I have a strange obsession with convincing my friends to be obsessed with the same things I am. Does that make sense? Who cares because I'm about to convince you to become obsessed with the MTV show, "Awkward." I know you started shaking your head and maybe even tuned out altogether when MTV was mentioned, but trust me, as someone who normally does the exact same thing, "Awkward" is well worth your time and even admitting that you do watch MTV willingly.
"Awkward" is the perfect mix of teenage angst, fast-moving, mostly abbreviated dialogue, quirkiness, on-the-edge-of-your-seat-romance, and music you've never heard, but think you might just like. The maze of faces that the main character, Jenna, goes through as she tries to analyze the awkwardness around her is enough to make you want more; and since episodes are only 30 minutes long with commercial breaks, you'll be left wanting much more. That's how I was hooked. Now, I look forward to the next episode, which incidentally is the hour-long Season Finale, with a fierceness that could be called maniacal and, of course, obsessive. Told ya. Tune in next Tuesday, yes, on MTV to see what I'm blabbering about, and I think you will have a similar obsession no matter your age or gender. If not, I feel awkward...
It is painful to admit that you care what other people think. No, really. When I write, I wonder who will read my post, if anyone, and will they think I'm a weirdo, or just crazy... or maybe even, God forbid, a bad writer. Our wardrobe is based mostly on what we think will appear attractive to others, whether it be our friends, the opposite sex, or the fashion police if we are so consequential, but most of the time, we're not. So, why do we care what others think of us? I'd hate to say it's human nature because it's not. Maybe we were groomed to base daily decisions on the opinions of other people, but that's not innately us. The most free, self-appreciating and at home-in-their-own-skin kind of people I know, have one thing in common: they fly their freak flag proudly. It matters not what the general populace has to say about them, good or bad. Their self-worth is measured by the love they have for themselves, and not the approval, or sometimes disapproval, of everyone else. That freeness is infectious. It is something to strive for. Sometimes, being looked at in a funny way, or called quirky is a good thing. Love yourself, and you'll see that others will follow suit.
More often than not, I find myself lost these days... lost in thought, lost in the car, lost in my relationship, lost in life. Sad, but, nevertheless, true. I thought that over twenty years in this world and four years of living on my own would at least shed some light on my purpose. I hate to say that it is the polar opposite. I am twenty-one, a senior in college, and, quite frankly, I've never felt so lost in my life.
The more you know, the less you are certain of. At least, that's true in my case. In the past, I was certain of almost everything. Everything is hazy now, a contradiction, a circumstance with no right and no wrong. I'm just here, being. This must be the part in the movie when some one asks for a sign. This is my plea for a sign.
There's one sad truth in life I've found While journeying east and west - The only folks we really wound Are those we love the best. We flatter those we scarcely know, We please the fleeting guest, And deal full many a thoughtless blow To those who love us best. - Ella Wheeler Wilcox
When May rolled around this year, I was waiting any way but patiently on the latest book in the Sookie Stackhouse, or Southern Vampire, Series. This is my ritual: when school ends and finals come to a close each spring, I rush to Books A Million (sometimes multiple locations in order to find a store that has my book in stock), pay the $29.95 for the hardcover version (the only available in May), and curl up in hibernation until I turn the last page on my guilty pleasure. No, I'm not enriching my mind by perusing a classic, but I figure I deserve a treat after the hard work I've put in towards my education! So, I found this May's release from Charlaine Harris in my hands the day after it hit the shelves, and less than a week later, I closed the cover on my favorite telepathic barmaid.
Dead Reckoning starts where last year's release, Dead in the Family left off. Sookie is still recovering from her traumatic experience during the Fae War; dealing with her "marriage" and blood bond to vampire lover, Eric; planning the overthrow of the all- too nasty ruling vampire representative in Louisiana, Victor, all while holding down her waitressing job at Merlotte's where a recent bombing has left the customers scarce and Sookie facing the prospect of finding a new job. Old enemies return for Sookie's blood and, as always, she is fighting for her life on multiple occasions. In Dead Reckoning, Sookie learns even more about her family, including her beloved grandmother, and the telepathic gift that has haunted her since childhood.
Charlaine Harris
That being said, I was a little disappointed in the book. The plot lacked "oomph," a real climax, and I'm sorry to say that Sookie's raunchy escapades were missing, as well. Harris seems burned out on the series and even on her beloved character. This might actually be the case since the author recently announced she would be penning the last two novels ever in The Southern Vampire Mysteries. (Insert gasp) I can only hope that the next two books pack the punch that I and the rest of the readers have come to expect. Nonetheless, as a lover of Sookie, I still recommend Dead Reckoning as a juicy, can't-put-down, summer read.
Until next May's release of the second to last Sookie book, I will tide myself over with Season 4 of HBO's True Blood, based on the series. (Check out the trailer below.)
Two decades have brought me no closer to figuring out the mysteries of friendship. I often wonder why we befriend certain people... is it an innate attraction, a chemical connection in our brain, or much simpler? Do we consciously choose our friends?
Sometimes I think we fall into friendship without even knowing it. It comes to a point when someone is a natural part of your life, and you're not exactly sure when it happened or when you "became friends," but you just are. When you're driving home after a long day, you pull up in your driveway, and think to yourself I don't even remember driving home. Same scenario with friendship... you become so accustomed to it you don't remember how you got there. A friendship becomes an everyday thing, something mechanical, and, for the life of me, I can't recall how it all began. Sad, but true.
Maybe you say we do choose our friends and friendship. I say a friendship chooses us. It is the right place, the right time, a chance meeting, and mutual attraction. Friendship grows and prospers because we find pleasure in the other's company, and we will always choose to please ourselves given the chance. And when the pleasing is done? The friendship typically ends. Sure, ending a friendship is like amputating a limb because it is so near and dear to us, but we do it for self-preservation. In the end, we know it has run its course. A friendship steers both its beginning and its end; and this is the natural order of things. Sometimes, it's for the best that some things just don't work out. As Marilyn Monroe said, and I never thought I would quote Marilyn Monroe, "I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."
