Anticipating 2011

It's so weird that another year has gone by already. Time has slipped through my fingers, it seems. Anyway, it's too late for worrying about that now. The best thing anyone can do is to keep living life to its fullest (I'm still trying to figure out what that means for me).

In the words of Jason Mraz's "Song for a Friend," you have to:

"Climb up over the top.
Survey the state of the soul.
You’ve got to find out for yourself whether or not you’re truly trying.
Why not give it a shot?
Shake it, Take control
And inevitably wind up
Find out for yourself
All the strengths you have inside of you"

So, without further ado, here's my list of New Year's resolutions for 2011 in no particular order:

1. Try to have more patience with my family, especially with my mother.
   
2. Try not to be so sarcastic and too serious. Learn to relax once in a while.
   
3. Continue to work hard and maintain my GPA so that I can graduate college with honors.
   
4. Clean my room, organize my closet, and do chores more often so that the mess doesn't pile up later.
   
5. Keep researching/writing/dreaming/whatever I have to do to get that story written. I have to try not to let my ideas run amok and keep my research, notes, and drafts in order.
   
6. Hang out with my friends more. Seriously, I miss them a lot already.
   
7. Watch as many classics on TCM as I can so that I can be more knowledgeable, appreciative, and critical of movies. Learn what works, what doesn't, and why the things that don't often work get in the way of a film's full potential.
   
8. Read as many books and critical essays as I can, especially when it comes to reading classics and the current bestsellers. I have to be more critical and aware as I read and ask myself more questions. What makes them timeless or bestselling? What makes the characters tick? What do you like or don't like about these books and essays? If you truly didn't like a particular work, how can it be improved? What techniques can you learn from these authors, and which of these techniques worked well? Keep notes for every finding.
   
9. Eat less sweets, less fatty foods. Exercise more often. When the weather gets warmer, go out for a jog at least three times a week. I need to get myself a cheap, lightweight mp3 player so that I can fill it with songs to keep me thinking even as I jog through my neighborhood. Also, I have to buy some new work-out clothes. Baggy sweatpants just make my legs itchy.
   
10. Spend a few minutes perusing articles in science journals, so that I might be more well-versed in how these studies affect my day-to-day life (as well as how they can be helpful to any of my research, current or future projects).
    
11. Always keep an ear open for interesting, creative music from up-and-coming artists. Do not simply settle for the songs currently playing on the radio; though some songs may actually be good, most of the chart-topping songs these days leave a lot to be desired.
    
12. Although I resolve to be more critical of what music I listen to, what movies I watch, and what books I read, it's just as important to try to keep an open mind as well.
    

I hope you succeed in your New Year's resolutions.

A White Christmas & So-called Proper Use of the English Language

The blizzard hit the tri-state area (particularly New York City and the surrounding counties) on the afternoon, evening, and night of December 26th. It left about more than foot of snow in its wake.

People are still trying to shovel their cars out as sanitation workers try to plow through the streets to clear the way for passing traffic. I feel bad for those who are trying to get home but are stuck at train stations, bus stops, and airports, stranded until the rails, roads, and runways are safe enough for travel. As much as I love the snow and snow days, it's pretty rough if you're traveling and need to be someplace at a specific time. My mother didn't even go to work yesterday because the MTA advised that people stay at home as much as possible (some train lines were either delayed or not running at all because of the snow pile-ups and signal problems).

As I listened to the news last night, this has been one of the five biggest blizzards to hit New York City, this one being the second blizzard in 2010 (the first blizzard was in February 2010). It's nice to stay at home and not have to worry about going out, although some people have taken advantage of the abundant snow and had some fun sledding in Central Park, building snow-people, and making snow angels. It's kind of a shame that most of that snow, once they're all either shoveled away or melted away, will become dirtied with... Well, let's just call it yellow and brown snow, shall we? ;)

Sony NWZ-S545

Anyway, my Christmas was pretty nice. My family and I went to church three days in a row (my mom and I sing in the choir while my two younger sisters altar-serve) for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day (which was a Saturday this year), and for the regular Sunday Mass on the 26th. At midnight on Christmas Eve, we ate honeyed ham and queso de bola (Edam cheese) with sweet Filipino bread (called "pan de sal," which I find pretty odd, since it's not actually salty), as well as fruit salad and chocolate chip cookies for dessert.

Then after eating our midnight Christmas Eve meal, we opened our presents. I'd been wondering whether I would receive the mp3 player I've been wanting (okay, settling for, really. It's the Sony NWZ-S545, pictured on the right, and it actually had some pretty decent reviews by music-loving consumers) because I've worked so hard to maintain my 3.8 GPA and to get into Psi Chi.

Guess what I got instead as a pleasant surprise because I wasn't actually counting on it? (I've been asking my parents to get me one for YEARS).

Click here to see it. (I promise, you won't get spam or shitty pop-ups.)

OH, YEAHHHH...

My sister and I got the 8 GB version. We smiled and rejoiced once we unwrapped our presents. We're learning how to use the program/music manager for our devices, little by little. We were able to put our favorite songs. Now, we're actually trying to be more helpful with chores around the house so that we might deserve more awesome gifts in the future. (This behavioral reinforcement that my mother came up with sure is working!)

Right now, my device is charging on my computer as I'm blogging this post. :)

There's really no smooth transition into the following topic, so uh, here it is: another thing that's crossed my mind today...

I was browsing through Youtube for the song "We're On Top of the World" by the Juliana Theory when I came across this particular comment:

"nice to hear that i remember this song from that movie too but please work on your grammer and spelling."

What's wrong with the above comment? The user who wrote that particular comment was just as guilty of breaking rules of grammar and spelling (note that it's supposed to be spelled as "GRAMMAR" and not "GRAMMER"). Also, the lack of punctuation just makes the comment more difficult to read.

CORRECTION: "It's nice to hear that. I remember this song from that movie, too, but please work on your grammar and spelling."

Sorry, I just have a thing for calling people out on their BS, especially when the person in question (whoever that Youtube user is) just unwittingly portrayed him or herself as a hypocrite when it comes to "proper" grammar, spelling, syntax, and punctuation. Sure, that comment was left on Youtube and was not meant to be included in an academic thesis. It should, however, behoove people to at least try to write or type "properly" over the Internet.

This is not to say that I myself always write or type using "proper" grammar, spelling, syntax, and punctuation. I know that I don't always adhere to the rules. I'm a human being, after all, and just as prone to errors as the next human being. I do, however, try to adhere to the rules of proper use of the English language even when I send someone a text message using my non-full-keyboard cell phone. It's just easier that way. Also, I don't want to fall into the lapse of "chatspeak." I refuse to do so, although the most I'll ever engage in chat-speak is to occasionally type "LOL" or "LMAO" if I happen to find something particularly funny or if the comment calls for a light-hearted chuckle.

I'm all for experimental types of writing in fiction and creative writing (e.e. cummings has some lovely and whimsical poems), but you should know the rules and learn to apply them in the proper manner before you can actually break them.

The Verdict on this Blog and Moving (Leisurely) Ahead

Okay, so I know that in my last update, I said that I wanted to create a new blog site with a somewhat different ambiance/tone from this one.

I decided not to go through with it, so I'm staying here for the time being. Blame it on my laziness, which suddenly sprang up and took hold of me as I clicked through countless photography and artwork as possible backgrounds for the other blog I wanted to create. Add that to my frustration with trying to re-size the images so that they can fit as a full-image background, and you've got yourself a defeated blogger.

So yes, I am staying here on "A Muse Sings." After having spent about two years on this particular blog, I think I rather like it here. I may tinker with the layout once in a while, though. While I do love my current layout and background, I also want to experiment with some things. Call it web-design practice for when I finally make it as a published author and need my own website to promote my works and keep in touch with (hopefully) readers.

For now, things will just relatively remain the same, although I did update the icon slide show to include some icons of my favorite SyFy show called "Warehouse 13." It's about two U.S. Secret Service agents named Pete Lattimer and Myka Bering who must retrieve paranormally-charged artifacts and bring them back for safe and highly confidential storage at the warehouse, which is run by Artie Nelson (pretty much the manager of Warehouse 13) and Mrs. Frederick (she's the official owner/caretaker). There's also Leena, a psychic who owns the bed-and-breakfast close to the warehouse where they all live and also Claudia Donovan (my favorite character, played by Allison Scagliotti) the teenage tech whiz who was once able to hack into the warehouses' secure database and now works as a warehouse employee maintaining the many machines and gadgets used to efficiently run the warehouse. I'm a slightly more than a little obsessed with "Warehouse 13," as you can tell from reading this (and if you spotted the redhead in my profile picture, that's Claudia Donovan). But hey, I'm proud to be a geek girl.

Speaking of which (being a geek girl), I just found out this morning that I finally got that "A" that I've been striving for during this past semester in my Experimental Social Psychology class. So maybe I really am cut out to be a scientist/researcher in psychology after all.

For now, I'm going to take it easy and (as usual) try to get some more writing done.

The Close of Fall 2010 and the Start (Maybe?) of a New Blog

I finally finished everything I needed to do to try and pass my classes for this past semester and I celebrated the end of the semester with a friend by eating at a restaurant called "Cabana" which served some yummy empanadas and churrasco with black beans and rice. So the semester ended on a very good note. :)

I haven't gotten much novel-writing done, but I have been editing like crazy during my spare time. Things are getting along pretty well so far. It could be better, but I'm not about to start complaining here. I got into Psi Chi, the honor society for Psychology, I got a bunch of A's on the essays I've written for my classes, and I'm planning to write an article for my college's psychology student newsletter for next semester as well as maybe intern at a non-profit organization for people with developmental disabilities. I don't know if I'm going to be able to squeeze in more writing time between then and now, but I can certainly try.

This may be a little off track, but is it weird that I want to start a new blog? Me and my itch to web-design, hehe.

Anyway, if I do decide to create a new blog and if you actually enjoy some (if not all, haha) of my posts, then please stay tuned. If I decide to make a new blog site, then I'll update and share the link. If not, then feel free to keep on reading my crap on this site. ;)

One of the reasons I was considering the change is because I feel absolutely embarrassed to know that I've authored some pretty weird/random/fan girl posts. You probably thought I was nuts when I (perhaps unfairly) expressed my frustration with my body image and directed it at actresses like Megan Fox. In which case, you were probably right. It was silly of me to do so, I'll venture to say. But DAMN, did getting those feelings out feel good at the time. Vent posts are, after all, vent posts. Still, I sounded a little immature in those posts, and the same goes for my Twilight-hating posts. Don't get me wrong, though. Despite being a fan of the series when I was still in high school (alas, I was one of those delusional hopeless romantics when I was a teenager), I pretty much take into consideration the series as a whole and just shake my head at it. There are so many things wrong with it, like glorifying suicide as the ultimate expression of "true love" (New Moon) and letting some pretentious moron get in the way of you seeing your friends to the point where he vandalizes your car to prevent you from driving out to visit your friends (Eclipse). Don't even get me started on glorifying physical and sexual abuse (does the phrase "pillow-biting" ring any bells?)  and how the author of the series ruined initially good characters by forcing them into pedophilia (Breaking Dawn). Instead of poking fun at the series for the sheer "lulz" factor, I wish I had written a more academic kind of post where I could have critically analyzed the series in much the same way I would critically analyze any work of literature for any of my English classes.

Anyway, I suppose that after writing all of that, I just want a change in the tone of the blog. I want it to be about taking a step back and critically analyzing works of literature, television shows, movies, current events, whatever. I tried to do that with this particular blog, but I'm not sure that I'm doing that well enough.

I'm also kind of embarrassed about those posts in which my friends and I did some crazy and stupid things. It's not so much the crazy and stupid things themselves that I'm embarrassed about as it is the way that I wrote these posts like I was sniffing fruity-scented markers at the time I wrote those posts. I've come a long way (and still have a long way to go) as a writer.

That's what I want my blog posts to be like -- pieces with which I can hone my writing skills as well as my skills in critical thinking, research, and logic. I also need to figure out a way to systematically organize my posts (through tags) so that they're not all over the place and just long rambles (although rambling in and of itself may not necessarily be pointless if you actually do have a point to make after the entire rambling).

Plus, I figure that it would be a good way to start of the new year -- with a new blog and (hopefully) a refreshed perspective.

In any case, I'll update and let you know what I ultimately decide to do, and if I do decide to create a new blog, I'll include the link in the next post. If you've actually been reading my posts, I thank you and I hope that you continue to do so. Drop me a line anytime; I'm always welcoming of comments.

Also, for your blogging enjoyment, here is a chart concerning "The Evolution of the Blogger."

Something That Should Be Addressed:

Have you ever noticed - perhaps on social networking sites, on television, in films, or perhaps you may have had personal experience - that people, especially young girls, call each other "slut" or "hoe" or "whore" or something extremely degrading and disrespectful, even in a joking manner to their friends, and then shrug the whole thing off like it was nothing?

I get extremely annoyed whenever I see it happening.

The whole virgin/whore dichotomy perpetuates the misconception that females are the ones to blame for rape or any other kind of sexual harassment/abuse, instead of assigning the blame on the one who actually carried out the harassment/abuse. It works the other way around, too, like when you call a guy a "pussy" or a "fag" or overtly reference genital parts for the sake of stupid jokes. It's not funny. It's offensive, disrespectful, and immature.

So if you've done something like this in the past, please get over your giggle-fits over mindless sex jokes and have some self-respect for yourself and your friends. Grow up and think before you blurt things out, lest people get the impression (even on Facebook) that you're an insufferable airhead who spews sexist slurs against others.

/endrant

Poetry: the Worthwhile Struggle of Tangled Words and Images

It's been 5 hours since I've agonized over the introductory paragraph to my paper for my Asian American Women Writers class. I know what I want to write, but the words keep getting tangled up in my mind. Caffeine at 1AM probably wasn't such a good idea, especially if you're writing an essay on strictly defining what's personal and what's political within a particular poem. In the end, the poem is always the function of the personal intersecting with the political. If I made your head ache with this ramble, you can probably get a gist of why it's been bothering me (in which case, I should say I'm sorry?). On the other hand, difficult poems are worth every circle of confusion and wonder.

There's more to poetry than just the appeal of seducing your readers' senses with images of how your “love is an anger is a fire.” You pen these images, but what does that line truly mean? It all comes down to context; a verse constructed with the sole purpose of posing as “deep” and “sophisticated” to others often has the tendency to alarm other people’s bullshit meters. 

If, however, you truly have something more to say beneath the layer of the written text on the page, and if you have sought nuances with syntax and dared to shatter the patterns of cliché with your wit as the scalpel, then perhaps you have penned something worthwhile. A poem should not be the purveyor of pleasure and comfort, but rather the riddle with the persistent aftertaste that confounds and astounds your audience after they’ve eaten your words. An analysis of the poem should not be the regurgitation of its surface content, but rather the hiccup or the burp that subsides after hours of digestion. Poetry is not sexy, nor is it the culmination of praises that leave a lover’s lips, nor the contrived messages of greeting cards expressing exaltations of friendships or the sorry of condolences. Poetry could take one of these forms, but these are not always the case, nor do these forms always convey any real substance or meaning in their messages. If you have always presumed that poetry is a few lines of rhymes with a pretty message inside, then you are sadly mistaken. Poetry is the struggle that may or may not offer the resolution, for it is up to you, the reader, to either question it or find it.

Sometimes, the worthwhile poem is the one that sucks you into that cold whirlpool of confusion, dousing you with more questions than answers. To truly obtain meaning, you have to get lost in order to find yourself. Try reading “Tradition” by Quan Barry or “The State Will Be Served Even By My Hand On These Letters” by Sun Young Shin if you don't believe me.

Procrastination, Psi Chi, and Penning Criticisms

So I'm back. Sort of. I just thought that I should update since I haven't written anything on here for a long time. School, stress, and tiredness are the three culprits that deter me from blogging. I wish I was more prolific with writing more blog posts, and I wish that these posts were more inspiring or more thought-provoking.

I've written some pretty good essays for my classes this semester, though. I'm actually surprised that I was able to score some really good marks on them. Procrastination has always been a friend of mine, and he always pushes me to write my essay assignments at the last possible hour. It's obviously not a very good way to go. Up to now, I still haven't learned how to successfully manage my time. I usually just shut my eyes and cross my fingers when I hand in something and hope for the best, even when the effort I put into each paper wasn't always my best. What you give is what you get, usually.

On one paper I had to write for personality psychology, for instance, I had received a check-minus. That paper was supposed to explain (from Rentfrow et al., 2006) a model of the geographical distribution of personality traits across U.S. states. It was probably one of my worst-written papers, since I wrote it about three hours before it was due. All I did was summarize the article instead of adding analysis or critique, which was probably the worst thing that anyone could have done on an article review. I'm not trying to excuse my crappy effort in writing that particular paper, but the article was too long and too dry to read, and it was loaded with statistics. I don't know about you, but I only have a basic understanding of statistics. I doubt the average Joe or average Jane would understand the jargon, either.

In any case, some of the other papers I've written for my Islam & Buddhism class, as well as for my Asian-American Women Writers class, turned out pretty well. I'll try to post them here at a later date to share (and if you decide you use them in your own writing, please cite them).

I've also recently conducted an online survey on academic procrastination and Facebook usage for my research project in my experimental social psychology class. I had some trouble yesterday when I was entering the data on SPSS because I wasn't sure how to score the Procrastination Assessment Scale-Students (PASS). (Interesting acronym for the scale, right?) Thank goodness I was able to figure it out. I'm still scratching my head, though. When I tried to run correlations between the degree to which students procrastinated and their desire to decrease these procrastination behaviors, something weird happened with the scatter plots.They ended up looking like a stem-and-leaf plot. I don't know if I ran the analysis wrong in using the wrong measure, but that's what I ended up with. Here's to hoping that my professor won't be too harsh when I present the results to the rest of the class.

Worries aside, at least something good has happened to me recently: I've been accepted into Psi Chi, the International Honor Society for Psychology. It's great to know that all those semesters of studying and hard work have paid off in some way. On December 1st, I'll be an official member of Psi Chi.

Anyway, in other recent events:

I've also been active on Twilightsucks.com. They've moved to a new site, so if you're interested in checking it out, here's the web address. I love reading the topics that they have there regarding issues such as Meyer's erroneous exaltation of her Twilight Saga (it's NOT a saga, people!), Meyer's less-than-savory writing skills, Edward's creepiness, Bella's idiocy and dry narration, the abhorrence of Meyerwolf imprinting, and the nature of what vampires actually are. There's also a bunch of sub-forums for discussing other literary works according to their respective genres (such as Stephen King's works, J.K. Rowling's HP series, Charlotte Bronte, Sarah Dessen, etc.), as well as a series of sub-forums dedicated to sharing and discussing writing tips. If you want to make a club, you can petition to create your own club. If you want to talk about movies (not just the Twilight movies) or television shows, then you can also discuss them in their respective sub-forums. TS is a pretty cool site overall, and its members are also just as enthusiastic and thought-provoking when it comes to discussing and critiquing literature, film, television, music, just about anything, really. You just have to know where to look, read up on the past comments, and join in the conversation. The writing forums, especially, have helped me with my own writing.

I've often found that discussing books that bother you can teach you a whole lot more about writing than books that you've absolutely loved reading. Why? Let's just say that you can often spot the mistakes and the bullshit more quickly with a book that's bothered you than with a book you deem as the quintessential story. Another website that's similar to TS is Reasoning With Vampires. Not only does it provide you with a good laugh about how stupid or disturbing some parts of Twilight are, but the site also points out the ineffectiveness of Meyer's grammar and diction. Good things to know when you're crafting your own stories.

I enjoyed these particular posts from Reasoning With Vampires the most:

Finally, there's this:

I hope you learned a few things and enjoyed these tidbits, which were brought to you by Reasoning With Vampires.

Abandon

Meg Cabot's retelling of the myth of Persephone, in her new series "Abandon," seems pretty interesting. I just hope it's not as formulaic and has twists that could surprise me, possibly something as enjoyable as "The Mediator" series and the "1-800-Where-R-U" series.

For instance, in "Avalon High" (the novel, not the mangas)... the entire time I was wondering why the story surrounded Ellie, the protagonist, when she didn't seem to have a solid connection to the original characters in Sir Malory's version of the Arthurian legend. Boy, was I wrong. In a good way, that is. On the other hand, I'm not so crazy about that Disney adaptation of the book.

Anyway, getting back to "Abandon": I also hope that the female lead in "Abandon," Pierce (Persephone), won't be a weak heroine, as in the Greek myth. She better put up a fight when John Hayden (who is obviously Hades) tries to kidnap her and force her into a romantic relationship with him. I really don't like it when the heroine just blindly accepts the events happening around her without at least questioning why it's happening, and I absolutely hate it when she gives up everything in the name of TWU WUV, even if the supposed hero is a walking douche bag. As you can already tell, I'm not a big fan of those kinds of Harlequin-ish happy endings. So, having said that, here's to hoping that the story might actually be good. If the first book turns out to be all right, consider me persuaded to tag along for the rest of the ride.

If you want to check it out for yourself, here is the page for "Abandon" on Meg's website.
http://www.megcabot.com/abandon/index.php
 

Wasted

My skepticism has grown.

I've never really been a prayerful person, and I don't necessarily agree with everything that my religion teaches. Does that make me any less of a Catholic or any less of a Christian?

Are we not taught to question things and keep an open-mind? If so, then why do we define things according to what God says? Who are we to know what God intended? Who are we impose these judgments on others, simply to justify our discomfort with that which is different?

We do not have that right because we're only human. Being "human" is a broad spectrum; we're all effed up in one way or another, so to point fingers and point guns.... it's all a waste. If we continue to cling to our prejudices and our narrowed views of the world, then I'm afraid our lives are wasted.

There is something out there (Holy Spirit, Tathagata-garbha, Kundalini, Tao, etc.) that is also intrinsic to human nature, which makes us want to end the unpleasantness of life - not just the unpleasantness in our lives, but also the unpleasantness in the lives of others.

I don't mean to sound preachy here, but it's just something that's been on my mind lately. I just want people to be willing to give others a chance, to be open to ideas that may contrast vastly from their own, and hopefully reach a greater understanding from suppressing prejudices.

Unfortunately, a prejudice-free world like that would work better in a John Lennon song.

Defending B.o.B.'s "Airplanes" and Searching for Creativity

I was scrolling through the newsfeed on Facebook this morning when I saw that one of my friends had posted a link to some guy on Youtube ranting about how the song "Airplanes" by B.o.B. featuring Hayley Williams of Paramore annoyed him. His main complaint is the song's overwhelming popularity, and he tries to deconstruct the lyrics to point out how "annoying" and "stupid" it is to wish upon an airplane. He made me laugh a little, but he looked like he was being overly dramatic.

I responded to the link on Facebook, and it actually turned out to be quite lengthy. I decided to re-post the Youtube link here, along with my thoughts on the matter:





I happen to really like that song! I agree with this guy... but only on the point that yes, the song is pretty much everywhere. I'm going to try to defend B.o.B. here because the song struck a chord with me.

The only reason why someone would want to pretend an airplane is a shooting star is because they've hit rock bottom. B.o.B. (before his fame and success) felt hopeless that his dream of becoming a music artist would never be realized. He was so depressed and disillusioned that yes, he wanted to make a wish on a shooting star. But since he couldn't see the stars in the night sky because he lived in the city, and the only things he could actually see in the night sky are the tail-lights of aircrafts, B.o.B. was so far gone in his despair that he wished on an airplane.

It may sound stupid, but I assure you, there's more to it than that.

And I guess that figuratively speaking, the airplane represents B.o.B.'s desire to escape from his struggles and his self-doubt. He felt that he could never have that ticket to success, and he found that because his dreams are so out of his reach, it's next to impossible. So yes, it's silly to make a wish on a boeing 747 because that wish will never come true. You could also say that it's stupid to make a wish on an actual shooting star because that never actually produces results. Or that it's stupid for someone to pray to a higher power, despite the lack of evidence that said higher power actually does exist.

But people wish and pray anyway because they feel as if their lives are out of their hands. It may seem childish, illogical, and futile to think that these wishes and prayers actually stand a chance at coming true, but people do it anyway. These behaviors -- wishing and praying -- usually reinforce other behaviors that increase the likelihood of attaining the desired goals (such as persistently submitting demos to a record company or writing query letters to literary agents in the hopes of getting discovered, despite the high probability of ending up in the slush pile).

People may relate to the song because it expresses the feeling of longing. Everyone's longed for something that they felt was impossible to attain, especially if that something is an unrealized dream to become someone who's successful in all of his or her creative endeavors. B.o.B.'s "Airplanes" was written on such a personal level that it's almost as if you're B.o.B. himself, trying to get the music producers and influential people in the music industry to give his songs just one little listen, but feeling invisible and rejected in spite of all his efforts. It stings when you've come so close to achieving your goal, but the opportunity just never turned out the results you were aiming for. And now that he's a success, B.o.B. is thankful to have finally achieved his dream. All those struggles made him the man that he is today.

Some people get so annoyed with something that infiltrates their everyday lives that they vent about their frustrations. That's fine -- everyone's entitled to the freedom of expression. The problem, however, is that people often vent about something without looking at the big picture. This person in the Youtube video, for instance, poked fun at this song and took it so literally that his belittlement of the chorus destroyed any meaning the author meant to convey. If the person in the video didn't like the song, then that's okay because that's his opinion. However, because this person took the lyrics so literally, it becomes obvious to anyone watching this video that he only took the chorus at face value and didn't at least try to dig deeper to uncover any merit that the song might still possibly hold. I can't take his opinion that seriously because he sounds like he's never actually thought the song through, and his outright refusal to at least consider the possibility that someone else might appreciate the song shows that he's biased and not open to views that may differ from his own.

Being annoyed with the song's popularity and its overwhelming salience in pop culture is one thing, but mindlessly poking fun at it without critically thinking about the possible merit and substance (in terms of figurative language, tone, and the overall meaning, etc.) that the song might actually contain is something else altogether. If the song actually lacked substance and meaning, then I would probably hold the same opinion as the person in the Youtube video. However, since there is some meaning and relatability that I can derive from the lyrics of the song, I can appreciate B.o.B.'s efforts as a recording artist. I find that he's really quite talented because of his willingness to share that personal part of his life in a song. That takes guts. For someone to just simply scrape across the surface of the chorus for the sake of belittling B.o.B.'s experiences without at least thinking about the overall meaning of the song is immature. Sorry if it sounds like I'm ranting, but I really think that the guy in that video missed the point completely.

Now if there's one song out there that annoys the freaking hell out of me, it's Usher's "OMG." I don't appreciate a song that contains gratuitous hate and excessive cussing, or a song that obnoxiously objectifies a woman's body as if the totality of a woman's worth is solely determined by men who substitute their brains with their scrotums. Usher's "OMG," in my opinion, falls under the latter category.

Just look at some of the verses in the lyrics:

"I fell in love with shawty when I seen her on the dance floor
She was dancing sexy, pop, pop, popping, dropping, dropping low
Never ever has a lady hit me on the first sight
This was something special; this was just like dynamite
Honey got a booty like pow, pow, pow
Honey got some boobies like wow, oh, wow
Girl, you know I'm lovin' your, lovin' your style...

...Fell in love with honey like my, oh, my
Honey looking wonderful; fly, so fly
Honey like a supermodel; my, oh, my
Baby, how you do that, make a grown man cry?"

Lust in and of itself is not love. If anything, the lyrics of "OMG" suggest lust at first sight, and it's obvious that the guy in the song was so at a loss for words because he's thinking with another body part rather than his brain. Is a woman only deserving of love if she's got the figure of a supermodel? Way to sound like a superficial caveman.

If a guy walks up to you and says any of those lines, you would think he's a total creep who feels as if he's entitled to sex just because he tried to flatter you with how much he thinks you're sexy. It's actually insulting if you think about it -- whether he intended it or not, he's insinuating that the only thing he cares about is getting into your pants, and he doesn't even pretend to like you for your personality. Because anything that has boobs and a butt that happens to be dancing right in front of him is the only thing that warrants his attention. And I'm sure that yes, the emotions that the guy is feeling must be like dynamite... because his efforts of schmoozing any self-respecting woman with his shitty attempt at flattery is sure to blow up right in his face.

So why are songs like "OMG" among the chart-topping songs of 2010? Simple: sex sells.

There is no substance in Usher's "OMG" -- nothing that even remotely qualifies as having depth or creativity with the use of figurative language. Instead, we get a mindless repetition of some horny creep's sexist and unimaginative wet dream. The redundancy and the uninspired diction of the lyrics grate at me so much that they make my ears bleed.

The lyrics of "Butterfly" by Jason Mraz and "Nothin On You" by B.o.B. have more creativity and meaning than "OMG" will ever have. The lyrics of these songs actually sound somewhat poetic, if you consider the diction, syntax, and use of figurative language to create imagery. Usher's "OMG" fails to use any of these. Don't get me wrong. I like some of Usher's other songs -- "Confessions Pt. 2," "Burn," and "My Boo," to name a few. But his latest singles, which have a more club-like ambiance to them, fail to impress me. They sound way too contrived.

A song doesn't need to hold a deep and profound meaning for me to appreciate or like it, but it should have something in the lyrics that shows that the artist or songwriter behind the song made a sincere effort at aiming for creativity.

Hoping and Hitting My Head Against the Wall

Well, it's been a while -- about a month -- since I last updated. Time moved on, and I didn't really notice how much closer the days were getting to the start of the new Fall semester. I'm starting classes again on the 26th, so the cycle of mindless morning routines and procrastination begins again. At least it won't be so bad. I've got two days off during the week, so maybe I can use some of that time to watch the TV shows that I'm going to have to DVR throughout the semester. I hope I can also use my free days to grab a cup of coffee with some friends that I haven't seen in a long time.

I still feel sort of guilty over not having spent time with some of my high school buddies this summer, since I'm either usually swamped with chores or my mother just won't let me go out at night. This semester I've really got to get started on planning for grad school and applying for internships. I haven't the slightest idea how to properly create a resume, since I've never actually had a job before. I mean, there was that one internship I had at the Queens district attorney's office about four years ago, but I was only there for a couple of weeks before my junior year of high school. I haven't had any other internships or work experiences since then. Unless you count the times when my mother asked me to type up her paperwork for her or the times when my dad asked me to e-mail some documents to one of his clients. I just... I don't know.

I don't know what to put on my resume.

That scares me. I'm never afraid to write an essay, or to submit my poems to a school literary magazine, or to post my thoughts to the Internet for the world to read. What I'm most afraid to write is my own resume. The main problem is that I don't think I have anything really worthwhile to put down.

Sure, there's that internship from four years ago. And the fact that I've taken leadership roles in the International Order of the Rainbow for Girls for the past couple of years. But I don't know what else I should put down, since I've had no job experience whatsoever. People look at me like I'm a gorgon or something whenever I even mention Rainbow, and they continue to do so even after I try explaining to them that it's a Masonic youth organization that shows girls how to be leaders in their communities and raise money and awareness for charities. Whenever that happens, I start to wonder if I'm even making sense anymore.

You're probably reading this right now, thinking that I'm sweating over nothing. You're right. I need to get over this ridiculous anxiety.

But then I get to thinking that maybe I have some sort of fear of growing up. The quick passage of time freaks me out. It's not that I'm afraid of getting older -- I'm not vain. It's more of the idea of stepping up to shoulder the burden of real-world responsibilties, like getting a job, paying for my grad school tuition, helping pay for my sister's undergrad tuition, moving out when I'm finally stable on my own feet. I just wish that the days would go by slightly slower so that I can take a breath as I keep track of everything going on in my life.

I'm two decades old already, and I have no idea what to do with the rest of my life besides write my stories. That novel I've been working on is nowhere even close to half-way done. That was actually my goal at the beginning of the summer: to get to the half-way mark by mid-August. But instead, what did I do?

Edit like crazy and write myself into corners. I'm still trying to crawl my way out of the plot holes and fill them in with more substance by coming up with ways I can torture my whiny protagonist. I noticed that I get super cranky when I have the burning itch to write but can't produce the results that I want. Writer's block isn't the problem. It's trying to find a clear and strong way to put all my ideas into words -- but never actually finding it -- that makes me want to hit my head against the wall.

With all the upcoming stress from the new semester, I just hope I can still hold on to a thread of tranquility. Good luck to anyone else who might need it. I sure as hell need all the luck I can get.

P.S. I'll try to post a review of Wuthering Heights next time. (SPOILER ALERT!: Is it bad that I only actually started liking the story after Catherine died?)

P.P.S. My family and I are kind of -- well, okay, very -- obsessed with the dramas on TFC (the Filipino Channel). We've been watching TFC all summer. One thing I've noticed -- WHAT IS THE OBSESSION WITH WHITENESS? I mean, really. Is it so bad to have a dark complexion? Why should one's complexion matter when it comes to judging a person? More on this in another post.

Another Twilight-ish Cover? This Time on Jane Eyre? WTF?!

We are told time and again not to judge a book by its cover.

But we hardly listen anyway.

Let's face it -- we are visual creatures. For the majority of us, the gift of seeing is so centric to our experiences that we would hate to be blind. It's why we make movie adaptations of books or make scrapbooks and photo albums. Just take into account the English language and the way we often substitute the word understand with see. Behold the following example:

"I don't understand the point of creating Twilight-inspired covers for classic literature when these covers have absolutely no relevance to the actual stories."

"I don't see the point of creating Twilight-inspired covers for classic literature when these covers have absolutely no relevance to the actual stories."

See what I mean? (Harr, harr.) The message is essentially the same.

So if we are to follow this logic, it would make sense that the first impression we get of a book is the way that the book's cover is visually presented to us.

I'm incredibly chagrined right now (yes, chagrined... a word in the English language that's been overly abused by SMeyer throughout the Twilight Saga. Hope she doesn't commit the same crime again in her other books). We all know the cover designs of SMeyer's books with the red, white, and black color motifs. In a previous post, I remarked on how annoyed I was that there is a Twilight-ish cover for Wuthering Heights. There are other classics that have fallen victim to this trend, such as Romeo & Juliet and Pride & Prejudice.

Just look at these covers:

Now I'm flipping annoyed at the brilliant morons responsible for trying to market Jane Eyre as THIS:

It has nothing to do with flowers, especially not red flowers. Ditto with the red lips and the red nail polish, and the eerie albino-ish skin. Don't get me wrong. I like this cover -- very much. There's something alluring about the contrasting vividness between red and white. It's pretty. I think this cover might work if the book was some kind of retelling of Snow White. That would be interesting then, to think about the story and how it relates to the cover insofar as symbolism is concerned.

But for a story like Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre?

It is, quite simply, a travesty.

It's like trying to market dangerously seductive blood-drinking demons when there really aren't any to be found in the book (sound familiar?). That would be false advertising.

And okay, I'm sure there's the argument that I should take a chill pill because these are fictional works I'm talking about, not some newfangled miracle drug that is really an epic failure in disguise. I get that there are plot twists that could surprise us, and could even possibly change our whole perspective on a particular thing (like impressionable tweens changing their  perceptions of antiquated bloodsucking ghouls as being the ideal soul mate). That's fine, really, because it's fiction. You're allowed to imagine what you want to imagine, so long as you are mentally stable enough to recognize the fine line separating your reveries from the reality of your situation.

None of the female characters in Jane Eyre even remotely resemble the anonymous woman on the cover. Not even the pretty Blanche Ingram (the woman that Jane was jealous of), who was described as having a lovely olive complexion. Bertha Mason was described as being of Creole descent, so I highly doubt that she'd look chalk white. Jane Eyre herself was plain governess (hence the term "Plain Jane") and had simple tastes, so she can't be the woman on the cover. Besides, what would a governess in the 19th century -- who refused to buy or wear purple and pink silk dresses that Rochester picked out for her -- be doing wearing bright red lipstick and crimson nail polish?

It's nonsense.

And what is the red flower supposed to represent anyway? "Bleeding Love," as Leona Lewis would call it?

I don't think so.

Jane certainly isn't as fragile or delicate as a flower, I'll tell you that. She's more like Tsuchi Makino (the protagonist in the Japanese manga/anime/drama "Boys Over Flowers"), whose name means weed. And no, I am not speaking of cannibis here. Rather, no matter how much you try to pull out a weed with your bare hands, it's still there. Persisting. Growing. Flourishing. The weed knows where its roots are and clings to the soil that it's known for so long, just as Jane (and Tsuchi Makino) knows her true self and clings steadfastly to her morality and beliefs despite the adversity she endures. Jane is determined as she is passionate.

Okay. Maybe red is supposed to represent passion, such as the passion that Jane and Edward Rochester feel for each other. (If you ask me, Rochester loses himself to passion way too many times to be called rational, given the nature of his misdeeds and his temperament).

Is their love supposed to be represented by the flower? The freakishly white lady on the cover looks like she's giving the flower as a gift, offering it to someone the way she would give them her heart (metaphorically speaking).

On the other hand, I still maintain that flowers represent fragility -- flowers easily wilt if not cared properly, they lose their petals, they can get crushed or shrivel up and die, etc. Just analyze Ophelia and her behavior during her madness speech just before she drowned herself in Shakespeare's "Hamlet," if you're still not convinced.

But I think that Jane and Rochester's love is stronger than that, so much so that they both hallucinated -- hearing each other call out the other's name -- on the same night (freaky coincidence or not?). And despite his misdeeds, Edward Rochester learns his lesson. Jane all the more loves him for it, and loves him even more despite his disfigurement. Meanwhile, Rochester loves Jane for her determination, her fierce loyalty, her honesty, and her sense of individuality. They're both not what most people consider physically attractive, but they have qualities that transcend outer beauty. If that's not true love, I don't know what is.

While we're on the subject of true love, riddle me this: Why do Bella and Edward love each other?

I still don't get that, aside from that Bella smells like flowers and Edward is nothing more than a sparkly, hard (double entendre totally intended, hehe) statue. That's lust, really.

I actually feel cheated, having read the series and the first book twice, that I cannot find any substantial evidence (specific examples) of this love the two supposedly harbor for each other. Edward strikes me as extremely controlling and psychologically debilitating (what kind of boyfriend, praytell, tampers with his true love's truck in order to keep her away from people he does not approve of?), whereas Bella (even though she sometimes rebels) lets him perpetually screw with her mind and whines about how craptastic her life is without her vampire lover. Sure, Edward can't read her mind. But he sure knows how to manipulate someone into following his orders (as in "No, you cannot see Jacob, Bella. I am perfectly capable of holding back my affections from you if you see that guy again. No more make-out sessions, and certainly no sexing until we are married!"). I don't know if Edward is really protecting his "virtue" (saying that he has a "virtue" is kind of debatable, given that I'm accusing him of manipulation). But I commend him for his abstinance views and his belief that sex is the ultimate expression of love. HOWEVER, Edward knew how much Bella was crazy for him and would pretty much do anything to get into his pants. So he traps her into marrying him. Even though she doesn't ever want to get married, given the backstory about her mother marrying straight out of high school and getting pregant (which happens to Bella later on, of course). That, to me, is manipulation at its finest. It's no better than tricking a guy into marrying you because you're pregnant, even though he doesn't love you and he's only doing what he thinks is the right thing.

So if anyone has any insight into why SMeyer's power couple love each other, please enlighten me and cite specific examples. There's nothing more annoying than a Twihard who types in chatspeak and treats the books as if they're the absolute word of God: "B3cuz d3y jusz do, okz?! N if u cnt ex3pt dat, ur jusz jeloz of bellz cusz sh3 got a hot vamp boyfr3n dat spaklz in deh sun n U DUNTZ! TRU LUV RULZ!"

How the heck can anyone take the above statement seriously?

Anyway, the point that I'm trying to make here is that we should strive to keep the integrity of well-loved classics alive. If a publishing company wants to release a new and updated edition of an old classic by changing the cover, then the cover design should at least have a degree of relevance to the heart of the story. Covers shouldn't be there to simply "prettify" the work of literature any more than the use of purple prose to "prettify" one's shitty writing. Covers should complement the written text in some way, and they should serve to supplement our understanding of a story.

Twihard tweens and Twihard moms might not mind buying this particular edition of Jane Eyre, because it reminds them so much of their favorite saga, even though the cover design has nothing to do with the story whatsoever. Sure, literacy rates have probably increased because people are rabidly gobbling up the Twilight Saga and the overly obsessed will want to buy anything that remotely reminds them of the series without blinking twice.

But that doesn't mean good literature should be sucked of its soul (pun totally intended).

This spoils the beloved classic for the rest of us who don't give a bat's guano over Edward's veggie vamp sparkle powers -- we're not that gullible. It is an insult to assume that consumers who buy the new edition (at least those who like to overanalyze what they read, like me) will overlook the significance of the cover art.

Because I do judge a book by its cover. I may not judge the cover when I first see the book, and the cover may not be the reason I purchase a book, but I do judge it. After reading a book, I think about the imagery and the motifs that pop up throughout the story, and I try to explain the significance of the cover design based on my knowledge and understanding of the story. If a book's cover is irrelevant to the integrity of the story, then consider this blogger one greatly disappointed bookworm.

Um, yeah...

The dreamy guy chewing on his pen up there is Dean Winchester from the tv show Supernatural (played by Jensen Ackles).

Sorry, I couldn't resist posting it. :D Found it in someone's signature on this particular forum (be forewarned: you can get lost reading up on the posted topics for hours).

I haven't really kept up with that show since the episode where Sam and Dean found their father (I forgot which season). Life got in the way and from then on, I gave up on trying to catch up because there were too many episodes and not enough time for me to watch them all. But I still sort of wish I kept on watching.

This was just an impulsive post, so... um, yeah. ;)

More later.

Aiming for the 'Rock of Hope' When You're Stuck in the 'Reservoir of Go the Hell Home'

Yes. You read the title correctly.

"About 200 yards ahead, to your left, is a huge boulder. That's where you want to be. That's what us folks here at Delacorte theater call the 'Rock of Hope.' But where we are right now, where you guys are on the line -- you're in the 'Reservoir of Go the Hell Home.' "

That's what the cute John Krasinski look-a-like staff member at Delacorte Theatre said to us and to all the others at the back of the line hoping to score free tickets to Shakespeare in the Park's production of "The Merchant of Venice," starring Al Pacino as the moneylending Shylock.

The boulder was nowhere in sight (at least from where we were standing), so we were stuck in the "Reservoir of Go the Hell Home" and had absolutely no chance of getting those tickets. This reminded me so much of last year, when a few friends and I tried to watch "Twelfth Night" with Anne Hathaway cast as Viola of Messaline. The same guy kept telling us that we wouldn't be able to get tickets from that far back in the line (he was right). And yes, just like last year, people camped out in the middle of the wee early morning hours just to see a big-name actor perform in a free play in Central Park.

Mr. Pacino, why'd you have to be so legendary and iconic The Godfather and in Scarface?

Oh, well. The month's not over yet, so at least there might still be a chance.

We (Amy, Liliana, Liliana's sister, and I) decided to leave the line and GTFO. But we decided not to waste the day, so we sat in the grass for a while and just talked, catching up here and there on each other's lives and wishing that we could all study/vacation abroad. We didn't exactly have a Plan B, but thank goodness I always carry the Cool Pass (free admission for up to 5 people to almost any museum in NYC) with me, so we could spend the day trying to be productive.

We walked all the way to Whole Foods from 86th to 60th on the West Side (not as tiring as it sounds, trust me) and ate lunch there. We browsed a couple of stores afterwards. The conversation (thanks to Amy, hehe) kept bouncing back and forth between clothes and food (mostly food). Especially sushi, buffalo wings, and Jamba Juice. Even after we ate our lunch, the cookbooks at Borders just added more to our passion for food and encouraged us to at least try to have a well-balanced and healthy diet. I'm not so sure I could do without my cheese puffs addiction so soon. Baby steps, I guess.

I bought a book, too. Not a cookbook, but a rather funny retelling of 'Sleeping Beauty' that involves some sort of time traveling or dimension jumping or something like that. I have yet to read it, so I can't really say what's going on between the pages. But it sounds refreshing, and I'll try to give it a review later in another post.

We walked back up to 82nd, to the American Museum of Natural History, where we met up with my sister and got in with the Cool Pass. We strolled through the cultural anthropology exhibits. I never get tired of these exhibits -- even though I've been to that museum way too many times to count, there's always a new angle that comes along with thinking critically about the artifacts on display, especially when you think about perspective. For instance, why do the descriptions for some of the Plains Indian costumes in the Plains Indians exhibit sound like an ignorant and racist historian wrote them? A Wikipedia entry could probably have more substance and objectivity (har, har). 

Although, some of the exhibits (and the descriptions of artifacts within them) weren't that bad.

Still, it always makes you think twice about whether to take something at face value or continue to question it. Critical thinking is a craft that must always continue to be honed. Our brains are muscles, too.

Anyway, the guy at the park was right. He was trying to be funny, but I thought he came up with a pretty neat metaphor. You could apply it to anything, really -- if you're looking for a new job or internship, if you're trying to overcome your fear of bungee jumping, if you're in the process of writing a book, or if you're trying to analyze something and think outside the box.

So don't settle for the Reservoir of Go the Hell Home. Go out and do something that will bring you closer to that Rock of Hope.

It sounds kind of corny, but it could pass off as a decent mantra, couldn't it?

Telenovelas and Rewrites

I'll be honest. I haven't really gotten that far with recapping Wuthering Heights. At this point, I'm not sure I want to continue with it because it's a lot of work. Yes, I am getting very lazy.

But I assure you, there are other reasons.

Like getting totally immersed in watching Filipino telenovelas. My mother decided to try out TFC (The Filipino Channel) from a friend who happened to be a dealer of the network. So we started watching some shows.

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm hooked! So far I've finished watching "Crazy For You," and "My Cheating Heart." I actually started watching "Crazy For You" (a story about overseas Filipino workers who find love in Spain) years ago, on Youtube, but I only got 1/3 into the series because I couldn't find the other episodes online. So I was pretty bummed out about that. Now I sort of wish I didn't finish it because the ending just sucked the life out of me. After investing so much emotional energy in cheering for the lead couple and thoroughly enjoying the comically romantic moments, it ended on such a sad note (one of them died). My sister and I came up with an alternate ending, just to feel less depressed. "My Cheating Heart" (a story about a girl who does everything for her childhood best friend in the hopes of winning his heart) on the other hand, had a much better ending. The tables were turned, and there were so many plot twists that played out really nicely once you got toward the final episode.

My favorite right now, though, is a show called "Lovers In Paris" (based on a Korean drama). Usually, remakes aren't always that great, but in this case, I'll make an exception. Because it's exceptional! It's about this young woman who dreams of becoming a film director and making it big in Paris, who also falls for a rich businessman while working as his maid. I assure you, it's much more than just another Cinderella story. It's so breathtaking, the way the story is told and the complexity of each character, not to mention the awesome chemistry between the characters portrayed by KC Concepcion and Piolo Pascual (he's so dreamy!). I think they're dating in real life (so far as I've heard, hehe). They make a really cute couple. :)

[EDIT: There's a deux ex machina at the very end of the last episode, and while I'm thrilled -- hell, freaking ECSTATIC -- that there's a happy ending for the leading couple, I had to wonder if the screen writer for this telenovela just shot himself/herself in the foot and had to inhale a snuffbox of opium.]

Anyway. Enough about that. ;)

I've also been writing, working on new chapters in that novel I'm working on. So far, I've finished writing two chapters -- I'm currently working on another one while also trying to edit a horribly written chapter filled with purple prose.

What is purple prose? It's when you refer to the thesaurus so often to try to "prettify" your writing, so much so that your sentences end up looking like this:

"One smoky tendril lingered, a fragile wisp shining and reflecting the sun’s rays with a translucent sheen of its own. It relinquished its forceful embrace on my wrist, and almost reluctantly, sailed silently away from my arms. It spiraled delicately upwards, stirring the dust motes in the air, and seemed to dissipate."

I kid you not -- that up there was actually from the draft I've been working on. Horribly wordy, ain't it? I hate it, too. I'm going to have to rewrite that entire chapter, especially because it seems so strange and so out of character coming from my protagonist. She's usually blunt and speaks her mind a lot, so it doesn't make sense that she'd be narrating as if she was reciting poetry.

Besides rewriting that horrible purple prose disaster, I actually referred to the Twilight phenomenon in another chapter. The series goes by a different name (that I made up) in my story, but the idea that it's currently so ingrained in the cultural and social consciousness is still there. I used it to further the plot and to provide some sort of dramatic irony, dropping a certain hint about a certain character. But it still doesn't cross the protagonist's mind. If you're keen enough to find the hint (which I'm pretty sure you are), you'll have no problem figuring out its meaning. Not sure if I'm going to share that part of the book yet because I'm still in the middle of writing it. But if I do decide to share it, I'll keep you posted. ;)

In the meantime, enjoy this song called "Finish Line" by Fanfarlo. It's not on my story soundtrack right now, but I think I'm going to add it. The song makes me feel happy; it has that optimistic feeling to it. That's the feeling that I want to convey once I reach the end of the story. :)

"Finish Line" by Fanfarlo


Until next time, friends!

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me..."

Okay, just as an aside, I took this quiz to see which classic female literary character I most resemble, and this is what I got:

I'm so glad I didn't get Catherine Earnshaw or Scarlet O'Hara!

Anyway, if you would also like to take the quiz, here's the link:
Which Classic Literary Female Character Are You?

Tackling 'Wuthering Heights' -- Chapter 7

I kind of read ahead, past Chapter 7, so I'm going to try to be as brief as possible here.

Cathy didn't come back to Wuthering Heights (I think I'm just going to refer to it as "the Heights" from here on out) until five months later, around Christmastime. She was able to walk again, healed from the dog bite injury on her ankle.

I'm guessing this is sort of where SMeyer also wants us to draw a comparison between Cathy and Bella. Because Cathy had come back, all right. She came back all decked out and purrrrty so everyone fawned over her and admired her for the beauty that she was. Just like all the guys in the Twilight Saga fumble and get all worked up over Bella because of how speshul she is as the New Girl.

If Bella's so plain, why do all the guys think she's so hot and date-worthy, to the point where it's like a competition between them? She doesn't have much of a remarkable personality, really. Her hobbies include scrubbing her dad's house spotless, watching marathons of Romeo and Juliet and wishing she was Juliet, admiring the way Edward sparkles, and of course, riding on Edward's back like some kind of infant monkey.

Well, this looks familiar:

Aww... how cute!

At least Cathy had a penchant for exploration, what with her running around and masterminding (together with Heathcliff) pranks to get old Bible-spewing Joseph cranky. And, Emily wrote that Cathy really was pretty, instead of playing it off as though plainness was a flaw as SMeyer did. So it's logical to think that people admired her greatly for her beauty, and that Edgar Linton and Heathcliff would develop mondo crushes on her.

Though, Bella and Cathy are both bratty in their own respective ways. You can argue that Cathy's youthful spunk can turn into impetuous and impulsive vanity, whereas Bella is just (because she lacks that youthful spunk, having been "born thirty-five years old") ungrateful whenever Alice (who's really the most awesome character in Twilight) takes her on a shopping spree or throws parties in her honor.

So just how bratty can Cathy get? You'll see what I mean soon.

So while everyone kept fawning over Cathy, Heathcliff kept his distance. Even if Hindley and the Lintons always shooed him away, Heathcliff probably would have stayed away anyway. He would have felt extremely inferior, having spent the entire day working in the fields and never getting the opportunity to freshen up. Maybe he thought his B.O. would gravely offend Cathy.

Anyway, here's where Cathy seems a bit... how shall I call it?

Two-faced.

Try to imagine Cathy as the rich, most popular girl at your high school, and Heathcliff as the hot loner dude that everyone thinks is poor. Cathy, of course, will hang out with the other popular people and pay Heathcliff no mind because her peers don't think that he matters. Then when everyone's left and no one's looking, Cathy would seek out Heathcliff and tantalize him with the hope of spending some alone time together.

BUT when everyone else from the in-crowd comes back, Cathy leaves Heathcliff. She pretends not to know him at all while entertaining the vain inanities of her so-called "friends." Cathy's really no better than a mean girl.

Poor Heathcliff! No wonder he's all screwed up!

Okay. Maybe I'm being too harsh on Cathy (and okay, so I've also been pretty harsh on Bella). Peer pressure is a persuasive fiend that seduces you into wanting to fit inside its lukwarm half-open embrace. But it's just as ready to toss you aside if you cross it.

(I'm skipping Lockwood's interruption of Mrs. Dean's storytelling. It's not that important.)

TO CHAPTER 8... AND AWAY!

Tackling 'Wuthering Heights' -- Chapter 6

It's been a bit of a while, and I've been multi-tasking. Reading some chapters, recapping them, and working on my own story, as well as convincing my sister to paint my toenails red in between. It's a doozy! But anyway, I got them done.

So, without further ado, Chapter 6 of Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights...

Hindley, Cathy's brother, came back to Wuthering Heights for the funeral. And he brought his new little wife with him. He's feeling really high and mighty now because the estate now technically belongs to him, thereby making him the new "master."

Frances -- Hindley's wife, if you recall from Cathy's diary entry -- became the talk of the neighbors. Apparently, funerals really freak her out (my mom would probably concur, since she hates watching horror movies and hates thinking about anything that's dead). Frances confided in Mrs. Dean, aka "Nelly" (a new nickname that we learn in this chapter), that she was afraid of dying because of her coughing fits. Maybe Frances has tuberculosis? It's either that, or she's a hypochondriac who just can't help but fret over every little health issue. Who knows? Nelly proably thought the case was the latter.

Turning our attention back to Hindley...

He's out of shape. And he's meaner. Hindley bossed the servants around ("My daddy's not here anymore, so that makes me the new master, and you have to follow me even though I'm being a douchebag bully to you, otherwise I'll throw you out and you'll have no home whatsoever! Mwahahahahaha!"). He told them to sleep in the back kitchen and leave the house for him and his wife. Hindley wanted to redecorate, but Frances liked things the way they already were, so he dropped all plans of fixing the place up. If Martha Stewart had already been born, then I bet Frances would have jumped at the chance.

Frances loved doting on Cathy -- she treated her like a little doll. But then this would get old and Frances would get "peevish," while Hindley grew "tyrannical." The lovebirds really do deserve each other, don't they?

Anyway.

Hindley forced Heathcliff into the servants' quarters, denied him of getting educated, and insisted that Heathcliff work in the fields like a common farm hand. Heathcliff, meanwhile, handled his situation well because Cathy would teach him what she learned and would would spend time with him in the fields. Whenever they got into trouble with Hindley, they would run away into the moors together and spend the entire day there, only to return very late. It was as if being together was the cure for their misfortunes.

It sounds very sweet at first. Until something happens that changes everything, turning Heathcliff's world inside out and upside down, as he then tells Nelly what happened...

One evening Cathy and Heathcliff were out in the moors when they decided to spy on Edgar Linton and his sister, Isabella (mmhmmm... Is this where SMeyer subconsciously got the name for her protagonist?). It was really all just for the "lulz." Just for laughs. And boy, was this a pathetic sight!

Edgar and Isabella had been fighting over a dog, over who deserved to cuddle with it. These kids were like, pre-teens (age 11 or 12), mind you. They'd nearly ripped the poor, yelping puppy into two. Savage!

One moment they were sniveling, and the next, you could have sworn their ears pointed up like this fellow, masquerading as an overly alert bunny rabbit:

They heard Cathy's and Heathcliff's snickering laughter. The two pranksters then proceeded to make "frightful noises to terrify them still more."

Edgar and Isabella alerted the servants. As Cathy and Heathcliff tried to run away, Cathy's foot got caught in the guard dog's mouth. She told Heathcliff to run ahead without her. (The guard dog's name, by the way, was  Skulker... that sounds scary, but way cooler than just calling it "Rex" or something ghastly cliched as "Spot." I wonder if Emily had a dog named Skulker.)

Then a servant came out, carried Cathy inside, and told Mr. and Mrs. Linton what all the hubbub was about. The Lintons recognized Cathy as servants tended to the girl's bleeding foot and ankle. They were shocked to find out that her BFF was an unruly-looking gypsy boy. LIKE, OMG, GASP!

Heathcliff, being the sweet little romantic rascal that he was as a pre-teen, refused to leave Thrushcross Grange without Cathy by his side. But they sent him off on his own into the cold, windy night with nothing but a lantern to guide his way. The moors probably look extra creepy at night.

Poor Heathcliff (I dare you to count off how many times I say "Poor Heathcliff" throughout my other chapter recaps)... I really do feel sorry for him. I want to hug him and tell him to kick to those mean people in the shins the next time he sees them.

Meanwhile, the Lintons were all over Catherine. In Heathcliff's words:

"They dried and combed her beautiful hair, and gave her a pair of enormous slippers, and wheeled her to the fire; and I left her, as merry as she could be, dividing her food between the little dog and Skulker, whose nose she pinched as she ate; and kindling a spark of spirit in the vacant blue eyes of the Lintons -- a dim reflection of her own enchanting face."

Maybe the Lintons felt guilty that their stupid Skulker (which I imagine to be a rowdy pitbull or rottweiler) bit little Cathy's foot and might possibly give her rabies or some awful canine disease. Perhaps Cathy might never walk again! Then she can no longer go outside and explore the moors with Heathcliff, leaving the poor guy all alone with no one decent to talk to! OMG! And then she'll fall for Edgar Linton instead, breaking Heathcliff's already overly-abused and battered heart!

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Okay. I managed to get a grip. But it's clear that Heathcliff has a bad feeling about how things are going down, and you can sense the depth of his bitterness:

"I saw they were full of stupid admiration; she is so immeasurably superior to them -- to everybody on earth, is she not, Nelly?"

From then on, the Lintons and Hindley and his trophy wife Frances tried to keep Cathy and Heathcliff apart.

I'll say it again: Poor Heathcliff!

TO CHAPTER 7... AND AWAY!

Tackling 'Wuthering Heights' -- Chapter 5

Mr. Earnshaw, Cathy's and Hindley's dad, was weakening in his health and was confined to one room. He grew irritable, especially because he knew people resented him for taking in and caring for the gypsy-looking orphan boy Heathcliff. Paranoia at its finest.

Hindley, of course, grew even more jealous when the servants paid more attention to Heathcliff because they were trying to placate Mr. Earnshaw. Hindley's unruly behavior toward Heathcliff got so bad that Mr. Earnshaw had to send Hindley away to college to keep peace in the house.

As for Joseph, Mrs. Dean called him "the wearisomest self-righteous Pharisee that ever ransacked a Bible to trake the promises to himself and fling the curses to the neighbors." That's a brilliant description of the preachy old prick! Anyway, Joseph kept bothering Mr. Earnshaw about Heathcliff and Cathy, ratting them out and getting them into all sorts of trouble.

Cathy, on her part, was always hard-headed and difficult to control as a little girl. Always in mischief -- "a wilde wicked slip she was." But her cuteness as a kid and her beauty as a young woman made it hard for people to stay mad at her for too long.

"She was much too fond of Heathcliff. The greatest punishment we could invent for her was to keep her separate from him: yet she got chided more than any of us on his account."

How adorable... except that they're being raised as brother and sister. Not that Cathy and Heathcliff are blood-related. But it's still awkward. I guess I can kind of see how Cathy and Bella are similar in that quote. Both feel pretty darn lost without their men doting on them 24/7. There's a phrase for that nowadays: clingy.

They're on the fast track to insanity if they don't watch it. Well, with Bella she already lost her marbles when she cliff-dived and expected that Edward (the imaginary voice in her head) would save her. Either that, or she felt utterly worthless without her sparklepire and truly wanted to die. Behold the following image:

I predict Cathy will go mad when she realizes that she could never truly be with Heathcliff for the rest of her life. I wonder how Bronte will present that scene, if Cathy does indeed go insane.

Oooooh... Check this passage out:

"She was never so happy as when we were all scolding her at once, and she defying us with her bold, saucy look, and her ready words; turning Joseph's religious curses into ridicule, baiting me [Mrs. Dean, housekeeper], and doing just what her father hated most -- showing her pretended insolence, which he thought real, had more power over Heathcliff than his kindness: how the boy would do her bidding in anything, and his only when it suited his own inclination."

So Cathy would get a kick out of arguing and winning each time -- she reveled in outsmarting those who would chide her for her antics. Heathcliff must have been really been in love with her, even when they were both little children. He seems all-too-willing to be Cathy's lackey.

I kind of respect Cathy for her rebellious tendencies. However, I still have my reservations regarding her character. I also predict that aside from her going mad, Cathy's rebellious streak will morph into full-on catty behavior and manipulation.

Anyway, back to the story --

Mr. Earnshaw died. Cathy and Heathcliff were distraught, wailing when they discovered they were both orphans. Sucks for Heathcliff, having his adoptive father die. We see a little moment of sweetness when Cathy and Heathcliff tried to console each other:

"I ran into the children's room: their door was ajar, I saw they had never laid down, though it was past midnight; but they were calmer, and did not need me to console them. The little souls were comforting each other with better thoughts than I could have hit on: no parson in the world ever pictured heaven so beautifully as they did, in their innocent talk: and, while I sobbed and listened, I could not help wishing we were all there safe together."

Awwwww... Young, innocent love.

How theirs will unfortunately turn sour. This is silly of me, but I really think that Lady Gaga's hit song "Bad Romance" should be the theme song, if some production team ever decided to adapt teh novel into a soap opera. Maybe it should be called "Weathering the Heights."

Or "Passion: Romance and Revenge." Better yet... "Romancing Revenge."

Interesting titles, wouldn't you say? Well, even if they're tacky, I'm having way too much fun with this!

TO CHAPTER 6... AND AWAY!