The Perfect Man

Have you ever fallen in love - furiously, deeply, and passionately...with a book character? If you say Edward Cullen, stop reading IMMEDIATELY and go pick up Catch 22, Don Quixote, The World According to Garp, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, or even a Sherlock Holmes story if you need something a little shorter and more two-dimensional to start off with. I'm not going to lie: in real life you might dislike and disrespect Yossarian or T.S. Garp. Some of the protagonists here are arrogant and distant, many are arguably insane, and others cheat on the women they claim to love.
And yet...
There's something noble, passionate and beautifully truthful about each of them. They all have an intoxicating zest for life and find unique ways of living it to the fullest. But they'll be something different for you than they were for me, and that's the beauty of it. Unlike movie men, often gorgeous but underdeveloped and rigid in their roles, we can see literary characters with our own eyes. Between the printed lines, our minds morph them into something new. Ultimately, we infuse ourselves into them and they become a sound reality in fictitious skin: the perfect man.

An Open Letter to Stephenie Meyer

Ms. Meyer,
I'm not entirely sure how to begin this letter, because there are so many things that I want to say to you. I suppose I should begin by telling you that I read your first book, Twilight. Not really because I wanted to, you understand, but mainly because I was so curious to see what all of the fuss was about. I don't know if you've noticed, since you're probably to busy enjoying making more money than I will ever see, but there's a lot of fuss about these books. And I was curious. Now, the problem for me, Stephenie, (I'm sorry, do you mind if I call you Stephenie? Typing out Ms. Meyer every time I want to address you directly is going to take too long.) is that I still don't understand the fuss. I mean, the book wasn't as bad as I was expecting it to be, but it also certainly isn't The Great American Novel, either. It's pretty much the perfect example of a book that someone would bring to read at the beach: a petty distraction and the kind of book that nobody would be devastated if they lost it. To be entirely honest, all of the characters are completely one-dimensional, especially Bella and Edward. With the other characters, it's a little harder to notice because they aren't in as much of the book. But I found Bella to be completely lacking in a personality. She doesn't do anything but fall in love, which is something that really doesn't require a lot of effort. And don't get me started on Edward. Perhaps you'll argue that I'm not in the right demographic to be a fan of Twilight, but I'm fairly certain that that isn't true. While the book is considered to be "young adult," which generally translates to "teenager," and I am 20 and so no longer fall under that title, I know many people (alright, women) who also do not fit the demographic and who have loved the book. So, I don't think that's the reason. But there has to be some reason for why these otherwise extremely intelligent young women would collectively obsess over what is a mediocre book at best. I can't understand what it is, though. I asked a close friend of mine who has read all four books why she read them. This was her reply: "It's like crack cookies*. They're of no substance or real appeal and you're horrified for eating them but you can't stop 'cause you're hooked." So, I suppose you've created some sort of literary crack. Are you proud of yourself?

There are a lot of problems that I see in your book. I'm not talking about the ridiculous amount of adjectives that you insist on using, either. Seriously, I don't think I have ever read that much purple prose in one book before. (Or, as you would probably prefer "amethyst text.") And, considering the narrator is 17, the adjectives seem even more over the top. I have a very hard time believing that any 17-year-old talks like that. (And I would know, Stephenie, seeing as how I was one only 3 years ago.) But that wasn't what I was going to criticize you for, I'm sorry. There are two major problems that I want to talk to you about, one of which will end up in its own post. The first is that the relationship between Edward and Bella is highly disturbing, and that I think you're setting a very poor example for young girls with that relationship. The second is that vampires don't sparkle. (That will be in a separate post because I don't think I have enough room to tackle both of these at once.)

In all seriousness, however, the relationship between Edward and Bella seems unhealthy at best. After Bella discovers that Edward is a vampire (Did she seriously have to google vampires? How is it possible that she didn't know what vampires were? Really?), she decides to not act on the knowledge, "Because when I thought of him, of his voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now."(139). Really? Really? Do you honestly believe that the first reaction a girl would have on finding out that the boy she has a crush on is a vampire would be to shrug it off? I could understand her choosing to ignore Edward being a vampire if she had thought for more than a second about what that would actually mean. But she didn't. Because she had already decided that she would dedicate herself to him. Later on in the book, it's revealed that Edward watches Bella sleep. Honestly, Stephenie, if I woke up and saw any vampire, even Edward, watching me sleep, I would give his sparkling ass a restraining order. Do you have any idea how creepy that sounds? That is seriously screwed up. And another thing, Stephenie: Edward and Bella have only been together for a few months when Bella asks Edward to turn her into a vampire so that 'they can live together forever.' Do you have any idea of the message you're sending to young, impressionable pre-teen girls? You're essentially telling them that "It's ok to have low self-esteem because it will help you find an Edward Cullen of your very own. And once you find a man, you should devote every aspect of your life to him. If he's stalking you or watching you sleep, it's only because he loves you so very much. And don't forget that you are going to want to spend the rest of your life with him, even if you've only known each other for a few months, because the first man you meet is obviously your soul mate." Seriously, this is a horrible message to send out. While most of your readers know that this is a horrible message, I'm very worried about the ones who are too young to know that. And you should be too.
Sincerely,
Kat

*Crack cookies is a term that refers to the sugar cookies with bright colored frosting that are sold at supermarkets and have no real taste. The name comes from a joke that the cookies are made up of sugar, flour, water, and crack. The cookies taste horrible and yet people cannot seem to stop eating them.

A Summer Reading List

Sorry I haven’t posted in so long. Believe it or not, this has been in the works for awhile. I’ve spent a good part of the last few days organizing all of my books (about two ceiling-high bookshelves full, plus some) and deciding which combination of old favorites and new prospects were worthy of a place in my bedroom bookshelf. After all that, I feel qualified to make a couple of suggestions. If anyone interested comments, I promise I’ll post more. I know this is coming late in the season, but if you’re not ridiculously bogged down with finishing (or just starting) an assigned reading list, check some of these out!

1. I’m sorry, but our blog is named for it, so it’s the only place to begin – Catch 22 by Joseph Heller. It’s jumbled and wacky from the beginning and the harsh ridiculousness of the surrealism Heller plunges you into, not to mention the 50+ characters he introduces can make the book difficult to digest. But once your mind clicks into Heller's world- the bureaucratic nightmare he creates, the truth of the entire book becomes laughably obvious. It’s the best anti-war and anti government satire I’ve ever read.

2. A Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde is next. The picture in question is a clever, though admittedly obvious conceit for appearances vs. reality. Sir Henry really makes the book when he spouts off hedonistic philosophies that he has no intention of ever living by. Just about every character is madly in love with Dorian, which can get a little old, but still the book flows surprisingly well for Victorian literature.

Okay, time for a little non-fiction. I’m trying to keep it short, so just one more.

3. No God but God: The Origins, Evolutions, and Future of Islam by Reza Aslan – this book reads like fiction, which to me is one of its best qualities. As the title implies, it discusses the history of Islam, but it tells the story like a fairly tale which made the book impossible for me to put down. Aslan is surprisingly unbiased and the book is very approachable, even for a non-Muslim. I especially recommend it if you find anything about current middle-eastern policy and politics involving Islamic countries confusing.

A Nioclesian Nightmare

Apparently Kat and I were on quite a sci-fi/ fantasy kick when we were younger. What we have here are three short excerpts from what we thought would become an epic novel. We had originally planned this as the story of a group of friends who lived in a world that was very loosely based on The Lord of the Rings. There were four “races”: the Nicolese, an elf-like race who were artistic and had very pretty hair, the Buffante, a vampire-esque race who were endowed with psychic powers in all of their gothic glory, the Chippini, a race of pixie people who were the pranksters of the world (think thin Hobbits on crack), and the Rutos, the dwarves of the realm who were grossly undeveloped.

Here is an actual chart of the four races that Kat and I made. (Yes, we made a chart.)

Elf-like Race Nioclese

Beautiful

Artistic

Long Lives

Aristocratic

Tigger/Pixie Race, Chipini

Fun loving

Bouncy

Jump very high and long

Pranksters

Giggly

Move lightning fast

Glow in the dark

Eyes of weird colors

Vampire-like Race Bufante

Smart

Morbid

Each has their own “dark gift”

Same level as elves

See in the dark really well

Suck energy/feelings

Dwarf Rutos

Strong

Loyal

Sorta Dumb

Sorta Ugly

Love Food

With that explanation out of the way, on to the mocking (Kat’s comments are in italics, mine are in bold).

“You’ll never catch me, Edric!” Andre called out from a tree.
“Of course I will, I just need to follow your voice” Edric told his friend. That sounds oddly like echolocation…were the Nioclese part bat?
“Curses, foiled again!” Andre laughed, quoting a human comic book he had glimpsed
once. Curses, foiled again? What the hell was wrong with me? . I don’t think comic books are even that lame. I don’t know…there’s nothing quite like stealing ancient clichés from cartoon villains to make sure a story starts out right.
“Maybe next time you’ll learn to keep your mouth shut.”
“You know perfectly well I can’t keep my mouth shut.” Andre joked
“And that’s why you always lose.” Edric countered, gently pushing his friend with a
smile.
“Heeeeey, shut up!”
“I believe it’s you who need to shut up.” Actually, you should both shut up. The dialogue here is awful. Who talks like this? The boys playfully tussled on a broad tree branch before tumbling out of the tree and landing with a soft thump on a large clump of moss covering part of the forest floor.
“Will you guys ever stop?” Calista mocked, crawling out from her hiding place beneath a decaying old tree stump. “You do realize this means I win.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that” Edric laughed as he leapt at her.
“Children, it’s time to go!” Andre’s mother called. The breathless trio raced up to the car where the matriarch of the house of Mosne waited. “Honestly, this forest is one of the cleanest places I know yet you always seem to get dirty.” Yup, there’s no dirt in these forests apparently. No, there’s dirt; it’s just a very clean dirt. She scolded, wiping a smudge off of Edric’s face, most likely made by Calista’s foot, but in a tussle, you never know. You never do.
Calista, Andre and Edric continued to pick at each other for the full car ride, until they
reached the Nioclesian meeting house, a multi-purpose hall built for the use of their
neighborhood in Coran Arbor. Is that close to Ann Arbor? The Nioclese met at least one a month, but individual families met much more often to chat and enjoy themselves while watching their children play.
Today was the day for a formal meeting, however, and Mrs. Mosne met several other kithen groups, among them Among them…what? What was among them? I’m dying to know how we planned to finish this sentence. I mean seriously, who just starts a sentence and then
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The three grabbed their bags and pulled them out of the car, staring up at the tall, brick
mansion manor that was to be their home for the next 10 months. “Just look at this campus, you guys!” Edric exclaimed, gently caressing a purple flower petal with his finger tip. They looked away from the building and saw the most beautiful mélange of plant life any of them could have ever imagined Ok, we probably used Microsoft Word’s thesaurus for that one. Were we thinking menagerie, but for plants? Anyway, this word is incredibly awkward. Gigantic tropical flowers grew next to evergreen trees, bleeding hearts grew happily intertwined with vines of ivy and ripening apples gestured to the plum trees when the wind blew. How the hell could that happen? Where exactly was this place, and what kind of climate was it? Or was it “magical climate control”? “Magical climate control”: the answer to global climate change! The three friends stood silently, awestruck by the breathtaking surroundings, when Andre, with the keenest ears heard a dulcet voice call to them, “I see you have found the garden.”
He whipped around and his curious blue eyes met a soft gray pair. “You three must be
new students.” Edric and Calista now heard and turned to see who was there. A tall Nioclese with light auburn hair and a whimsical stance smiled at them. “My name is Keni Junip, Mr. Junip will do. No it won’t. Did we seriously make a pun on juniper? And what kind of name is Keni? I believe I will have the pleasure of being your Nature Apperception teacher. He doesn’t know? Either he teaches the class or he doesn’t, especially if he knows they are students. Shouldn’t he know what he teaches? Apperception? Maybe we meant Perception? Or Appreciation? Beginning tomorrow I will teach you of each of these plants and many more beyond, both their *good qualities* and their ills, that you may gain a better appreciation for the beauty of the power and balance of the natural world,” he told them, pointing down a path which led in deeper, onto the grounds. “But I see you already have great respect for the earth and it’s wonders. I must leave you now, I look forward to our meeting again tomorrow. Feel free to further explore this extraordinary portion of our campus, but do not linger for too long, there is much else to see,” and with that he left them by another path. “He left them by another path” oh, how poetic. Isn’t it, just? Couldn’t we have said, “he walked away”? God, no. Right, of course not… that’s far too easy, and plebian.
****************************************
Calista gave Andre her “look” and walked into her room, carrying her duffel bag. Why? Was she mad at him? We have no clue. Hey, now, she might not have been mad at him…we don’t know what “her ‘look’”is. For all we know, she might be trying to seduce him. She saw a girl, with long black hair and pale skin, and wearing all black sitting on her bed. “Hello.” the girl said.
“I’m Lunette. What’s your name?”
“Calista.”
“I’m a Bufante (Buffer{i}?)What the fuck does that mean? What are you?” Lunette asked. What are you? How rude is that?! Kind of an odd question when meeting someone…
“I’m a Nioclese.”
“Are you sure?” No, she isn’t…she was only raised as one. But you’re a complete stranger, so you must know.
“Uh.. yeah. Why do ask?”
“What about your father, I don’t think he’s a Nioclese.” Blunt much?
“Well, I don’t actually know him.” Why not just go on Maury? He’ll help you find your father…
“I thought so!”
“What are you, some kind of mind reader?” This cliché makes baby puppies cry. As opposed to those adult puppies? Very, very young puppies…their eyes aren’t open, but they’re crying.
“Not a mind reader, no. That is impossible, as, people can think a hundred things at the
same time. I can read the subconscious though.” Yes, that makes perfect sense! The “mind” is too difficult to read, but the subconscious, where people have thoughts that even they don’t know; well that’s an open book. Freud must be so jealous of this girl’s reading abilities.
“Oh, um... okay.” I like how many “ums” she’s had. Are you saying you wouldn’t have any if your new roommate claimed to know your father?
“The fact is, that your father is a Bufante. And not just any Bufante.”
“What?”
“Your father is Bon Arment Jovien. He is the Bon, the king of the Ancient Ones. And
technically you are his eldest child and heir.” It gets blunter, and far less plausible…I’m so proud. Fun fact: we got the name for the “king of the Ancient Ones” from John Bon Jovi…surprised?
“Right. Are you feeling ok?”
“I’m feeling just fine, but if you don’t wish to accept the truth now, wait until you meet
other Bufante. Is the plural of Bufante, Bufante? One Bufante, one hundred Bufante. They’re like moose. No they aren’t…the plural of moose is meese. Like mouse and mice, duh. They’ll see it too, even if they haven’t discovered their gift. This isn’t from
reading subconscious. We can all sense each other and our leader.” Just don’t drink the Kool-Aid...
“Whatever.” Calista walked out, to see the rest of the campus. This concludes part one of “the mocking things we wrote” on Snowden’s Secrets. Don’t worry; we’ll come up with a better name for part two…eventually.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Daydreamer in the Hole: A semi-autobiographical psuedo-fairytale

This is what happens when I get bored at work. I realize I talk a lot about work... I promise my next post will have nothing to do with fast-food.

Once upon a time, there lived a girl. She wasn't a particularly beautiful or rich girl, but she was a very nice girl. This girl was so nice, in fact, that with only a smile and a sincere "have a nice day," she could dramatically improve the life of a perfect stranger. Now as this girl was not from a rich family, she had to work. And work she did. The girl worked at a restaurant, that, while popular and cheap, sold mostly disgusting meat sandwiches (with poor quality, burnt beef) and potatoes chopped up into wedges. Despite the fact that the quality of the food was so poor, the restaurant was extremely popular. One of the restaurant's innovations was that customers did not even have to go inside to get their food: they would order and pay at one window and then receive their food at the next. This was called the "ride-through" and although one unfortunate worker had to clean up after the horses, it was an incredibly lucrative invention. The girl worked at the second window. Everyday, the girl would smile, hand the customer their order, and say "have a wonderful day." The customer would ignore her, the horse would whinny, and they'd ride off to someplace more exciting. This process would repeat for eight hours, until the girl's shift was over. The girl of course, had no idea where the customers went after they left her window; to her they seemed like the same twenty or so people, going by her window on a continuing loop. She liked to imagine that they went somewhere exciting. She was a very nice girl, but she suffered from an ailment that derived from having read far too many fairy tales in her childhood: the girl was a compulsive daydreamer. Many times at work she would become bored with the monotony and dream that she were somewhere, anywhere else. And even though customers loved her bright smile and kind words, her wandering mind meant that she was not very good at her job.

The girl knew this. And that is why she had a hard time understanding why she was continually put at the second window, or as the workers called it "the hole." Why would she be put in a position where she was bound to screw up? She didn't understand that at all. (Of course, to be fair, she had a hard time understanding a lot of things, since, like almost all extremely nice people, the girl was an idiot. A very nice idiot, to be sure, but an idiot nonetheless.) So the girl continued to do her job, and she continued to screw it up by not paying attention. As time went on, however, the girl began to see things that she hadn't before: her daydreams were starting to meld with real life. Soon, middle-aged men with missing teeth and bad comb overs and horrible breath weren't flirting with her, but trolls were. Her manager that insisted she work in the hole was more than her boss, she was an evil witch with all the charm of a poisonous snake. Customers weren't people to be helped, they were only gluttonous mouths that led into always-empty stomachs. The girl was entertained by this merging of her two worlds. And as she danced with insanity, she realized that her dreams had saved her. She hated her job, and her dreams prevented her from showing that. And they taught her that her job was temporary.Someday she would leave this place. She was not a damsel in distress trapped in some tower. She was a girl at a window, with a smile and a soul. That would have to be enough for now.

The Trouble With Supermen

Darkness reigns over the city. I laugh, enjoying the beautiful cruelty of my own creation. Suddenly, a man flies in, and he's dressed in the most garish outfit I have ever seen. Honestly, what sort of a man wears tights? He grabs me, flies away and then drops me down on a rooftop about two miles away. The indignity! "You'll be safe here, Miss," he says. Safe? I was in no danger from my creation. I turn around and slap him.

"Listen up and listen good. I don't know who you are, and I don't care. How dare you interrupt me?!"

"But you were in danger. And, as I am a Superhero, it is my job to save anyone in danger; besides, saving someone so cute is a great perk."

A hero, great. That's the last thing I need, to have some idiot bumbling around, trying to spoil my plans for destruction. The city would be mine! Wait; did he just hit on me? So much like a man. Now, there has got to be a way to use this to my advantage. "A superhero, hmm? I don't believe in them."

"What? How can you not believe in Superheroes? Of course they exist!"

"No, no, I don't believe they do. And therefore, you cannot be a superhero, sorry. You must be suffering from delusions of grandeur, you poor thing. Now, go back to the hospital and get out of that costume." He's sputtering, the poor idiot. My plan is working. Now for the final blow. "You don't exist. Get away from me." He takes one last look at the chaotic city and slowly, slowly flies away. Hah! Take that, asshole! Now then, where was I? Oh yes; now I remember. Darkness, my darkness shall reign in this city for as long as I have breath.

Picture Imperfect

This is something that Kat and I found earlier today. It's one of our old high-school satiric rants that I've copied pretty much verbatim.

Picture Imperfect:

Student IDs are Gone But Not Forgotten

From now on, students at DCHS will no longer need to have pictures taken of them. This landmark decision was started after a large-scale student protest broke out last week. The protest originated from students receiving their ID's, which many thought were unflattering. "Everybody knows the school pictures look terrible. That's why I get mine done professionally," said Bethany Cilantro, grade 11. Several students also thought that being forced to take pictures year after year is religiously offensive. These students believe that part of their soul is taken away with every picture. "It's very traumatic to watch a light flash in your eyes and know that an important part of your spirit has been stolen. And for what? Some picture that doesn't even look good," Cassandra Kateri Tekakwitha, grade 10, said. Whether the pictures are soul stealing or not, the fact remains that all students hate their pictures. There are several reasons for this. Firstly, picture day is known world-wide as Bad Hair Day. This day is actually celebrated as a holiday in Australia, New Zealand, and Canada. Of course, there is no actual celebration, because that would mean that individuals would have to leave their houses.

Also, it is a scientific fact that the night before picture day, every student will get a gigantic zit somewhere on their face. This is caused by the tremendous amount of stress that every student experiences before picture day. The stress causes oils and sweat to excrete from glands. The oil then leaks onto the face which closes the pores, and creates the bane of all adolescents, the zit. So, from now on, we no longer have to have pictures taken. But what about the yearbook, you may ask? The yearbook will give each student a 1"x1.5" space (the size their picture would have been). This space can be filled with whatever the student desires. Personally, I will be writing a 1,000 word essay on how the logging industry dramatically shortens the life of the tiger salamander, Ambystoma tigrinum. (Bring your magnifying glasses people!) The administration is freeing students from the tyranny of having to take bad pictures by eliminating them. And of course, because getting a better photographer would cost too much.

Since the September 11 terrorist attacks, airlines and many government corporations have tightened their security, and so proved there are much better means of identifying a person than their picture. So in replacement of ID pictures will be fingerprint impressions, which will fit to the grooves of each individual student's middle finger. The new security system at DCHS will learn to identifying all faculty and students, excluding, of course, the new freshmen, by their cornea scans, DNA structure, (All students will be required to give a minimum of one pint of blood at the beginning of each school year for analysis), vocal patterns and dental records. We are pleased to inform you that this automated security will only raise tuition by $2,000 per student this year. Cornea scans will be necessary to enter the building as well as each individual classroom. A DNA scan will be administered before entering the main office. The library's new computers will be accessed through voice recognition. Finally, to enter or exit any restroom, dental records must be activated by our highly advanced security system, taking as a little as thirty minutes. These security measures include all faculty members, with the exception of our principal. We applaud our administration for taking these drastic steps to respect the student body's opinion, ensure our safety and eliminate imperfection throughout our fine school.