"Stupid people are dangerous."

You might recall my earlier posting about Suzanne Collins' trilogy, The Hunger Games, which you can check out here.  I had to read the book for my grad class last semester, and I tore through it, and then tore through the other two.  I loved the books.  Seriously, I LOVE THE BOOKS.  I have a soft spot for Young Adult lit, and I even have a soft spot for crappy YA lit, but these books made me feel like I was discovering Harry Potter all over again.  I love Harry Potter more, but I now had a new world of characters to discover and get to know.

Yes, I am one of those weirdos who feels like book characters and authors are my besties.  I cried a little bit when Maurice Sendak died (that post will come at a later point) because, growing up, I felt like we were buddies.  I don't feel that way about Suzanne Collins -- sorry, ma'am -- but the characters she created?  Man, I wish I could hang out with some of them.

Well, let me rephrase that.  I'd like to hang out with them in my world.  I don't want to live in Panem.  That place totally sucks.

So it's been 2 months since the film came out, and I still have not seen the movie.  This wasn't an HP movie, so I didn't feel the need to do a midnight showing, but I still really wanted to see the film.  My parents saw it last week, so I convinced Anthony that we're going today.  And in 4 hours, I'll FINALLY be seeing the movie I've been excited about since they announced the plans to make the film.

I'm not sure what it is about books into movies, but I seem to put off seeing the films (Again, Harry Potter is a weird exception, and it has its own set of rules, so don't question me) because I have this underlying fear that they'll ruin the book.  Most of the time, they do.

I also have an issue with people who see movie series based on books -- or even single films -- and claim that makes reading the book a non-issue.  Are you kidding me?  Stupid people are dangerous.  Thank you, Collins, for agreeing with me on that point.  I was always appalled when students told me they'd "watched the movie instead."  How can you possibly expect to get the same out of a film?  Granted, I've used films in classes; when reading The Secret Life of Bees, for example, we watched segments of the film instead of reading them in class, but that was partly a timing issue and partly a 'none-of-these-damn-kids-read' issue.  I do think some film versions of books are amazing -- I love showing To Kill A Mockingbird -- but for the most part, films are watered-down versions of amazing stories.

Think about how many people saw The Help, but wouldn't ever pick up the book.  Or, for my fellow readers, have you ever run into someone who told you they saw a movie, and when you say 'oh, did you read the book?' they respond with 'that was a book?'

Stupid people are dangerous.

I understand reading is difficult for some people.  Trust me, I teach middle and high schoolers.  I get it.  But to tell me a book is more boring than the movie?  That's just laziness.  My boyfriend is one of those people.  It's a point of contention with us, but I suppose I'm used to it by now.  I like to buy books for him, just to see what he'll do with them, but for the most part the one just sits on the back of his toilet.  Books are never more boring than movies, it's just hard for people to get pictures from the words.  A movie cuts out all the work, but is that the best way to go about it?

There's something to be said about reading the books first.  I'll let you know how I feel about the movie.

A Passage to India

I suppose at this point it shouldn't shock me to log in and see the last time I posted.  ALMOST TWO MONTHS AGO?  How could I let it get this bad?

Truthfully, I feel bad -- not for any of my 'readers' who have since given up on my actually completing this project -- but, selfishly enough, for myself and my horrific lack of motivation.  I find that the more effort I put into things, the less I get out of it.  It's really a downer.  I apply for job after job, day after day, and I either hear nothing back or, true story, I get an interview and a job offer and somehow STILL end up without a job.  Much like Voldemort, that will be the job-interview-that-must-not-be-mentioned.

I really have to remind myself that this blog -- and most other things in my life -- are for me.  They aren't for anyone else.  Yes, I love to write and I love to share, but this blog is for me.  I started it during a rather low part of my life, and much has changed since then.  One day I will go back and reread some of these posts and think to myself 'wow, you were really insane.'  Then I'll remind myself of the goal for this blog, and think 'okay, okay, you had some decent insights back then.  And,' I'll hopefully think to myself, 'you've come a long way.'

Or, I might just delete the whole thing in embarrassment.

The point is I'm trying to stop beating myself up for the little things.  This is a side project, something fun, and although I wish I was updating more often, I'm not going to freak out anymore over 1 month, or even 2.

Right now, I'm reading A Passage to India by E. M. Forster.  It's a slow process because I only really pick it up during prep periods while subbing, but it's excellent.  It's also the last book on the syllabus for my grad class that ended on April 30th.  I didn't finish the book for our last class because I was too busy finishing my research paper on James Joyce.  I got a basic summary from a classmate, so I know how the book ends and I knew the major climax in the story... but for some reason, I really felt the need to keep reading.  It might be because it came after some very painful  Brit novels -- after not reading Tarr and becoming disgusted with Joyce, it was much easier to read -- but the book is written so well and so subtly that I couldn't put it down.

Once I finish the book, I might watch the movie.  Who knows?  I still haven't seen The Hunger Games, but I made Anthony promise to see it with me this weekend.  I'll probably put off watching the movie like I do everything else, but in 2 months, I'll let you guys know.

ps - I'm also halfway through A Doll's House.  My summer class is all drama, so I'm going to be reading the Greek classics up through modernism.  And he gives reading quizzes, so I won't be skipping any :)

Hypocrisy at its finest

I did not read my book for class last night.  Seriously, I didn't read it.  And it wasn't because I didn't have time -- we had spring break last week -- and it wasn't because I had too much to do.  I mean, I was busy.  I've been lucky enough to sub every day for three straight weeks -- taking off today was a choice (Anthony and I have special plans today) -- and I started my second job last week, so I did have a lot going on.  But it was simply because reading that book would have been a ridiculous waste of my time.  I hate to say that, because in general I enjoy school and reading and discussion, but I refused to waste my time on this assignment.

The assignment at hand was to read Tarr, a novel by Wyndham Lewis I bitched about in my last entry.  In all fairness I tried to read the first chapter, but by the end of it I still had NO idea what the eff was going on.  Online summaries (there are about 2, and both stink, by the way) were not overly helpful, so I decided to do something I rarely ever do and neglect to read the book.  I openly admitted that to anyone who asked that I hadn't read it, but really, we spent half of class discussing the novel, and now we're done with it.  That's it.  Less than 2 hours of my life.  Am I glad I didn't read it?  You bet.  And I wasn't the only one.  Thank goodness for Ben, a fellow graduate student that I met in class last semester.  Of the 4 people (myself included) from last semester's class who sit in the very back row, he was the only one who read the book.  Danielle and I skipped it, and Beth wasn't even in class.  What a great use of my money.

Don't get me wrong; I enjoy grad school, I like the other students in my program, and I like both professors I've had so far.  What I do not enjoy is being mixed in with undergraduate students who are pretentious and not that smart.  I know I was one of them just a few years ago, but it's frustrating to be in a class and not get to discuss certain aspects of novels/poetry because they aren't at that level.

Anyway, I didn't read the book.  And I still participated in the discussion and got positive feedback from my professor.  I may not have directly commented on the novel itself, but I added to class.  Ahhh, the art of bullshitting.

I learned how to bullshit my way through a discussion in high school when I didn't read Babbitt (which I think I mentioned last entry).  I still got an A on the final paper and pulled out some solid comments during a discussion, but I never actually read the book.  As a teacher, it drives me crazy when students don't read for class.  Hypocrisy?  I don't want to go that far.  Even when I've refused to read something -- or honestly just didn't have the time -- I still prepare myself for class.  I'll read summaries and author bios, even read critical analysis to make sure I at least can follow the conversation and lecture.  Does that make me a bad student?  Or does that simply make me the best kind of student?  (Obviously I like to think of myself as a pretty fantastic student, but really, can I be both in this situation?)

I don't like to think about how much money I pay for these classes when I'm refusing to read something for class, but maybe that's why I act this way.  I'm paying a decent amount of money for this class, and I'm not going to waste my time on something pointless.  As long as it doesn't come back to haunt me, anyway.

Tarr and Jane Slayre: An Easy Decision

I read a book for fun last week.  No, seriously, I did.  This is an exciting moment!  This week La Salle is on Spring break, so my class tonight is cancelled.  Well, I guess it's not cancelled, but it's more non-existent, since it was never scheduled in the first place.  Watching my words!  Anyway, since class is cancelled (thank goodness) I decided that I could take a breather from working on my paper and spend some time reading a book I picked up on the bargain shelf at Barnes and Nobel -- Jane Slayre.  Now, before you jump to conclusions, although the author is clearly using the popularity of books like Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, she's not part of those publications.  I haven't read any of the Jane Austen style books (even though I love zombies) because I can't stand Jane Austen (see early posting Jane-Austen-Phobia from September of 2010 for more information).  Jane Eyre, though, is one of my favorite books, so a Jane who stakes vampyres?  PARTY.

Strangely enough, although I really did love the book -- if you're a Bronte fan, and enjoy a good parody, I'd suggest it-- it reminded me of the one Austen book I didn't hate.  Actually, it was the only Austen book I ever finished, but really, Jane Slayre reminded me a little of Northhanger Abbey because of all the supernatural elements.  Interesting!  And although it was a fun, quick read (really, 2 days and I was finished.  If anyone wants to borrow, let me know) I started thinking about literary merit.  Grad school is warping my brain.

But really -- how much credit should I give the author?  It was Charlotte Bronte's story, and some sections are essentially word-for-word.  Should she even be given the title of author?  The plot of the story was mostly intact, but it was lacking all of the symbolism from the original. It wasn't literature anymore, but fluff.  Yes, if you really wanted to enjoy the book, reading the original was necessary, but there was nothing to analyze, nothing to discuss, no deeper meaning.  It really just made me want to read Jane Eyre.

You know, with all the free time I have. 

I did originally toy with a paper topic that would allow me to use Jane, but instead I'm sticking with just James Joyce, which brings me to topic two of this post.  Has anyone read Tarr?  In case you are wondering what Tarr is all about, here's a link to the Wikipedia paragraph about the novel.  It's a modernist novel by a guy I know only through his mention in A Moveable Feast.  Hemingway hated him.  And since I love Hemingway, I wasn't thrilled to see Wyndham Lewis on my grad class syllabus.  There is only one other novel I refused to read, but I might have to add another book to the list.  I couldn't even get through two pages today without wanting to throw the book across the room.  It's not that it's confusing, I just have no desire to waste my time on a book that even our professor said wouldn't make any sense.

Over it.

I enjoy challenging literature.  I like to think analytically and critically about my reading.  I do not like to feel  patronized, or like the literature I read isn't on a level high enough.  I don't enjoy pretentious literature.  We had to look at an excerpt from Finnegan's Wake in class the other day.  Pretentious. No one can honestly say they enjoy that.

Although, I have a blog about literature.  Maybe I'm the pretentious one.

And, in case it was bothering you, the other book I refused to read was Babbitt in 10th grade Humanities. And in my defense, almost the entire class was in the library sparknote-ing the book before class for about 3 straight weeks.  I don't think anyone read the book...

No one should trust me with a blog... NO ONE.

Last Published: November 29th.  WHAT IS MY LIFE?

Honestly, though, I can't believe I let things go this long.  Almost 3 months since my last post!  And it's not that I forgot about my blog -- really, I thought about updating pretty frequently.  It just was that I had nothing to say.

Really?  Me, nothing to say?

Let me clarify: I've been reading (I'll talk about that in a later post) but most of my reading has been centered on class (20th century brit lit, what a joy!) and over the winter break, I spent most of my time applying for jobs.  And not just teaching jobs, oh no.  I quit my job at the wine store right before Christmas (long story that has no place here) and then ended up with a job that just didn't work out with the timing of things.  AKA there was no need for my to be an employee, and I needed a part time job with real hours and hourly pay.  I did hear back about a tutoring job today, though, so fingers crossed on that!

Really, though, I didn't update because I'd put myself into a downward spiral of 'funk.'  And not the good, James Brown funk, but the I hate myself and my life kind of funk.  I knew it was a silly way to be; after all, I'm lucky to have at least the subbing jobs and to have a cheap place to live, even if it is with my parents.  It's just hard to find the positive in my current situation, and I didn't really feel like I had anything worthwhile to say.  That's a bad place to be, especially for someone like me, who really enjoys the sound of her own voice. 

The one thing that has helped?  Remembering why I did it.  I knew I didn't want to stay in Maryland forever, and the timing of leaving was because of a variety of events.  I just couldn't stay there anymore.  I wanted to get my masters in English, I wanted to be closer to family and to my home.  So I've pulled myself back up and set realistic goals.  Updating this blog every day is not a realistic goal, and reading all of those books in a year with my schedule was not a realistic goal.  Instead, I'm going to add to the list and just keep on reading.  And maybe, just maybe, I'll one day finish them all.

For now, though, I have to finish the end of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.  And speaking of Joyce, maybe I should add Ulysses to my reading list.

Or not.