded of it. There are millions of homeless, some that are willing to help those who need it, some who would rather attempt to take what they think they need. There are also millions that can give, but at points they don't. I believe that his article is attempting to remind us about the power of giving to those when they are in need, and receiving when it is us ourselves that need it.

I am almost finished with the book Liesl & Po (with only about 10-20 pages left), a charming little book about a place where the sun has stopped shining, the people are starving, and a little girl named Liesl has been trapped in an attic against her will after both her mother's and father's death. Her stepmother took reign of her family's fortune and abused it. And guess what? She's what can be considered an evil stepmother.

It's always the stepparent(s).

Or the butler.

The maid works too.

Aside from the somewhat cliché story, I found this book to be an enjoyable read. Although it was not necessarily a funny book, and the character's dialect seemed too formal - especially the one's that were poor or in secluded areas - it's interpretation of the afterlife, ghosts, and the interesting descriptions of certain characters and places were captivating at points. Ghosts were not the typical billowy pale-faced apparition, nor were they beings that haunted any unlucky soul that they happened across. Instead, they just sort of were a part of the universe; they practically melded into and out of existence, and when on the living side they were just like shadows.

In the book existed magic, and was apparently practiced through alchemy. With this, various potions, powders, poisons, and more were created, able to give the user wings, or even turn them into a mouse or a cup. The presence of said magic, and the setting of the book actually reminded me of another book series I read a while ago, the Septimus Heap series.

Actually a really good set of books with an interesting story, I would read it if I were you.

Although, the ending, I feel, was a bit rushed and anticlimactic, this was still honestly an interesting read, filled with wonderful ideas and beautiful descriptions.

I am almost finished with the book The True Meaning of Smekday, but I have not had the chance to completely finish it, as I have been preoccupied with other things. Although the story has reached a standstill of sorts at the point that I'm as, but major events certainly have unfolded. With the introduction of new characters and problems that J.Lo and Gratuity have to face, it has certainly become a story that has kept me on the edge of my seat. Right now, I am extremely anxious to discover how, or if, Earth is returned to it's previous inhabitants, and exactly what role the two protagonists may have in the feat. Hopefully the action will pick up, and I will soon be able to learn of the fate of the characters.

This book has certainly been a thrill ride, filled with sarcasm, silly little jokes, nicely drawn comics, and an extremely immersive story.

I have had this book sitting on my bookshelf for quite a while, not knowing what it was about. I have finally decided to pick up this book, and I must say that I am pleasantly surprised. I am now about halfway through the book now, and so far I think this is a very charming book, with an interesting concept, interesting characters, and quite a few funny moments. There were even a couple of comics and pictures included. 

The story centers around, and is "written by" a girl named Gratuity "Tip" Tucci, who is driving to Florida, a "Human-Preserve," as dictated by the Boov. The Boov being a short and squishy eight legged alien race that decided to take over Earth. Renaming our planet SmekLand, they came on Christmas, eventually forcing human beings all around the world into deals they had no control over, in a fairly similar fashion of a few past events in human history. Before revealing themselves however, the Boov abducted some humans in secret, one being Gratuity's mother. Once the Boov officially revealed themselves, they ended up taking her mother, leaving Gratuity devastated and leads to her eventual decision to drive to Florida as opposed to going to the Rocket pods. On her way, she finds a lone ad friendly Boov who refers to himself as J.Lo, calling it his human name. J.Lo then adds improvements to Gratuity's car, enabling it to hover. They then strike a deal, that they will drive to Florida together, Gratuity providing transportation and J.Lo as an escort. The book continues on.

Overall, I think the concept of this book is fascinating, and I can't wait to read the rest of it. I may even go as far as watching the new DreamWorks movie "Home," inspired from this book.

Staring, looking everywhere but nowhere in particular, Mrs. Phelps shuffled across the empty walk, her head down, preoccupied with the unwelcome emotions that plagued her mind. However much she tried, those feeling would not disappear, and she did not have anything to wipe away the sudden onslaught of thoughts. No radio, television, or even the ability to sleep away her troubles. There they sat, festering within her mind, like a hardy stone that refused to be washed away by the ever-flowing rise and fall of the waves upon a rocky cove. The rock would not move, no matter how much the sea pushed. Unable to handle the reoccurring feelings, Mrs. Phelps could do nothing but concentrate on the ground in front, and attempt to lose herself within the confines of her mind.

"Oh, why didn't I take the beetle? Now I'm stuck walking around. Walking! We haven't done that willingly since the Dark Ages! I just had to walk to that fireman's house. It's really a shame that Mildred has to be stuck with a maniac. Oh, I feel so sorry for her! Agh, I should have taken the beetle! I would already be home by now and listening to some lovely music, I could listen to that nice song that I always enjoyed. I could've even been laughing along and enjoying life with my family, for Pete's sake!"

She muttered to herself, in the hope that a voice within the would calm her nerves. But, with he mention of a certain name, a thought, one that surprised the lone woman, came to mind. One of her husband, and of what Mr. Montag had said, his scathing words. Words not meant directly for her, but ones that still had left a blow. Try as she might to push the thoughts back, they continued to come.

What if... if that man is right?
Why did I feel what I felt? I haven't cried in eight years, and a little poem is what broke that streak.
Oh, why did I listen to that fool and his 'poems'?!
What about Pete? His brains - are his brains being 'blown out' right now?
How could I just sit there and let Montag read that?
I have never done anything to deserve this! Why must someone come along and ruin everything!?
...

Within her daze, Mrs. Phelps stepped off of the walk in front of her house. As if drugged, she wandered to the pad that scanned her hand. With the door sliding open in front of her, she walked into the darkness contained within her house. Stopping, she uttered one final question:

"...Are we really wrong?"


Nothing but silence answered.