Quick Update on the Craziness That is My Life

Hey everyone!

I just have a few free minutes right now and don't know when I will again, so here's a little tidbit.

My schedule was busy before today. I made it much more hectic today. I added an riding lesson (horses) once every two weeks. I am now auditing - unofficially - a French conversation class twice a week. I am also meeting with a French professor once a week and possibly a French tutor another day. I'm also helping two guys that were in my French class last term in French in exchange for them teaching me about British culture.

Basically, I've dropped the idea of keeping up with some television shows. I am going to be really busy, especially for the next six weeks; after that I'll have an extra four hours a week! I'm going to try to post pretty regularly. Please don't hold it against me if I don't. I want to still make YouTube videos, but we'll see how that works.

Au revior et j'taime,

-Genni

Lost Potential

It's been a long week for me, and there are three days to go. Sometimes it seems the weeks that start with the most promise fall shortest. It makes sense: the more that is expected, the more that can be missed.

For a week that started on such a high note - classes starting again - it has just gotten lower since, with the exception of an occasional slight peak. In an effort to not depress readers and maybe cheer myself, here are the week's high notes, in no particular order: classes starting, finding out happy primes are real, understanding happy primes, and that's about it.

Tuesday's lunch (minor) fiasco started a definite downward trend for my mood. Since then, I've been getting more introverted, more avoidant, and felt more on the outside that usual. Among other things, I was right about a couple things, about one of which I really wanted to be wrong. For something I knew, it's amazing how disappointing being right can be.

So, I will be headed for bed soon, cuddling with Galifrey, the one protection I have against the nightmares plaguing me of late. Soon I'll post a few videos, especially the Catching Fire review.

I also decided that I am going to VidCon next year.

-Genni

Oi, That Didn't Go Well, Did It?

If somehow it has escaped notice thus far, I am a pretty serious geek, proud nerdfighter, deeply private, introverted, and nearly always choose books or the internet to socializing with people. Which is not to say I don't enjoy being around people; I do, provided the number of people is around five or fewer and those individuals are either intelligent or I am extremely hyper. Some people might hate spending as much time alone as I did over the winter holiday. I thrived and enjoyed it. 

People started returning en mass on Saturday, the rest coming on Sunday. Seeing all the cars and the sudden sharp decrease in parking availability were annoying, but not much more. Classes started yesterday, which thrilled me. I have been around people since they came back to campus. Today, though, I went to lunch and my mental composure fell more than a little bit apart. 

See, I do not like large crowds, I never have. That may seem odd from someone who enjoyed both public speaking and dancing in showcases. When a crowd is large and loud, I try to stay as far away as is reasonable. That was the cafeteria: large crowds of noisy, intense people. For someone as self conscious as I, that is not a good situation. 

Add to that that I caught site of a couple of people I am semi-avoiding based on the self consciousness and making a minor fool of myself near those people for the majority of last semester and  I vamoosed. My general feeling of panic actually did not subside when I had left the cafeteria. I made it back to my dorm room, realized that a mid-level panic attack set off a minor asthma attack, used my inhaler, and finally was able to talk to my roommate. I think it has been established that, if I go to lunch anymore, I'll be getting the eco-unfriendly "To Go" box and spending as little time as possible around all those people. 

Thank you to everyone who reads this; I hope you enjoy it. Special thanks to Russian readers!

Love,

-Genni

"Catching Fire" Review

Remember how I liked The Hunger Games? The sequel is better. It should be. Again, it's well-written, 60% plot-driven, 40% character-driven. A few of the sentences I would have written differently, but it works to carry the story.

I would say the best thing about this book is how it logically builds off the first book. Sequels don't always do that. This took what one knew and went from there. It could almost be a stand-alone book.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, it felt rushed in parts. Maybe not even rushed so much as I wanted more information than was given. It's about the same length as The Hunger Games and I wonder if Ms. Collins' felt pressure to keep this one about the same length.  Most of the time when a week or so is skipped, it doesn't bother me. A couple times, though, why? I felt that lack of information in the ending especially. It wasn't needed to entice someone to read the third book; the hook for that was set quite well.

Other than that, this book lacked the backstory bits of the first book. Plenty from the first book is explained, enough that someone could just read Catching Fire. People who read the first book don't need that. A little bit is okay. Other backstory, though, that was missing.

Overall, of course, I really liked the book. It's well written with relateable characters, but the characters are solid enough that someone can't project themselves. I would like some more strength to them, but they've built from the first book, personalities expanded and that is excellent.

I suppose my greatest question is how Ms. Collins meant this series to be read. Did she just write a captivating story? Is it meant to make people think about our political systems and the shallow way first-worlders look at the world? Is it meant to be a nudge to consider such a rebellion, if not now, then in the future?

Cheers,

-Genni

At Last

There are certain feelings that I do not believe can be matched. Understanding a mathematical formula one has struggled with for any amount of time; holding a newborn infant; watching a goat kid and seeing the raw promise the world holds; opening a book - any book, but especially a hardcover - that no one else had yet opened. Those a some of my favorite moments. The one I just experienced is opening, finally, my copy of Suzanne Collins' Catching Fire. At this moment, before reading a single word, this book is full to bursting with potential. All I know is the feeling of being the first person to open this copy of the book is the purest form of exhilaration I have felt in months.

Much love,

-Genni

"Guts" Review

I have finished my second of the twenty-two books on my New Year's Resolution list, the twenty-two books I own but have not yet read. This second book was short, maybe two hours of solid reading. Guts by Gary Paulsen details some of the experiences Mr. Paulsen had that led to and ultimately shaped Hatchet especially, but also Brian's Winter and The River.

Much of it is about hunting, trial-and-error, the major role hunting played in Mr. Paulsen's life from a young age and other basic challenges of wilderness survival. More than once he was attacked by a moose. He was bitten by rattlesnakes, stalked by mountain lions, threatened by bears, even witnessed a four-year old boy killed by a white-tale buck in a national park.

He was in two plane accidents; neither was ultimately a crash, but both could have killed him and the pilot. He learned to fly a plane. For several years he served as an emergency response person, often the only one. He witnessed many heart attacks, including the one that was morphed into the pilot's death in Hatchet. As of 2001, Mr. Paulsen had run two Iditarods.

Put simply, Mr. Paulsen has survived what many can not even imagine. He has eaten what we take for granted. I say "we" because, if one has internet, one has likely never known true, deep hunger.

When all is said and done, that is what I find most fascinating, is not what he has eaten, but the depth of survival instinct. I know how strong it is. More than once I was on the brink of defying it. Each time one of two things happened: either the subconscious desire to live was strong enough or, before it got to that point, I found something, or someone, to live for when I didn't want to live for myself.

I am currently a vegetarian. I don't eat meat, mostly because I don't much like the taste. It also reminds me of human flesh. I hadn't thought much about from where meat came. I grew up in a town where a good percentage of people hunted. I had seen deer strung up to drain in my garage. I had fished, gutting my catches. I never thought meat magically appeared in shop coolers. Growing up in a first world country, though, most people are separated from the source, not just physically, but mentally.

Last winter, though, I trained to be an EMR or Emergency Medical Responder so I could help run on ambulances. At one point in the training, I looked through some of the textbooks for higher levels of ambulance training. Some of the pictures in those books are incredible, to the point where one can't imagine a situation where whatever injury could even be possible; in practice, I never saw anything bloody. Some of those pictures, though, stuck with me.

I had been playing with the idea of becoming a vegetarian for a year or two. When I saw that to the eye, there is very little physical difference between human flesh and any red meat. As I mentioned, I didn't really like meat. It was pretty easy for me to give up meat. It was funny how quickly I lost the taste for it. At first, I just quite red meat, then poultry and fish. About a month after I had essentially quit all meat, my mom cooked salmon. Salmon had always been my favorite. I chose to try a bit. It was utterly unappealing; I think I actually gagged.

The point of the drawn out I-am-a-vegetarian-and-here's-why is, if it came down to survival or eating meat, I know I would choose meat. Survival is the single greatest instinct in any animal, and at the most simplistic definition, that is what humans are: animals.

If and when the day comes that the society in the U.S. crumbles, many thousands, millions, even, of people will starve. People in cities have almost no resources if food shipments fail. They don't know how to hunt, to fish, to produce plants or butcher animals. But they will fight to survive.

Other than the simple observation that plants are fascinating, the reason I am most looking forward to taking a botany course is to learn about edible plants. If the day comes when our society is forced to revert to hunting and gathering, a knowledge of edible plants would at least buy me time to learn to hunt and reacquaint myself with fishing.

In short, I liked the book, which is no surprise since I loved Hatchet when I was younger and just re-read it two months ago.

For now, though, I am able to be a vegetarian by choice and the most dangerous thing I have encountered recently was an angry girlfriend who thought I wanted her boyfriend because I texted him for ten minutes.

Cheers,

-Genni

The Great White North

I had very simple plans for today. None have worked. I was supposed to go to work. Gerry, my car, is apparently sick. Since I work about 20 miles from where I am, I had no way to get there. Other than that, I wanted to go see Beauty and the Beast in theatres today. With no car and the nearest theatre 9-ish miles away, that isn't happening either.

I did, however, locate and visit the local library. I now have three active library cards. Oh yes. It isn't far, about one mile. I did walk, obviously. I like to walk. Walking in the snow, not so much.

I love snow. I like winter. I am all for multiple feet of snow. What I am not for is the, to me, weird way people here in Ohio handle winter.

I woke up to the second significant snow of the year...about an inch. That hardly qualifies. By all accounts of natives, this has been a really funky winter. Temperatures were in the high 40s last week! Anyhow, point being: there is snow on the ground. Unfortunately, there is also wind. Of all weather conditions, I despise wind. There is nothing pleasant about a swift breeze kicking snow in one's face.

For anyone not familiar with snow, there are different types. There is light, fluffy, pretty snow that is absolutely worthless when it comes to snowballs. There is perfect snowball snow, heavier, less fluffy. There is wet snow that makes life a little miserable. Nothing can be done with it; it is barely more frozen than slush. Then there is snow like what is on the ground here right now: hard, dry, tiny flakes. This is the snow that stings like hail. Combine with wind and no one is happy.

Taking to another topic, I think there are two types of places that get serious winters: ones that are good at handling it and ones that always seem to be surprised. I lived in Oregon for almost eighteen years. I lived in Alaska for six months when I was two, not that I remember it. Ohio, people don't seem to understand snow. I was here last winter and now a little bit this year, people seem to be completely off-guard. I don't get it.

I don't like to drive in the snow, partly because there are too many variables, even on perfect roads. This is compounded by the fact that how most people drive in Ohio freaks me out on good roads. In ice, well, I just try to avoid that.

It doesn't makes sense that somewhere like Ohio is like this. In Arizona or Eugene, Oregon, even Portland, Oregon, it might make sense. Snow isn't super common. Ohio usually gets multiple feet. It should not be unexpected. Oregon is definitely better at winter.

For the record, I know people who refuse to go to Portland and Eugene if there is snow. Those Oregonians may have driving in the rain down pat, but snow...not even close.

I love the library!

J'taime,

-Genni

"The Last of the Mohicans" Review

It is finished! This moment has been twenty three days in the making. In truth, I did not read this  book every day. I very rarely take more than two weeks to read a book; I often take less than four days. This was clearly an exception to my general reading trend.

The Last of the Mohicans was written by James Fenimore Cooper in 1826. I did not particularly enjoy this book. I was not much interested in the story line, possibly because I did not care about the the characters. Not one of the characters did I like. It was, for me, a dry, drawn-out tale of two-dimensional characters.

The writing itself bothered me. A line from Sarah Dessen's book Along for the Ride comes to mind: My dad never said a sentence when he could go on for a paragraph (p. 69). I could imply the same about Mr. Cooper. I am certain that a good deal of my displeasure with the writing in this book is greatly tied to the - nearly - two centuries between it's writing and now.

I had some degree of appreciation for two aspects of the book: occasional French and political practice. I am striving to learn the French language, so it was neat to challenge myself to ascertain the meaning of said passages. See, I am not opposed to longer sentences in practice. I prefer sentences of varying lengths.

As for political practice, the major antagonist was, by all accounts, a brilliant politician. He manipulated people quite easily, in so crafty a manner as to convince them it was their own thought. He knew the balance of flattery, condemnation, reminders, and vengeance that would result in the outcome he desired.

I am not particularly interested in practical politics. I think the current status of the U. S. of A. government has been warped to a point where it is beyond redemption. For instance: WikiLeaks. There was a big uproar about this a few years ago. I wasn't interested at the time. I have realized something that baffles me about it.

The situation - as I understand it - was that confidential government files were "leaked" online. On the one hand, yes, potential disaster from a Homeland Security. More relevantly, why were there any such files? The United States of America is supposed - here meaning "called or said to be, impersonating - a transparent government, i.e. the public is to be in full knowledge of government actions.

Political theory and how people communicate, manipulate, orchestrate and maneuver events to suit their fancy, that I find fascinating. I have strayed from my original tack.

My last main complaint about this book is the narrator. The narrator is not present for most of the book. When he or she is, I am very quickly exasperated. He or she is irritating, condescending and extremely wordy. Sometimes he or she "speaks" in the prose, other times, in footnotes. Said footnotes more often constitute a paragraph.

If one is wondering, no, I am not strictly anti-narrator. Lemony Snickit I adored.

Overall, my summation of this book can be taken from the "Editor's Note" at the novel's close, "By even the most charitable standards, Cooper was no polished craftsman: his descriptions are often verbose, his characters oversimplified, their dialogue silted, and their actions improbable (p. 413)."

The only contradiction I offer is on the final note. My brothers and I all enjoy Clive Cussler, Jack DuBurl, and James Rollins novels; Dirk Pitt, Kurt Austin, Juan Cabrillo, Phillip Mercer, Painter Crow, and the other various characters of other various similar novels are all about improbable actions. Perhaps it was different in 1984 when the edition I own was printed.

All in all, I am considering getting rid of this book. However, as I am generally loathe to do so, I will likely keep it, read it again, then decide. People have been reading Cooper's work for nearly 200 years. Maybe I will find the world of his creation more appealing when I revisit it.

Much love,

-Genni

Bend-it-Break-it-Let's-See-Where-This-Takes-Us

I have been thinking for the last few days about a former friend. It happens every time I listen to certain bands, like hellogoodbye or The Academy Is... It's been nearly a year since we last spoke and longer than that since we've been close.

She was my best friend for so long. She knew just about everything. When I needed to talk to someone, it was to her that I would turn. She helped me conquer demons before others even knew they existed. For some reason, we started to fall apart. Maybe we had outlived our time. Even after I moved, we held it together for a while. We weren't as close, but we still talked every couple days.

We were always so different. I, the introverted, academic rule-follower; she the bend-it-break-it-see-where-this-takes-us. It didn't seem like such a big deal through primary school. Into seventh year, it got a smidge weird. She was a track runner, but in the off-season she was all for trying other things. Being her, she didn't have any trouble when she wanted a boyfriend. So the progression began,  leading to drinking, drugs, short-lived flings with aspiring rock stars - though they did have tour dates booked as openers - and pregnancy scares. I didn't join her; it didn't much appeal to me.

We were still pretty close. I was always there for her, until I realized two things: she kept having the same problems, like clockwork, every couple months. Those were the times she would call me at midnight, crying, and I would wake up or lay aside my school work. About six months after that epiphany, I needed to talk. She didn't have time. She didn't have time when I needed her and didn't know where else to turn, not then, not after. Our phone calls and conversations became monologues about her life. That in itself didn't bother me so much as that I was not important, at all, seemingly.

I broke it off, stopped calling, stopped checking in online. As of now, she doesn't have any way to get in touch with me. When I moved, I didn't give her my new mobile number. I gave up on her.

In certain light, I feel guilty about it. Usually, I know I made the right move, for me. I needed to move forward. I miss her. I miss our friendship. I miss knowing she had someone reliable and responsible to look out for her, someone who wouldn't be passed out at a party when she needed them. C'est la vie. I cannot change what has happened.

Lindsey, if you ever come across this: I miss you. I love you. Please be careful.

With love,

Genni a.k.a. Glitterface

P.S.
In another direction, this video is incredible. It is also analogous to one of the many, many reasons I do not want a smartphone.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XuX7qTKzouo