during and after

So it's taken me three days, but in the past 72 hours of hard work, extremely poor nutrition and probably inhaling way too many paint fumes, I have taken my room from this:

To this:


Sorry that they're both flowers. I do realize that takes away from the comparison. But! It's pink! And white! And French and muted and sophisticated but not snooty and it feels like my room, and it feels like home.

baby animal of the week: elephant

I can totally picture myself befriending a baby elephant. We could go on long walks, stay up late crying over Dumbo and Water for Elephants, paint each others' toe nails...

On second thought, I think I'd rather see a baby elephant in the wild, smiling and playing with all its elephant friends. Remembering everything.

XVI by Julie Karr

Summary from Booklist:

In 2150 Chicago, girls are walking billboards. Upon turning 16, they receive government-issued tattoos on their wrists that read “XVI.” They’re supposed to keep the girls safe, but in reality, the tattoos broadcast their brand-new sexual availability.

As their sixteenth birthdays approach, Nina is increasingly disturbed by her best friend’s obsession with becoming the ideal “sex-teen” and entering the Female Liaison Specialist (FeLs) service, the only option for women from the lower tiers to move up the social ladder.

Meanwhile, Nina works hard to uncover the mystery her dead mother left behind, a secret that could end the entire FeLs program.



I was so, so looking forward to this book. The whole premise is fascinating--when girls turn 16, they basically lose any right to refuse a guy. People assume that they're obsessed with sex, appearances, clothes, boys, and sex. And for many of them, that's true. But not Nina Oberon.

For those of you who don't know, I am 16. And, to be honest, it doesn't feel like a big deal. The guys in my life are still who they were. It's not like you go to sleep one night and wake up the next morning a completely different person. Not even on your sixteenth birthday. That being said, I couldn't imagine being branded with an XVI tattoo, having everyone know that I was suddenly "available". Earlier today, at the bookstore I work at, a creepy guy called me "cutie", and I wanted to punch him in the face whilst yelling something totally feminist. So having that be the way people were expected to treat me? No way.

But there were some parts of the book that... to be frank, I didn't like. All of the slang definitely confused me. It's a dystopian novel that takes place in the future, and things like "trannies" (like cars, only more hover-y) just weren't explained enough for me to properly understand. I suppose it's just a choice: Do you back away from the story a bit to provide more info on where you are and what's happening? Or do you totally immerse yourself in the character's POV, and lose some of your audience?

Another thing that got to me were all the nicknames. This coming from the girl who grew up with very few nicknames, bear in mind. But I feel like you have to put so much thought into giving your main character the best name possible--so why cover that up with at least half a dozen nicknames? One, sure. Two, tops. I know it's a personal choice, but it's always one where I choose no.

The story follows Nina Oberon as her life changes dramatically--she meets a boy who makes her feel like love and sex might not just be government-sexteen-propaganda, finds out that her mom's abusive boyfriend Ed is much worse than she ever could've imagined, and has some serious doubts in the society that she grew up in. To me, this book was... okay.

Pro: fantastic cover, brilliant and frightening concept, likeable characters from all different class levels (which is a big deal in the XVI-universe)

Con: hard to get in to, some strange pacing (in my opinion), I felt disconnected from what was going on.

Buy/Borrow/Bust: I'd say borrow it from your local library to see if it's your taste. On the plus side, it's already out in paperback!

comfort books

Sometimes, when it's cold outside, when you're stressed out from school/work/family/life, or when you just want to curl up with something tried and true, you need a comfort book.

To me, the definition of a "comfort book" is a lot like mashed potatoes. Not something overly thought-provoking or edgy. Definitely nothing good for you. A comfort book makes you feel warm and good and instantly at home.

My version of comfort books are things that I've read before, and can read over and over again. They're YA and MG, and just plain friendly. That's the thing. As much as I hate the word, a lot of my comfort books are "wholesome". Romantic, descriptive, and full of heart.

1. Which Witch by Eva Ibbotson. This book was suuuch a big part of my childhood. It's about seven witches from a small town who compete to marry the dark wizard Arriman the Awful. Six of the witches are totally mean and nasty, and then there's Belladonna, the only "white" witch. She's kind, friendly, generous--and surprisingly good at magic, and finding ways around the general meanness of the challenges Arriman gives them, while still being successful. It's such a quietly lovely book, like a fairy tale. Really. Everything by Eva Ibbotson makes me smile.

2. The Gravesavers by Sheree Fitch. Oh, this sweet, sweet book. A family tragedy sends 12-year-old Minn to her sour grandmother's for the summer, where she meets a boy and discovers the most devastating shipwreck since the Titanic. The POV shifts between Minn and Thomas Hindley, a passenger on the S.S. Atlantic. It's just beautifully written, and weaves together the past and the present, not to mention all the different characters' stories. But my favorite part? Minn's mom's job is naming paint colors. Every time Minn looks at something--like the night sky--she comes up with a name for the color. Midnight Madness. Deepening Blue. Endless.

3. Inkheart by Cornelia Funke. I wasn't sure whether I liked this book, despite the fact that the author's name is super amazing. But everything about it is like a dream come true: when Meggie and her father read out loud, things come out of the books. Not always nice things. And every time something is pulled out of a book, something has to go back in--like Meggie's mom. It's magical and awe-inspiring, and by the end of the trilogy virtually every character felt like an old friend.

These are the books I grew up with. They make me feel good no matter what's happening in my life. Mashed potatoes squished between two covers. But not gross.

baby animal of the week: ocelot

Oh herro. Time to make today a little bit more adorable. Ocelot-style. Now, how often do you get to say that?

They have blue eyes. This amazes me. So far, all the blue-eyed things I know are human. I think.

Happy Sunday.

little things 4

Oh man. After laying down some serious teen angst on you guys in my last post, you deserve something happy and fun. So here are a few things that make me feel happy and fun:

1. Foreign accents. I know this topic has received a lot of love--my friend owns at least two "I love boys with British accents" T-shirts, which I think somewhat discriminates against all the other lovely accents and boys-who-have-them*--but it deserves all the attention it gets. Really. What could possibly be better than getting to listen to a voice that sounds so different, so unique that it's like music?**

2. Summer rain. We're getting to the end of July and we've had maybe three beautiful sunny days where I live. The rest? Cloudy. Grey. Rain. And I love it! It's warm enough to be pleasant, but cool and wet enough to mean you can close your eyes and pretend it's Autumn. Sigh. I miss the fall!

3. No school. Whoever came up with "Summer vacation"*** is a genius. Who's probably dead. Still a genius! Despite the fact that I'm working a lot, I wouldn't trade it for school. I love studying, I love learning, I just don't love the early mornings or piles of homework. I think I could get used to this "summer" thing.

There's more. There's always more. And that is excellent.

*Because come on: boys with French accents, Australian accents, Afrikaans accents, Scottish, Irish, Italian, German, Spanish, and all the other ones I'm leaving out! = too good to choose.

**This, of course, hinges on the fact that you can actually understand what they're saying!

***Probably a farmer, considering this is the time of year we're supposed to be harvesting our fields and killing our livestock and what not. I'll, uh, get right on that... We do have a lovely herb garden!

so old already

Yesterday my friend turned 16. Approximately 6 1/2 months ago, I turned 16. This may not be a big deal to you, but I'm growing up. I'm getting old. One day at a time.

I'm a nostalgic person. I don't want to be; I'd rather be in the present! Exciting! Trying new things and reveling in where I am right now! But I'm more sepia toned. I think about things. I day dream and I take a while to open up to people.

I feel like... I'm wasting my youth. I don't go out and party. I don't drink or do drugs. I've never had a boyfriend. By all stereotypes, I am someone aged between 13 and 19. I am not a teenager.

One day I'm going to look back on this and say, "I was so young and foolish." And so, to my future self, I say NO. NO STEP DOWN FROM YOUR SNOOTY, MATURE HIGH HORSE.

Yes, I am young and foolish. I am free spirited and idealistic and have dreams as big as the sky. And I will be young and foolish till the day I die.

feeling deathly hollow

I can vividly remember going camping with my family once: We stayed in a cramped tent that was much bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside and was in a bustling camp site. We were there for some kind of sports event, and everyone was selling and wearing signs and shirts with their teams colors. Then I remember smoke.

Something went wrong--there was a fire in the nearby forest, or the camp site, or something. Maybe one of the bonfires had gotten out of control.

I remember running.

I remember tripping and falling and desperately clawing at tree roots, trying to get back on my feet because we weren't just running; we were running away.

It took me a few years to realize that all these things didn't actually happen to me. It was the Quidditch World Cup in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. My dad read it to my brother and I before bed, and somehow I got so enraptured that it got melded in with my own memories.

Harry Potter is like that to me. It isn't just a book; it's a part of my life. And even though it's over (as of last night), it will always be home.

baby animal of the week: tapir

Does anybody remember this whole baby animal thing? I know I didn't. Here's your (belated) dose of cute for the week:

Baby Tapir!

I honestly don't even understand this animal. It looks like five different creatures put together into one. And yet... oddly adorable. Am I the only one who thinks this is so awkwardly cute it makes me want to "squee!" ?

when my words don't make sense anymore

Sorry for the extended leave of absence! I was away on my summer vacation--two words that hold a special place in my heart, right next to ice cream and getting things in the mail. And trust me, that means a lot when your town is a 7-hour drive from the nearest major city, and a 17-hour drive from your final destination.

And every year I am reminded of why it is so worth it to get out of town. Vancouver (a major Canadian city in southern BC, fyi) was celebrating it's 125th birthday with a 3 day festival in Stanley Park. They had performances from Canadian and international artists, like Said the Whale, Neko Case, Mother Mother, Aidan Knight and Dan Mangan. Their music was beautiful, the setting was amazing, and I'm so glad I went.

Here are some pictures from the official site, and I highly recommend you listen to some of their music, especially Aidan Knight and Dan Mangan, whom I may just have a massive crush on. They sound so beautiful, and we could all use something beautiful.