Tags: reading

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There is no frigate like a book, to take us lands away... from frustrations and bad moods.

Yesh, where have I been? ^_^ Reading and writing and offline when not in communion with Q, that's all. The name's Bond. James B--

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Don't you just love it when you 'discover' books? And even better, when you discover authors?

Sarah Dessen has been winning awards while I was still mostly immersed in Harry Potter and the Classics, and because she/any of her books hasn't been featured in the local book magazine I contribute to, which is my only input about the publishing world aside from some genre blogs and plugs online, I've been unaware.

Now I'm very aware. I'll be collecting and looking out for her books.

I've read and relished two:

The Truth About Forever (2004)
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Just Listen (2006)

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The latter is an eloquent account of the old adage, 'the truth shall set you free'. I looked it up and discovered it's been made into a movie already. And I don't wonder why, what with modeling, eating disorders, glass houses, your classic snooty high school clique queen and music in a smooth latte-like blend.

I liked The Truth About Forever better, though. I won't spoil, but see the following quotes:

"...there are no guarantees. Be alive."

"...it was okay not to fit in everywhere, as long as you did somewhere."


Unlike other YA writers I've encountered, Dessen doesn't use ultra-modern jargon non-Americans like me would need to look up in the slang dictionary. I liked that. And is this a trend? Protagonists that make you grit your teeth? LOL. Dessen's (in these two books, at least) are conflicted anti-heroines who need to see, and do make it to, the light. With help from their guy leads: to-die-for. A la Edward in their flawed perfection. But unlike Edward, they don't coddle. Oh, and unlike the Twilight books-- which, as I've been losing hair reiterating, are more romance than YA, more romance than fantasy adventure and is only being compared to HP because of its similarly huge fanbase, not because it's remotely the same, so tuck away your complaints and expectations (about there being no 'action' or 'theme' in the books/movie) if you don't know Barbara Cartland, Danielle Steele, Fern Michaels and the rest of them, please Merlin, I'm begging you--Sarah Dessen's YA is what I call 'real' YA, spotlighting growth, maturity, wisdom. So she's right there at the top along with Katherine Paterson, Lois Lowry, Louis Sachar and Jerry Spinelli in my list.

...And speaking of lovable guy leads, worthy of honorable mention is Rob in Meg Cabot's Missing You, the last book in her lesser-known Nancy Drew-with spunk 1-800-WHERE-R-U series (first published under nom-de-plume Jenny Carroll).

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It could do with a better, less cartoony, more 'serious' cover to match its content.

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I'm supposed to have been with Sherly today at the mall, but I had to cancel. And if I weren't recently steeped in good reads, I wouldn't be this unruffled about it.

Money-argument with my mom. When you live at home without needing allowance for school because you're not studying, with dishwashing as the only regular chore, you will be hard-up for money. Heh.

From here on to Sunday when our other friends have a big movie get-together planned in the city (Sherly will come, too, anyway), I'll have to be good. I'll clean the bathroom and I'll dust the living room.

For the movie and for acrylic paint.

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And here's Jego (in one of his jealous reconnoiters of the fence, barking at the mutts outside), my no-fail anti-depressant aside from books.

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Before last weekend, I've been doing at least four stories a day. I've received the first of what I'd call 'smile-mail' (Thank you very much! I will fix those right away.) and I've submitted my first problematic thingie to admin. LOL. The thing refuses to be stamped.
/scratches head.

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I promise to un-neglect your LJ's after Sunday. Mwahugs. I miss your posts, you know! How much have I been missing? *tries not to think too much about it* I hope you're all doing well, lovies.
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Non-spoiling squee-ing

6:30 am, August 4th: Thanks to our shopping yesterday, I was knocked out at 12 last night. Later, when I’m no longer reading, I’ll post a pic of me and my new car. LOL. Yeah! My car! *giggles* Wait til you see it. It’s pink. And even has Belle and Ariel on it! Woot!

7:30 am, same date: It’s raining! I’m running to the bathroom with my big kettleful of hot water for my bath. Dad’s tinkering up at the roofs. Guh.

9 am: I’ve herded Dad to shower and dress. I’m waiting and tapping my feet while he pulls on shoes. “Yuck, not crocs, Dad, please.”

9:15 am: Rain has become a pleasant, magic mist. I’m speed-walking to the terminal. Dad’s puffing on an L&M several paces behind me.

10:30 am: Still misting as Sherly and I hug inside Mini-Stop at Monumento and then we squeeze each other again while crossing the overpass to the vans. We are literally quivering with excitement. A bit later, the others in the van with us can feel it. Dad is leaning away from us.

11 am: Unlike the DH release, where Oncci and I arrived at the bookstore at 6:30 am and still didn’t lead the line (I have chronicled that release in photos. But I can't find the slide's HTML any more. You can see it at my Friendster in the link on the right), Breaking Dawn’s release is quite low-key. No line. But then perhaps we just missed them? We just proceed to the customer service counter and claim our reserved copies.

11:30 am: We are eating burgers. Sherly ignores me and just nods away when I point out… stuff. There’s that thing at the back, and the table of contents, chapter titles, etc.



And then Sherly leaves for her exams (Yeah! Prelims. And yet she cradles her Powerbooks bag like it’s a baby).

12:30 pm: Gah! Of course it’s gotta be yin and yang. Dad and I stand inside Video City, groping my bag and his pockets for my missing wallet. But the wallet is missing indeedy. It’s probably still sitting there in the giant hassock at Powerbooks, blending in perfectly with the black leather. *sigh* I’ve been using that wallet for four years! Ferragamo. Tsk. Yeah. I’m dismayed for the wallet. Thankfully, there’s no cash in it. Or I won’t be sitting here typing this blithely. ID’s (old ones, but then I haven’t really gotten new ones) membership cards (Video City, Gentxt) and used-up or expired discount and cash cards (Banco de Oro, Bayo) aside from a photo of me in a witch’s hat, and Hogwartsy MaCofWiz stickers *wail*, are all that can be found there. I hope whoever sits on it surrenders it to the Powerbooks people. So then my brother, who is reading my brand new Good Omens, can pick it up for me. He shall.

There it is, right by my left hip in the photo above! Huhu.

1:46 pm: typing this for LJ. So far, I’ve been a guest at the wedding. And if you, dear lamb, have read my uber-fluffy, froufrou-loaded Twilight fan fiction, you’ll notice that I am very near several details! Depending on your disposition, you will be a little disappointed or elated in that, since it means Mrs Meyer stayed with tradition. Hee. It’s the one traditional thing in Bella and Edward’s love story then…

I’d used up what remained of my gift cards in a practical way that made Dad proud. I opted for the paperback, and then bought The Five People You Meet in Heaven (finally) and Good Omens, which is very high up in the Funniest Novels of All Time.



*reading…*

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Onion soup for the (insomniac) soul

Wow, it really worked. I just couldn't get on watching the sunrise and then sleeping. So I boiled two cups of water, plonked in one chopped onion, added a beef cube, added salt, added milk, stirred, transferred to a mug, sipped while reading and voila... I went to dreamland not long after I lay down.

Nice!

Oh and the Book List thingy, stolen from my dear twinses, Chiara and Pippa.

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Happy valentine's, everyone!

Aaah-choo! (55x per minute) Triggered my allergy digging in my dusty shelves for these old 'posters' of mine. Dreamed of them last night. They're quotes I wrote down on cards and paper, cards and paper that I plastered all over my nook those days five, six years ago when I was feeling philosophical and preachy. Ugh. Would you believe I posted this at my door?

"It's better to prevent a sin than to pick up the broken pieces afterwards."

Nice but so priggish to post outside your door, isn't it?

The rest of the quotes, especially those by Joan Walsh Anglund, are lovely. Although my designs weren't. I'll be posting them here. Aah-choo!

'Scuse me.

Oh, ugh, and did you see the news? Emma Watson hung out with this creepy Inferius. LOL. No offense to any fans. But it's so obvious he's not clean. Of course they're not dating, I'm sure. Duh.

I couldn't feel my keys anymore when I type so I cut my nails. Forgot to file them. And then my nose evilly itched. So now I'm sporting a nose with decreased skin. Perfect red for Valentine's. I'm glad my 'date' with Sherly was postponed.


ETA: /squishes the SPEW Lovenotes!

mood:kilig! - an untranslateable Filipino word meaning that state you're in when you're kissed, or simply touched, by your Prince/Princess.
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LitCritThurs: Gaiman's Snow, Glass, Apples

Every Thursday night, I'll post my fave shorts. Mostly what I've collected from a local litcritting google group headed by my editor, The LitCritters.

For my friends here, who will lamost always read what I post here at the Babble, too, anyway! SPEWers are readers. *huggles*

Snow, Glass, Apples
Copyright (c) 1994 Neil Gaiman

I do not know what manner of thing she is. None of us do. She killed her mother in the birthing, but that's never enough to account for it.

They call me wise, but I am far from wise, for all that I foresaw fragments of it, frozen moments caught in pools of water or in the cold glass of my mirror. If I were wise I would not have tried to change what I saw. If I were wise I would have killed myself before ever I encountered her, before ever I caught him.

Wise, and a witch, or so they said, and I'd seen his face in my dreams and in reflections for all my life: sixteen years of dreaming of him before he reined his horse by the bridge that morning, and asked my name. He helped me onto his high horse and we rode together to my little cottage, my face buried in the gold of his hair. He asked for the best of what I had; a king's right, it was.

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