Isn’t it a beauty?
I’ve been eying this one up for a good time too. The title alone caught my attention since I’m a night animal myself. I’m at page 181 of 244, I’m not sure what to say and I mean that in a good way. I could probably gather my thoughts properly if I wrote after reading it but I’m trying to do like an in-between kind of thing.
At its center are two sisters—Eri, a fashion model slumbering her way into oblivion, and Mari, a young student soon led from solitary reading at an anonymous Denny’s toward people whose lives are radically alien to her own: a jazz trombonist who claims they’ve met before, a burly female “love hotel” manager and her maid staff, and a Chinese prostitute savagely brutalized by a businessman. These “night people” are haunted by secrets and needs that draw them together more powerfully than the differing circumstances that might keep them apart, and it soon becomes clear that Eri’s slumber—mysteriously tied to the businessman plagued by the mark of his crime—will either restore or annihilate her.
Rated it: 4.5 stars
Percy Jackson is about to be kicked out of boarding school… again. And that’s the least of his troubles. Lately, mythological monsters and the gods of Mount Olympus seem to be walking straight out of the pages of Percy’s Greek mythology textbook and into his life. And worse, he’s angered a few of them. Zeus’ master lightning bolt has been stolen, and Percy is the prime suspect.
Now Percy and his friends have just ten days to find and return Zeus’ stolen property and bring peace to a warring Mount Olympus. But to succeed on his quest, Percy will have to do more than catch the true thief: he must come to terms with the father who abandoned him; solve the riddle of the Oracle, which warns him of betrayal by a friend; and unravel a treachery more powerful than the gods themselves.
I’ve had this on my to-read list for a couple of years, until recently I finally decided to give it a try. I’m pleased to say that I was not disappointed. Percy Jackson is a smart mouthed kid, more than a little hot headed, slightly annoying, I’d say strong minded when it counts and vulnerable but yet ready to take chances. In the beginning I was thinking if he could get more complaining it’s going to be a problem, however, as it turned out he was okay.
Prior to reading this I was aware of Harry Potter parallels. There are certainly similarities, I can make a list now that I’ve finished; there’s the twelve cabins of the major Gods and Goddesses (twenty in all) in the place of the four houses for example. It’s no problem to me because whatever those intersecting concepts are they have valid purposes, it doesn’t seem like a cut-and-paste.
Here’s my offering for this week’s Picture it and Write! photo prompts hosted by Ermilia Blog. I must admit this was was a half hearted attempt but I would truly appreciate your thoughts. Cheers!
via Ermila Blog
Another day has caught up with me. The night giving way to the morning, but not without a struggle, for I sensed the rain before I heard it pelting on the cold zinc roof. The chaotic many-tiny-fisted pounding echoed with the way I’ve took a habit of feeling these days. What am I doing staying up, reading books that only feed imagination? At this point Percy Jackson is having a ball finding his path on his way of becoming a hero. In what way was that helpful? When see people my age getting jobs and slowly becoming adults, it prods an uneasy spot in me that gives way to hopeless panic.
I can follow up on the AL biology texts I’d thrown in a corner. But it’s not like I get into that field. I haven’t a clue in which way direction to stumble towards. The wind howled past me, sending the closed window to my right into a fit of nervous shuddering. I fancy it was trying to make up its mind too, hearing my mental distress and was attempting to choose a proper cardinal point.
If I was honest with myself I would admit that I knew exactly what I wanted but I find that my sense of duty a somewhat reluctant obstacle. I mean, it’s not like I could pack up and go exploring. I’m almost broke and living with my aunt and her husband to whom both I already owe a lot.
I should probably find a profession that involves traveling and learning. Archeology was shot down pretty gently and I’m quite embarrassed for myself for submitting to that conclusion they’d drawn up so confidently; my “Indiana Jones” phase. There’s this restlessness inside me that stirs at the glimpse of the churning sea, or at the uneven horizon of mist shrouded mountain tops, the drifting scent of fresh dew and the far cry of a high flying bird.
Aunt Em says that I am pining for my parents. That I want to somehow go out in the big yonder in search for a long gone trail. How do I explain to her that I gave up on them? Continue reading
So I just received this from Tumblr:
I did just that there, on WP, on Amazon, Goodreads and Twitter. It looks pretty damn authentic to me. Did you get this too?
You see me on the train
Usually your gaze passed over me like a light drizzle
You noticed me, today’s eye of the storm
An innocuous fixture
In your dream-scape of blurry reality
You focus on me (dunno why, not that special)
On my sand brown skin and longish chestnut hair
Your eyes probe my prone form
I grow nervous, but I stare right back
I’m too tired to care this second, ginger boy
What do you see,
How sharp is the harpoon of your gaze,
Will it pin my soul in place, at your mercy?
You seem kind enough, black depth-less eyes glisten with curiosity
You might have been shy once, what makes you so bold now
Stranger mine, that you brazenly attempt to read me
Van Gogh inspired fanart. Via Pinterest, click to see the pin.
So I’ve finished Doctor Who and am where everyone else is at, awaiting the rein of Peter Capaldi. My body spasms in tears and the time in between them can extend for days. I cry in quiet little tremors and every tear is like an arrow that leaks through the cracks in my skin and strikes my singular human heart. It is finally sinking in that Matt is not The Doctor on screen anymore. I mean, and we all can agree, that he – like the other magnificent men – will always be The Doctor. Our Doctor.
It bites every time a face is lost to time, if you know what I mean. Matt, oh, Matt. Ugh. I can’t ever say anything proper. I love him unlike any other. The funny thing is that at the beginning, I acknowledged him as the enigmatic Time Lord before I realized he was an actor. I mean that in a good way, and there are some bad ways it could go because I understand that some actors don’t like to be stuck in our minds just as a particular character. Matt, nah. He seems to bathe in every second of it.
I … I just. Oh for the love of custard and fish bits! I’ll spit it out. His Doctor was one who was filled with the pain on the inside but tried to cover it up under this ever fresh coat of happy paint; fresh because he mostly means it. He was the optimist, the best friend (and the son-in-law, hehe), ever the fighter and believer in dreams and bow-ties and fezzes. Matt’s energy and well-spring of vitality always always makes me feel better about myself and this world, more than any of the previous two had. I haven’t emphasized enough on how much of a goof he was but it was so obvious to us Whovians. Continue reading
Stretched out on the back seat
I close my eyes and pretend,
My head rests on vibrant green grass
The edges beaded with dew
I see the stars above,
And they moved as we drove
Like feeling the earth spin
But yet these sparkling stones remain
Piercing my human eyes
With mysterious light of a familiar Sun
And I think about that,
That connection and the distance
Then in between the noise
Of my breath, The Proclaimers, and the breeze
A silence settled over me like a blanket
An inaudible click, felt
The stars seemed to smile brighter
As if they knew
I’d never feel the same way
Ever again as I did on this long ago drive
This night when I felt
Myself one with the universe
All at once sound rushed in my ears
But I never did un-click
Because … I belong
I was made of the stuff of stars
I hear it’s poetry month, so I’ll try to write once a day. I think it’s neat, poetry month, a poem can say much more than whole paragraphs could and there’s so many ways to write them!
Good evening, folks ;)
(US and International suicide hotlines at the end)
Dear fellow humans,
If you made it past a really bad yesterday it means that you’re still here today, able to reach a computer, your eyes aren’t burning badly and too blurry from exhaustion. That’s a lot than what some people can say, the ones that collapse into an unconscious heap, sleep-starved. I don’t know what your life is like so I’m not going to pretend that I do but I have an idea of how it can knock a body down.
It’s extremely saddening to hear when someone gives up on the whole business of existing. Suicide isn’t the solution. If anything, it makes life even more terrible for those still alive. This is issue has been plaguing me off and on for the past few months; why is it so appealing? Oblivion? But what use is that? When so many people are fighting every second, grabbing with hands and feet onto the thread that still binds them to life.
“There’s no such thing as an ordinary human.”
~The (ninth) Doctor
To friends and family and co-workers and even strangers
I understand it’s difficult to spot when when someone is thinking about committing suicide but whenever you see a friend depressed or withdrawn, try to talk to them. A lot of people feel unloved and not cared for, that they’re so insignificant that their absence won’t even matter. Show them that you’re there whenever they need you.
I honestly can’t remember where I found this and I sincerely hope it’s not something I could be sued over.
To you, the suicidal
Don’t do it. Please please please don’t. You’re so much more than nothing. You can turn around if you try and you really have to try. If not for your sake now, think about the family and friends and the strangers you’ll never meet, because you can affect everyone of them. One man caused the holocaust, he made that difference. So what change can you, a good person, make?
“900 years of time and space and I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t important.”
- The (tenth) Doctor
You can be so much more. There might not be anyone else there for you but you. You are all that you have and you can be strong. I know, personally, someone who very nearly killed herself for the most stupid reason and today she see’s what a fool she was. Not all worries are stupid, or inconsequential but if you’re still breathing the next day, well, it means that it hasn’t destroyed you. If you can survive another day then you can do it again, again … and a thousand other days.