History Comes Knocking

How do you avoid getting excited about a presidential race that, FINALLY, looks a lot more like America? Whomever prevails in November, we are living in astonishing times. An African American is the nominee for the Democrats and a woman has been nominated as the VP pick for the Republicans. I'm tingling!

Think about it... hard on the heels of the anniversaries of both the 19th Amendment being passed and Dr. Martin Luther King giving his "I Have A Dream" speech, these two Americans have emerged to stand in the spotlight of history.

And so, regardless of which party takes the White House in this election, we will be making history. In January the nation will finally-- FINALLY!!-- be represented by either a black man as president or a woman as vice president. Change is coming. There is no longer a wimp-out option. The bigots of the country must be flipping out. We've nailed the back door shut!

Come on... you don't have to even have political opinions to get goosebumps. It's just plain AWESOME!

Whatever I want

Summer's last hurrah is here. Not only is it the last weekend in August--but we also have an early Labor Day. So pretty much, I'm thinking nobody is going to pay attention to what I post today.

But I'm not skipping because Rhonda is going to get me back. I don't know when or how...by she will get me for the jib-jab Wednesday.

So, I have decided to share with you my top three favorite music videos of all time. They are not necessarily my favorite songs (though I do like them) but they are my favorite videos.


I never get tired of that one...and I still love her hair. His too.

Next:


That one just....surprised me when I first saw it. And it makes me happy.

Next:


Is there anything cooler?


So what are your favorite music videos?

Road Trip!

As you're reading this, I'm probably on the road, driving to Hilton Head Island, SC. Unless it's after about 1 pm, in which case, I am now sunbathing on the beach. Unless it's raining. (Please don't be raining!)

Mr. Brice and I left DC at 3 am. Yes, I know that's insanely early. I'd originally wanted to leave after work on Wed evening and drive halfway, go eat yummy barbeque somewhere in Eastern North Carolina (mmm...), spend the night in a hotel, and then continue in the morning. But Mr. Brice rightly pointed out that we'd just be stuck in traffic for a long time.

So 3 am Thursday morning it is. Why didn't we leave later? Well, because I am determined to lay out this afternoon. And the traffic is really light when there are no cars on the road.

Anyway, depending on when you read this, I'll either be on the road, stopping for breakfast (likely around 7 am at one of the 25792735923 Cracker Barrels along I-95), or on the beach. Or if you don't get to it until Thurs night, there's a good chance I'm eating seafood, playing board games with my parents, or having drinks down at Harbor Town.

And hopefully I got my revisions back to my agent before I left. LOL!

So, anyone have any fun plans for Labor Day weekend?

Where in the World is Rhonda?

I was kind of worried that Rhonda hadn't posted yet today. I found her...but boy is Mel gonna be mad.

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Tuesday Musings

I'm in a philosophical mood today. Full of wonderings and posturings. I will not, however, wax poetic. Let's preceed, shall we?

Why is high school called high school? It's not the highest form of school - that would be college. Shouldn't college be called high school? Then high school could be called medium school.

Are there other numbers of pencils besides the Number 2? If so, what are they used for?

After all that forced math, why do I still have no clue how to balance my checkbook?

Where is my checkbook?

What on earth made me think boys were so intimidating? Especially now that I know most of them are afraid of me.

Speaking of math, what is the new math? Where did the old math go?

My brain is starting to hurt. That is all.

things to do on a rainy day

I'm at the beach. It's raining. Hard.

Here is a list of things I can do today:

1. Read
2. Write
3. Watch movies
4. Do Aerobics
5. Clean
6. Play the game of Life
7. Play Guitar Hero or Rock Band
8. Laundry
9. Bake or cook something comforting
   
10. Pick my nose
11. Eat, drink, and be merry
12. Decorate for Christmas
13. Coordinate my outfits for the next week.
14. Color my hair (probably red since I have a thing)
15. Get inked
    
    

These are my options. Can you pick out the items that I won't be doing?

Do you have any other suggestions?

My Secret Semptember Shame

It's my favorite time of year, for lots of good reasons. But I'm going to share with you, gentle reader, the really freaky reason. I have a problem. I'm obsessed with something a little weird and I can't get the monkey off my back. And the sick thing is a lot of us-- writers-- share the addiction. So back-to-school time is tough. The ads are everywhere. There's no way to hide from them...

SCHOOL SUPPLIES

Oh my word... they call to me like candy. Bright, shiny, colorful-- like prettily wrapped jewels designed to catch the eye of a deranged magpie like myself. Sparkly! Shiny! Bright and fancy and NEW!!!

So seductive. The little cellophane tabs in purple and blue and pink? Oh my. I could organize my plot book with those. The hard-back theme notebooks defying conventional black and white covers with swirls of bold print in lime green, orange, teal? My character sketches want to live in them like modernized condos for fiction. The brand new packs of unbroken crayons? Magenta and cyan blue and vandyke brown--- ooooh they're calling me!


I didn't like school much til I moved on to college. College became my place to blossom and I loved it. But I've always had this secret... this shameful yet diliriously delicious addition to all things paper, pencil, and pen related. Blank pages have always made me itch. Freshly shaved pencil wood gives me shivers. Turn my palm and you will find a lifeline pock-marked with blue dots-- the scars of pencil led driven into my hands as I furiously erased something I'd sketched. I cherish them: battle-scars of a young artist.

So while many of you may be in mourning as the summer comes winding down with a wistful sigh, I am all ajangle with joy. It's school supply season. I can smell the ink on the wind! Bubble-gum-like pencil sharpeners and ice-cream colored triple folders beckon me. I'm hooked. I admit it. Get out of my way, I need to get to the closest Target NOW!

Book review: I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone

Sometimes, I had to put this book down--not because I didn't love it, but because I needed time to absorb and sometimes I needed time to rest. I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone by Stephanie Kuehnert grips the reader so tightly and envelops the reader so completely that its easy to get really tired living Emily Black's life with her. The reader is left emotionally raw...regularly.

As a caveat, I'd like to warn you that while this book is about a young adult--the theme and subject matter are very mature. Meaning sex, drugs, rock and roll are prevalent, as are adult situations and language. It was never gratuitous--I'd say it is maybe an R rating by movie standards. (which will probably jack up her sales by me saying that, which is fine by me--the book was phenomenal)

Ms. Kuehnert crafted a tale of a mother and daughter against the backdrop of the punk scene. Emily's mother, Louisa, abandoned Emily and her Dad when Emily was very young. What Emily carries with her is an image of a free-spirit who left to follow the music of her heart and soul. As Emily grows, she uses the same music to nurture her own soul and to be close to Louisa, whom she has painted as a rock goddess.

Louisa, on the other hand, lives her life running not from Emily nor to music. She is running away from herself--and well, we all know that doesn't take you too far.

Not being part of the punk scene is not a problem. Read this book and you will feel like you are there. You will be a part of it. You will feel the bass in your chest, you will smell the smoke and the sweat, you will taste the freedom. And you will yell at Emily, "No! Don't do that!" and you will yell at "Emily. Oh my God! I can't believe you just did that!" And your heart will be broken--more than once, I promise you.

I can't wait for another book by Stephanie Kuehnert. She rocks.

"If I Can Die in a War, Why Can't I Buy a Beer?"

As college freshman leave home this week, presidents from 100 of the nation's best-known universities, including Duke, Johns Hopkins, Syracuse, Tufts, and Ohio State, are asking lawmakers to lower the nation's drinking ages (ages, plural...drinking age is a state issue, although every state in the country has adopted the age-21 requirement or face losing 10% of its federal highway funding) from 21 to 18.

Many groups, such as Mothers Against Drunk Driving, oppose this measure, saying it encourages binge drinking and will lead to more fatal crashes.

I disagree. In fact, I think it will be the exact opposite, and I applaud the college presidents for taking the lead.

We've previously discussed this in a roundabout way when Gwen said she occasionally allows her kids wine with dinner:
http://fictionistas.blogspot.com/2008/04/but-all-european-parents-are-doing-it.html

In countries where the drinking age is 18, 16, or even no drinking age at all, teenagers are exposed to alcohol at a much earlier age by having a glass of wine at dinner with their parents. It's just a normal part of life, so when they go off to college or get to the legal drinking age, it's no big deal. They don't feel any pressure to binge drink because it's just alcohol.

In the US, however, we treat alcohol as a taboo. And teens love taboos. Let's face it...teens love to rebel. If you say something's off-limits, they'll immediately gravitate towards it.

So if you're at a party where the booze is flowing, you'll drink. And drink. And drink. Who knows when the next time is that you'll get to drink, so you overdo it. And because you can't drink at home or in a safe environment, you end up having to drive afterwards.

Same thing with college. Once campuses started really cracking down on underage drinking, it was pushed off-campus. Why do you think the Duke lacrosse players were at an off-campus house the night of that ill-fated stripper party? Because they couldn't drink on campus. And when you push drinking off-campus, you inadvertantly force students to drive. (Yes, I know they could call cabs. That's not the issue here. The issue is off-campus vs. on-campus.)

Lower the drinking age, and you'll bring alcohol back to campus. Social life will return to campus, and students won't have to drive. They can just walk back to their dorm.

Lower the drinking age, and students won't feel the need to binge drink. We're one of the only countries in the world with a binge-drinking problem among teens and college students. Why is that? Well, I think it's because of our high legal drinking age.

When something's illegal, you tend to overindulge in it, for fear that you won't get to do it ever again. But if it's just a normal part of life (like how alcohol is treated in many other countries, particularly in Europe), then you don't feel any need to binge.

So I applaud these college presidents for a common sense solution to a problem and hope that lawmakers follow suit. And even if the drinking age doesn't get lowered, at least the president have started a dialogue and hopefully other solutions will be offered as well.

I know my opinion won't necessarily be popular amongst parents (although it will be amongst teens), but that's OK. So what do you think about binge drinking and drunk driving? Do you think the drinking age should be lowered? Raised? Left the same? Did your parents let you drink as a teen? Dish!

My cabin vacation

Sorry I'm late posting, but I JUST got back in from my vacay in Hocking Hills, Ohio (which is in the middle of the state, south of Columbus). We stayed for 3 days in some GORGEOUS cabins down there.

While we were there, we went canoeing (I didn't fall in, thank GOD, haha--though the manpanion's canoe that he was sharing with my aunt tipped...poor them!). We also went hiking on a trail at Old Man's Cave. Here are a couple of photos of my trip (of course, all images copyright Rhonda Stapleton 2008):

Here's an image of our cabin. It was 3 stories--had 5 bedrooms. A fully decked-out kitchen (dude, it had a dishwasher. I DON'T HAVE A DISHWASHER IN MY HOUSE! Waaaaah!). Three porches. A hot tub big enough for 8 (oh man, I lived in the hot tub). Air conditioning.

I tell ya, this is my idea of camping! LOL

We went on a hike in one of the state park areas. It was absolutely stunning, the view in the woods. I couldn't believe how many photo shots I kept wanting to take!

This bridge was SO pretty. It was a stone construction. I had to take a shot, of course.

This was another lovely bridge--wooden this time. The walkways were mostly smooth from traffic, but you had to be careful where you walked--there were tree roots and rocks and such all over the place!

A beautiful scene with dappled sunlight streaming through the leaves. Aaaah, I'm such a poet. LOL.

Anyway, it was the perfect mini-vacation with the perfect weather. Couldn't have asked for better temperatures!

I was also highly productive writing-wise, thank you very much. I got 3 chapters revised and added 12 new pages to my manuscript. YAY me!

So, what about you--any good camping stories? Fantastic places you like to visit?

Powerful Friends

I like having powerful friends. I don't mean I lunch with Donald Trump, I mean I have friends who support me no matter what I wear or choose to eat or not eat, no matter what kind of car I drive, the size of my house, what my parents do for a living...sorry, that was a brief slide into high school. Where those things seemed to matter to some people.

I remember high school pretty well. I wasn't exactly awash in friends. I had some and they were good ones, but it was a very small group. And most of them didn't have friends beyond that group either. Why didn't I have more friends? Why wasn't I one of the popular kids? Well, I was smart and didn't hide it. I was taller than most. I didn't wear the popular clothes, I wore stuff bought in NYC when my mom and I made our buying trips for my parents' clothing store. I wasn't a cheerleader or in band. I didn't play any sports. I spent a lot of time in the library.

Things are so different now. I have a lot of friends...I mean a lot. People know who I am. They like me. They value my opinion. What's changed? Let's see...I'm still smart and taller than most. I still sometimes wear outrageous things. I'm still not a cheerleader and I still think the library is cool.

So what's changed? I no longer feel like an outsider. If anything I feel like an insider. Maybe that's the clue. What do you think? Has the quality of your friendships changed since you grew up?

the perfect mate

When I was a kid, I used to daydream about my perfect mate. I had a checklist of criteria he had to meet before I would even consider accepting him as a lifelong partner.

1. He had to be at least 6 ft tall. I'm not dainty and I wanted my man to make feel feminine. In my mind that meant he had to be tall.
2. He didn't have to come from money, but he had to be headed toward money. I had a certain lifestyle I wanted to achieve and money would be required.
3. He had to adore me because frankly, everyone should adore me. I'm awesome.
4. He had to make me laugh.
5. He had to be willing to name a son Ian.
6. He had to love his momma but not be a momma's boy.
   

That was it. My checklist for my perfect guy.

Now, when I started seriously dating, I can tell you very quickly started to see the error in my list. My first serious boyfriend was only 5'9. Great guy. We dated for a long time, but he was not the man I would marry. Aside from his height, he met most of my original requirements. Apparently, he eventually had a kid and even named him Ian.

Before I met Fishdog, I dated a few others. I really did want a tall guy. I mean, *rowr* I love me some tall men. I even met one guy who met all of my requirements...but he still wasn't the man for me.

I decided maybe it was time toss the checklist. Obviously I had not figured out the list to love.

Then I met Fishdog. I was on a date (yes, a date) with another guy (who I never would've gone out with if I still used my list of love). When Fishdog walked in, I told my girlfriend "That's the man I'm going to marry." (even though he was only 5'10)

One and a half years later, I became Mrs. Fishdog. And I've made a new list of love:

1. He had to adore me because frankly, everyone should adore me. I'm awesome.
2. He had to make me laugh. Alot.
   
3. He had to be willing to name a son Ian.
4. He had to love his momma but not be a momma's boy
5. He had to respect my need for independence.
6. He had to love me for me and not expect me to change.
7. He had to make me laugh. Alot.

I like my new list a lot better.

I'm Wild About Harry and I'm Really Upset!!

Say it ain't so, Harry! It has been announced that The Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince Movie has been postponed for release in July of 2009. The movie would have been ready but too much competition (from, for instance, Stephanie Meyer's Twilight Movie) made a November release a bad investment decision.

I don't know about you, but I'm ticked off. I mean, sure... everyone has moved on. There are only a few die-hard Hogwarts-heads left. I'm one of them. The promise of the movie was nursing my withdrawal symptoms. I've had a monkey on my back for seven books now and it's over... but I'm not ok yet. I'm not over Harry. I NEED MY FIX.

Have you seen the trailer?

I just don't know if I can make it. A YEAR???

*whimper*

Hold me?

A Fair-y post

I am draped across my couch writing this with the front door wide open cuz we don't need no stinkin AC in the Northwest...except for days like today. Today would have been a good AC day. Instead, I have an open front door.

Which not only brings in much needed fresh air...but noise.

The county fair is taking place about a mile away from my house, so I can hear the music, the screaming, an occasional announcer...and I am wondering when did I lose all desire to actually go?

I used to love the fair. The animal barns, the great big vegetables on display--and the rides! Oh gosh I used to love the rides. Now, I can do one fairly lame one and I usually wish I'd skipped it. But my favorite part, of course, was the food.

Why does EVERYTHING taste and smell so much better at the fair? (unless of course you are tasting it on the way back up after a non-advisable spin on the tilt-a-whirl--but again, I digress). My husband brought me an elephant ear this evening, so I'm feeling pretty content...but oh my gosh...even hot dogs taste good at the fair.

So, what is your favorite part of the fair? Do you still go?

Pressure and Controversy

You remember the struggles and pain you had
When all the good had turned to bad
For it all to simply just go away...
But when the pressure builds and tears you apart
How are you able to not depart
How are you able to still carry a smile
When everything inside is in a pile

That was an excerpt from a poem called "Champion", written by star US gymnast, Shawn Johnson. She wrote it during a stay at the national training center in March as a way to put into words the pressure she and her teammates feel to succeed.

I can't even imagine that type of pressure, at the tender age of 16, no less. The "ladies" on the US women's team range in age from 16 to 20 (team captain, Brown University student Alicia Sacramone). Your country's hopes riding on your back as you tumble and throw your body all over the mat.

You're 1 point away from the leaders with 2 rotations to go. Olympic gold is within your reach if you can just do your job. But you fall. Your nerves get the best of you. And you blame yourself because your team took silver.

That's what happened to Sacramone in the team finals. She fell during her mount on the beam and then again after a tumbling pass in the floor exercise. Some people feel that as the team captain, she has the most pressure, especially since she's the oldest, and thus able to internalize it more.

It's said that the older gymnasts feel more pressure, and the younger the team is, the less pressure they feel, because perhaps they don't understand it as much.

That could be one explanation for using underage athletes. I'm sure by now you've heard of the controversy over the Chinese women's gymnastics team. Last month, the NY Times uncovered evidence (as posted on the Chinese national team's websites earlier this year, but now taken down) that not all of their gymnasts are the legal age of 16 (or at least 15 1/2...a gymnast must turn 16 within the calendar year in which the Olympics take place in order to compete).

Sports Illustrated link

Even before I'd heard that a couple of the Chinese gymnasts had previously been reported as having birthdays in 1994 (but suddenly this year their records have been "corrected" and they now have government-issued passports that state they were born in 1992), I said to Mr. Brice, "wow, some of those girls look 8 or 9!" One of the girls is just 4'6" and weighs only 68 pounds. Now, I know gymnasts are typically very small, but that's just beyond tiny for a 16-year-old. That was about my size in 5th grade! Not to mention that she has a missing tooth...

My husband couldn't figure out why a team would falsify documents like that. In his mind, a 16-year-old would be stronger, and thus better than a 14-year-old. But he's forgetting two key issues. First, a bigger and more powerful gymnast pounds the floor in her landings with much more force than a smaller one. With a couple extra years of the extra force in the landings (6 more years, in the case of Sacramone), this can add up to stress injuries much more easily. Second, the younger gymnasts are more fearless and have less stress.

But I don't know about that. I'd think that competing for the host country would lead to an awful lot of stress, too.

Anyway, what do you think about the stress and pressure we put these young girls under? With the exception of the team leaders, these are teenagers, for the most part). And do you really think Deng Linlin (the super little bitty one with the missing tooth) is 16?

My sister and her hunt for a career

I don't think I've talked about my sister Lisa on the Fictionistas blog yet. Which is a shame, because she's truly provided me lots of fodder for my stories. See, Lisa is like me, but cracked out to the nth degree (no, she's not REALLY on crack--she's just crazy talk, like the rest of the women in my family, LOL).

Anyway, my sister has held a variety of jobs to date, including:

--carny

--telemarketer for accidental death and dismemberment insurance

--leech cage cleaner in a pharmacy

--night security for a trucking company

--bookstore employee

--waitress

--middle school sub for an art class (*shudder*)

Right now, Lisa works as a criminal justice/paralegal teacher at a local college, because her BA (in liberal arts), involved schooling in these areas. But she's ready to move on to bigger and better things--and what would be better than a career in criminal justice, her main area of interest?

However, my sister has a few specifications for any job she undertakes:

1. no involuntary body secretions or oozing (blood/sweat/etc.)

2. she should not have to run for her life at any point in the job

3. she should be nowhere near prisoners or shivs

These three factors alone rule out, like, 95% of all criminal justice jobs, LOL. So what about the other 5% that's left? Well, the rest of her specifications should knock those out quite nicely:

4. nothing that requires science on a middle-grade level or higher

5. nothing that requires a sense of direction

6. no math

However, Lisa thinks she has stumbled across the ideal criminal justice job for her: deputy coroner. Basically, she'd work with the coroner and medical examiner's office to determine how a person died.

And what's even scarier? My sister would be issued a GUN and would have the right to arrest people. She's stoked, because there's no training camp/physical fitness test required, which means no sweating (see rule #1). My mom is FREAKING OUT.

My sister. With a gun. AND the right to arrest people? God help us all. LOL.


So, what about you? Do you have any job specifications? Share with the group!!

Are you an innie or an outie?

I'm talking pressure, not belly-buttons. All this Olympic fervor has got me thinking - dangerous, I know - about pressure. Many of those athletes are very young. How would I have handled that kind of pressure at their ages? Probably with a big fat meltdown. See, I'm an internal pressure kind of girl, not an external one.

What's the diff? Lemme explain. First of all, I don't think you can have external pressure without internal pressure, but I do think you can have internal without the external.

Examples:

External: My agent expects me to turn in the best book possible.
Internal: I then expect myself to produce the best work possible.

See how the first creates the second? However, if I set a goal for myself, such as finishing a book by a certain date and that goal is strictly self-created, then that's internal pressure alone. Makes sense, right? I'm sure you could come up with all kinds of internal pressure that you've created for yourself.

Now when it comes to certain types of external pressure, I'm no good. Ask me to perform in some capacity before a large crowd and I get shaky and faint. I've been a Golden Heart nominee twice and both times the thought of actually winning made me nauseous. True as the day is long.

I can rock internal pressure, though. Let me make a list of To Do's and although I will make it inhumanly long, I will accomplish all the biggies. What's the difference between the two? I don't know, I just know how I respond.

So what's it like for you? What kind of pressure do you thrive under? Do you have coping mechanisms that help you through? Are you an innie or an outie?

olympics=patriotism?

I'm not watching the Olympics this year. Does that make me unpatriotic?

As a young girl, I eagerly anticipated the Summer Olympics, especially during the Mary Lou Retton years. I wasn't a gymnast but I loved watching those girls twist, bend, flip, and jump their way to a medal. It was fascinating.

But this year? I could care less. And I kinda feel bad about it.

Only, here's the thing, I really hate that the Olympics are in Beijing. The air quality is terrible, and we shouldn't put our athletes through that, but that's not even the main reason.

Basic human rights. China is notorious for their uncaring and inhumane treatment of their own people. Why should we support their economy...which ultimately supports their human rights policies.

I support the athletes and wish them every success in the world. But I really struggle with watching this year's events. I suppose I could equate this to supporting the soldiers but not supporting the war. But I can't help but feel a little bit unpatriotic in the process. What do you think? Do I still bleed red, white, and blue?

Vamps, Weres, Hype, and Choices

Well, dawn broke and you better be careful where you step... those shards are sharp. Stephanie Meyer's blockbuster smash Breaking Dawn is creating quite a buzz. And some critics are making, I think, pretty valid points about concerns of a subtle message of abuse. Others insist the book is ultra-conservative and anti-choice. And some are even accusing Meyer of racism.

Check out the blogosphere:

Dear Author Discussion

Alisa Valdes Rodriguez Discussion

SBTB Discussion

Jezebel Discussion

You know, I think the accusations of racism are ridiculous. I am not troubled by the notion that a book for teen girls might be pro-pregnancy without being anti-choice or particularly pro-life. I AM a bit troubled by a few other aspects of the series that don't seem to be getting as much press.

I'm troubled that Edward is nearly 100 years old, and he's dating a 17 year old girl. So he looks 19 or so. He isn't. And he's condescending, controlling, melodramatic, and has some pretty solid stalker tendencies.

Ok... it's fiction... but still. This isn't really a love story. It's alleged to be a story about hope and love, but really it's a bit of an angsty celebration of dark and broken luuurve and how "nobody gets us" and we're special so we get to transcend and be creepily dark and brooding ever after but really we're all happy cuz it's luuurve.

Erm. K.

It wasn't my cup of tea, though I did think the world building and story were finely crafted. I felt the characters were a tad silly and very unrealistic as teenagers, even nearly-100-year-old teenagers. I was relieved to find many teens I respect agreeing with me. PHEW!

But if you love luurve stories with creepy vampy stuff, and if you love luurve stories with a bit of humor and some weird twists, and if you love a good bit of world building, I can recommend an alternative.


Have you discovered PC and Kristin Cast?

OMG you SO need to. I picked up Meyer and yeah... The Twilight Saga has its merits, but it's not my thing. What the Casts-- a mother daughter writing team and how cool is THAT?-- accomplish (at least in my view) is the world Meyer couldn't sell. In their House of Night Series we get teenagers who sound and act like teenagers, even those with unusual and often spectacular powers. One of the things I immediately liked about the series was the respect paid to Cherokee traditions (my dad is Cherokee) without exploiting them.

The Casts have done something fascinating with their vampire finishing school setting. When teens plucked from the main stream are Chosen to fulfill their destiny, they don't get a guarantee. Zoey Redbird enters this world and finds herself facing greater challenges as she discovers greater gifts. But at its simplest, this series is really a metaphor for adolescence itself-- vampyres have to make it through The Change. It comes without warning; those who survive become full fledged vamps, those who don't die in agony. This is really the secret crux of young adult fear and angst: we all want to grow up, but we all want to stay young forever, too. The tension between longing for freedoms and powers awaiting us in adulthood and wishing to cling to the safety and freedom from responsibility that is youth makes for a heady pull of opposites. There is freedom in lack of responsibility, too. But the ultimate freedom comes in embracing the fear and owning yourself, whatever hard choices may come.

I loved the first three House of Night books, and can't wait for the next (due out in September) for this, among many, reasons. But even if they weren't brilliantly crafted, they're smart and funny. That's one combination I can never resist.

It's all about choice in the end. Meyer certainly has many loyal readers, and I own her books, too. But lest we get caught up in the hype and criticism, remember there are other choices. Making them is the ultimate exercise in personal empowerment, and what young (or old) adult can't get into that?

Olympimania

The Summer Olympics start today...and so far all I've really felt is a lot of controversy. The smog, the banned athletes, the protests concerning Tibet, security issues--it just seems to have taken some of the steam away from how I remember the games being.

When I was a teenager, we got very excited about the Olympics. Very, very excited.
For one thing..I came of age during the Summer 1984 Games....and this is how I got there:

Thanks Bart.

Good Going Greg.

Peter you rock.

Mitch owned my soul.

But it wasn't just 1984. I remember in 1986, two brave men were training for the 1988 Olympics...as synchronized swimmers. This is the American spirit people.