Saturday, July 19, 2008

The Saga Continues...

As the influence of Twilight continues to seep through my household (even Mitch wants to read it now), I can't help but reflect on the disturbing nature of hearing the very thoughts I've been pondering on for so many months.
I mean, call me crazy- but I'm big on the internal dialogues. Consider the fact that I had no confidantes when I first plowed through these books- my cellphone was still something of a foreign tool to me, and Twilight Mania had yet to overtake the lone star state, leaving me in a hotel room with the novel I had heard so much about, yet knew so little of.

Things have changed dramatically.

Theories, more than anything, are a whole other discussion when your parents are involved. Weighing life experience versus a sense of "I know this book right side up, backwards, underwater and in another language", one can only come to the conclusion that, until the day we can hold Breaking Dawn in our hands, the future remains uncertain.

However, this does not stop us from theorizing. What else is being a literary fangirl about? (or, I suppose, fanboy)

My theory for Breaking Dawn stands as thus:
---SPOILER ALERT!!!--- ---SPOILER ALERT!!!---

The wedding will take place; however, on the honeymoon, the volturi and/or Denali clan be a-comin. Bella will not be changed by Edward, but by a vampire outside the Cullen family- possibly Tanya, Irina, a Volturi associate, or some vampire we haven't met yet. Bella's power will be that her venom- given her overall anti-vampiristic tendencies- reverses the usual effect, turning a vampire back to human form. This WILL end up with her using her ability against the volturi, possibly turning Rosalie back to human form (or at least giving her the opportunity to consider her existence as a vampire), and may create some conflict with Edward. Charlie will most likely find out about the vampires and werewolves, or he will be killed. Also, Jacob will return- and I have a very confusing but highly valid theory involving what happens when a vampire bites a werewolf. Mail me for details.

---SPOILERS END HERE---

Now, my father's current theory understandably shifts wih each passing hour, while my mom has none to speak of, although I will be posting it soon enough. Otherwise- this is a reference post for my own convenience! If you wanna talk twilight theorem- once again, mail me- I'll be happy to discuss on IM or yahoo mail. For now- adios and excelsior!

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Fear is Realized.

You may think that, given the state of the economy and a dozen other uncertainties that youth today seems simply unable to ignore, a teen such as myself might have some inkling of her greatest fear. And, to be clear, I do: getting stuck under clear ice with a shark and Neil Diamond blasting- now that scares me. Random. I am aware. But one fear has lingered in my mind now, for nearly a year. Not the kind that the media projects in every medium imaginable. Nor the type that strikes you when eating an orange mocha frappucino. No, my friends, this is the kind of fear that wakes you up at night, screaming from dreams of angry amish people and highly erratic celebrities. This is real. This is...
video

Yes. My Dad is reading Twilight.


Looking back, I really should have seen it coming. While the movement of Twilight guys has been in motion for only several months now, this one has been barreling toward me since the day I picked up that cursed book. See, in our family, inside jokes are as numerous as the hair my pathetically endearing bulldog scatters about the house. Anyone who cannot decipher the word "Tuna!!??" in such a context as we use it would find themselves very out of place in the Nowakowski home. So developed the quandry of Twilight. See, when you've been through hundreds of pages of the most idiotic heroine since volume one Sue Storm (and the other, far more interesting characters she associates with), you start finding certain things inexplicably funny. The name Edward. Switzerland. Silver volvos. You get the idea.

So a while back, he started to read it. That ended with the back cover. Which, consequently, had been the reason I didn't read it the first time around either. But if you read the newspaper, watch tv, or simply have an irritating acquantice with my level of interest in the series, you've probably noticed- Twilight has hit the radar, hard. It knocked Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows off the New York Times Bestseller's list. The first movie comes out in December. And honestly, its understandable that- even at risk of the romance this novel appears to be dripping with on every page- something's gotta give. You just can't be out of the loop forever. And who really wants to walk into the theater with all the suckers just catching a teenybopper flick? So my Dad is reading it. Now, the community of Twilight Guys online appears to be made up of two groups- boyfriends of Twilighters, and extreme exceptions who you would never expect to have any motivation to pick up a book about a girl and her supernatural BF and BFF. Never. A. Dad. So this could be a first, or at least, the first I've heard of.

But for a Dad, I must admit, I am impressed. Twilight falls into several categories that can really go either way; rarely settling in a middle ground. Romance.....sucks. Who needs it? Vampires.....well, after reading Interview with the Vampire, I can see that Twilight will never reach that mark. Yet, even as I feverishly proclaim my hate infinite for Edward (ultimate abusive boyfriend), Esme (why the heck is she even there?) and most of all, Bella (need i say anything?), something keeps us coming back to know what happens next. And until the day a nuclear bomb hits Forks and spares us all the misery of Izzy's pathetic narration, we are at the mercy of the sequels to come.
What do I mean by all this?
Well, hey- even Lois didn't beat him to this one. My DAD. Reading TWILIGHT. Before my teenage schoolmate.



And to my readers, a thousand rogue vampires and an ill-working pickup truck plague you, and may the good Lord save you!
-mradrz4evr-

Sunday, July 13, 2008

I Do Dare!

Don't ask.
But here it is: the blog post we've all been so desperately waiting for! I know its been forever, but regardless, I have a fairly decent excuse. Yes, it is a good excuse- having the unabashed menace of Ben and Kaitlyn flying about for two weeks can leave a person incapacitated at best- at least, enough so that updating a blog becomes a distant dream, and all you can hope for is sunny weather, or maybe that the chicken burger supply might not dwindle precariously low. (Thank heaven, it did not.)
What was I doing that kept me so busy? To make matters simple and clean (more for myself than anyone else) I will present my answer in list format.

THE ANSWER.
1. I was desperately trying to catch a few z's. You see, if you ask any teenager (or 12 year old boy, as we learned on the legendary "prank night"), night is the prime time to do pretty much anything. Painting your nails? Do it.....at night. Watching a terrifying movie? Wait for.....darkness. And, in our case, talking about who exactly manufactures those delicious little sour patch candies? ONLY IN THE LIGHT OF THE WANING MOON! You see, this whole manuever makes us feel far more sophisticated than we are, for in any adolescent fantasy, night is the time when parents drop their universal remotes and sweater-vests to go party at some unnamed nightclub among the elite, then (depending on who you ask) engage in high speed car chases after criminal drug lords, or vice versa (a la Grand Theft Auto).
2. I do believe in swimming. *somewhere, a fairy dies* Now, most believe I simply loathe such recreation, but that would not be the case. More than anything, I need a reason. I can't just jump into a pool for naught! No, I need motivation. In this case, a Washingtonian who looked ready to fall over, and did, on the stairs, leading me to believe that acclimation is in fact a real phenomenon that I may have experienced at some point in the ten months I've lived here. Go figure.
3. And last of all, I was doing stuff. Lots and lots and LOTS of stuff. Theme parks, historical parks, and the entirely indescribable spectacle that is a teen-girl-plagued rock concert- this is what I was doing for two weeks straight.
And then, I just needed to start living again.
Its not such a crazy request. I'm entitled to it! Constitutionally bound to my right for a happy existence. At least, until the big 1-8 hits. But for now, I can get away with sleeping in til 10, assured in the knowledge that I need not worry about the bear-infested world outside my front door. Sweet ignorance.
But not for long, according to the NEISD School District, 2701 Tesoro Drive, Suite 8. I know, because this party in question seems to send my mother emails on a weekly basis, all reminding us of the one inevitable door at the end of the smore-littered-hallway that is summer.
High school is a-comin.
And oh man, is it a high school. The largest I have ever seen. Its a wonder I don't wake up screaming at night, thinking about the commute from theater to biology. But hey, one great thing about having a whole new school to yourself- no one can say they've been there. Even the seniors will step foot in the hallways of Johnson the same day as us lowly freshman, one as equally unknowing as the other. On level ground, you might say (though, standing next to any freshman guy I know, I'm guessing they'll blatantly swear that they're on the downhill side.)
And while I wouldn't say I'm terrifically excited for the experience of high school, I will say this much: I did sixth through eighth. It doesn't get any worse than that. And knowing how far I've come in this year alone, my fears are few. New legions of texan schoolchildren are no unfamiliar sight. I can safely say I have seen loony teachers at their very least level of mental function. But more than anything, I have no doubt that the challenges I may face will be nothing more than that- challenges. The building blocks with which experience is made. And as a wise fellow once said...
Experience is not what happens to a man; it is what a man does with what happens to him.
Aldous Huxley

So true.