I Do Believe in Commas, I do!!!!! I do!!!!!

I have no idea when I discovered The Shoebox Project, or how. I don't actually read what it is: Fan Fiction. I don't look for it, I don't really write it any longer and at the time I read that I was definitely passed the stage of fan fiction. In high school, I was massively into boy band fan fiction, which I don't remember how I discovered either. But, if I want to be honest-- fan fiction is what REALLY got me started writing, creating stories and getting interested in writing honest romance instead of whatever the hell I'd been writing before this point in time. I learned quite a bit from the fan fiction I did read. I was REALLY picky on what I'd read too. I had one site that I liked and I only branched out of things this author suggested.

Then she went to college and my life exploded around me, and I stopped reading and writing fan fiction. I also started listening to Eminem and Limp Bizkit.

At some point, freshman year of college, I read some sort of fan fiction about Trigun. I remember I read it covertly over winter break, because I couldn't get a minute alone, so I pretended to go to bed-- then stayed up till all hours reading on my computer, silently giggling.

Freshman year, I also read fan fiction written by my friend C. It was Buffy based and introduced me to a whole new kind of fan fiction. What do I mean by this? Well, up till this point in time, all the things I'd ever read were independent stories. (Which with bands, is easy, as there is no actual story line, with a TV show, there's a story.) Anyways, she created a new character and worked her into the actual episodes of the TV show, which was utterly fascinating to me.

Then I started writing fan fiction again, as I created my own Buffy verse story, working my characters into a few episodes. I was all over the place with the whole thing and never really knew what I was doing, but it gave me something to do for two years till I lost interest.

I read Shoebox after I got married. And I honestly have no clue how I discovered it. I think one of my livejournal friends must have been reading it or something and one day when I was bored, I stumbled upon it. All I remember is: I read it at work.

Yeah, you read that right.

By the time I found it, all the Harry Potter books were out and I could tell by the dates, updates were beginning to get to be few and far between, because like all fan fiction writers, it seemed that life got in the way. I think after I found it, the authors might have updated twice.

Then the account was hacked while I was in Del Rio.

I thought the world was going to end, because I adored the story. To the point, I took their created story as the back story to the actual Harry Potter novels.

Luckily, someone had either saved the posts or something, as they are still online in PDF form. After the account was hacked though, it'd been almost a year since the last update and I knew one thing: it was over. One of the authors was now published. She's even appeared on the CBS morning show, I guess. (She's got a few more books out now, I guess. I don't know. I didn't look in it before I began writing.)

I don't know what got me really thinking about Shoebox again. I think it was something I saw on Pinterest when I was scrolling through for images for whatever I'm working on right now. Something...reminded me of it. So, I went looking for it and found it was not in e-book format. So, of course I downloaded it and put it on my Kindle. And spent the past two days reading it.

It's freaking long. It's actually longer than Summer Story, which I thought was the longest things in the world (after those classic books that wax on for pages about moor and rainfall).

But, I just finished it and feel that ache again, so familiar. I want more, if not just to get to the point where JK really starts telling the story of James, Lily, Sirius, Lupin and Wormtail.

While the e-book itself is littered with errors (like many e-books tragically are...I guess they are hard to format?), the storyline is still good. And while my Kindle isn't the best thing for images, I still got that same anticipation and envy I get when I read something brillant. (It's why I read, actually.) Did it give me the urge to create fan fiction?

No, not really. But, it did renew my want to create something brilliant. I've been in this sinkhole for the past two weeks. (Writing Alexis's stories tends to do this to me because I hate her.) So, I haven't been writing very much during the day. I've watched the entire series of Star Trek: Voyager. This is only okay because 1) I've never watched it totally in order and 2) I never saw how they got home.

Of course time travel was involved. Of course the Borg were involved.

I've watched Fortysomething, which amused me to no end. I was honestly surprised I liked it, if I'm honest with you as I don't usually like that sort of thing.

I've read a few books, one of them twice. (My Life Next Door, check it out. Brilliant.)

I've spent way too many hours on Pinterest. Which lead me back to Shoebox, with it's made up words, air filled with exclamation marks and characters that we all know the names of, but don't really know before the Major Events of the actual Harry Potter series. Personally, I think the two authors of Shoebox (I keep typing Showbox for some reason) do a brilliant job at creating believable characters that end up as they do. (Granted, we only really get to know three of them at all, as two are all ready dead at the start of Harry Potter.) But, it's easy to see Lupin winding up as he does, doing what he does, seeing things as he does. I think they do a brilliant job hinting at why Peter turned. And it's so easy to see Sirius...well, being Sirius. (Full disclosure: Sirius and Lupin are my two favorite characters and when JK killed THEM BOTH OFF, I almost had a conniption.)

So, if you have some time to kill, enjoy Harry Potter, give it a shot. It being Shoebox.

What I Found On The Floor

I discovered Harry Potter on the floor of my room.

Read that statement a few times. I'll wait.

So? I bet you're wondering what Harry Potter was doing on my floor, right? I'll tell you: waiting to be wrapped.

Freshman year saw the second year I wrapped the family gifts. In the box my mom had left on my floor, I found Harry Potter. I took it out of the box, saw the note and looked at it curiously. For one, my mom was under the delusion my brother was going to read a book. Second, it looked interesting to me. At the time, I was a rather big fan of fantasy stories, having just polished off every single Tamora Price book I could get my hands on. I opened the book and read the flap.

After reading the flap, I read the first chapter. (Yes, I read the first chapter of a book not meant for me, but my brother. I doubt he actually read the first chapter, as evident by his later "book reports" he did for school.)

After polishing off the first chapter, I wrapped the book. I figured my brother wouldn't read it. I was proven right a few days later, which upon opening the book, he looked at it as if he'd opened up a rancid package of meat. Tossing the book aside, he moved onto bigger and better things.

That night, I took the book. And devoured it.

My first time reading it, I don't remember how carefully I read it. I do remember my mother telling me that the next book was coming out shortly.

I didn't read book two till after book three came out, as that was when Harry Potter reappeared in our house. The summer after book three came out, my mom (or dad, I'm not sure who) ordered them for me. I read them that summer, eating them up as if they were chocolate.

I was in love with Harry Potter. I recognized the brilliant writing. The way Rowling wove the story amazed me. Granted, I didn't appreciate this until I started re-reading things, which I did not begin to do till I was a senior and bored out of my mind during study hall. At first, I just re-read the first book, as the movie was coming out and I wanted the story fresh in my head. This was the first time I began putting pieces together. But the time I finished my second reading of the first four books, I was amazed at how tightly the story was wound together. And I still had three more books to get through.

But, I was in awe. I wanted to be Rowling. I wanted to write like her, layer hints in, layer in symbolism and construct a web as she has done within the Harry Potter universe.

I also learned the value of the re-read. I plow through  books so quickly the first time I read them, I miss things. I blow over major things in order to get to the end. I am not patient while reading. This is why sometimes I find books boring. Once I know how it'll end, my reading usually goes better.

As the last three books of the Harry Potter series were rolled out over the next five years of my life, I gobbled them up as soon as they arrived in my house, sometimes against the wishes of my parents. For instance, once while I was left home alone shortly after Half Blood Prince showed up, I was supposed to be cleaning my room while my parents were off doing something that invovled socializing with relatives. Getting a jump start on being a hermit, I remained home. With the Harry Potter book, which called to me: READ ME! READ ME!

I had been advised not to read the book. We were going to vacation soon and my mom told me I ought to have books to read while sitting in a cabin in Tennessee.

I didn't listen. I read Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. In the day my parents were away when I should have been cleaning my room.

I don't think I told them I had read it. I re-read it when I should have been reading it the first time. The only good this really did in the end, my dad was able to slowly read it while we were on vacation. (He reads Harry Potter super slow, so not to miss things. I just read them millions of times over.)

By the time the last book came out, I had graduated from college. I only remember I had graduated, because the weekend the book showed up, Pilot Boy was in my life, as the weekend I read the book, he was BORED. I had to read it and Pilot Boy doesn't read. Or know how to entertain himself while I read. (He still hasn't figured this out.)

My favorite books are three and six. I'm super proud of myself, because I guess correctly who RAB was. After I saw that at the end of Half Blood Prince, I was like, "I KNOW WHO THAT IS!" I picked up on the hint, right away. I felt wonderful when I read the last book and was proven correct.

Since the last book came out, I have re-read the whole series at least three or four times. While I was working in St. Louis, I read the series twice through while riding the train downtown. (When I had to tote around book four and book five, my shoulder hated me.) My books are worn, beat up, and spotted with stains. They are well loved and they are British.

Yes, we had two sets of books in our house: American and British. As a freshman, I decided I wanted the British versions. My aunt and uncle got the box set of the first four for me, then added on the others. Are the British ones different than the American ones? Yeah, actually. The first three are very different, due to the fact they use all the British slang that was taken out to make it understandable to Americans. By the fourth or fifth book, they stopped. But, I love the British ones because they are British, so they use British punctuation and spelling. I'm weird.

When I was thinking about books that have impacted my writing, I knew I had to cover Harry Potter. And I knew I had to start with how I found Harry on the bedroom floor.

First "Real" Book

I didn't learn to read till I was in fourth grade. And by "read" I mean, read at the level I ought to be at. I didn't comprehend the object of reading. I memorized most of the things I should have been "reading." I did not read chapter books. Or books without pictures. Ten year old Ireland wanted to read picture books. Ten year old Ireland should have been reading chapter books. I didn't read for enjoyment either. I checked out the same kindergarten level books from the library I'd been checking you since I started going to school (or so my mother tells me).

In fourth grade, my parents sent me off to get help.  I figured out that reading could be fun. So, I began reading.

And have yet to stop.
The first "real" book I read on my own with out prompting was called Nobodies and Somebodies. I assume this book was bought by my mother at the book fair or something. I have no clue where I got the book. I do remember reading it. Multiple times. I love this book. It's got almost all of my favorite subjects. And, when I read it, it had all my favorite topics. What were these:

1. Popularity.
2. Friendship.

That is what this book is about.

The book also began my life long love affair with alternating viewpoints. I'm a sucker for the following things in books:

1. Alternating viewpoints
2. Famous people
3. International travel
4. Books set in London/UK/Ireland/Scotland

Nobodies and Somebodies has only one of those things, but when I was ten (or eleven), those things didn't fascinate me as they do now. However, clubs did. When I was growing up, forming a club was a big deal and sometimes I dreamed about. I was usually the kid that was excluded from the clubs kids at school formed, even though I knew the kids who were in this club and they were "friends." It frustrated me to no end, but because I am kind of lackadaisical about things, I didn't do anything.

But, I still dreamed about being the popular girl, the one with all the clothes, the one who was forming clubs. So, this book spoke to me.

This book has three characters telling the story: Laura, Janet, and Vero. Laura's the new girl (another thing that peeked my interest as a kid, I was never the new girl), Janet was the girl who wore thick glasses and befriended Laura right away and Vero was part of the trio of "popular" girls, aka the Somebodies. Laura is completely fascinated by the Somebodies, who all sit on a window ledge in the classroom each morning. They also have a spot on the playground that is just for them. Laura wants to be one of them. But, Janet tells her this is a bad idea, as Janet thought she had made it in the club, only to be replaced by new girl Vero, who was cooler.

Snubbed by the Somebodies, Janet rebels as Laura gets sucked in deeper into trying to impress the group, by forming a club called the Nobodies.  She invites everyone (save Laura and the three Somebodies) to join the group. And hijinks insure.

This book, while rather simplistic when I re-read it the last time (when I was in college or just graduated, I don't remember) was still the foundation of my interest in writing. I loved the story so much, I wanted to recreate it on my own level. I began writing in earnest at this point in time and my stories basically kept the themes of this book. And they were told from different point of views. I like getting different viewpoints and I love writing from different viewpoints.

The first complete story I wrote when I was in eighth grade was inspired by this book. It was the first story I wrote that was written correctly and clearly and had a plot. It also had a beginning, middle and end. It was told by two characters (Asia and Deja). Asia was short and not very pretty, but the popular girl. Deja was the pretty one but wasn't popular. There was cheerleading involved. The story ended with a battle between Deja and Asia, where Asia finally embraced her nerd side and admitted she hated being pouplar and was happy to just be with her friends. Not the best story, but it was a start.

RAB deals with a lot of the same themes that Nobodies and Somebodies did as well. Granted, the characters in NAS are in fifth or fourth grade and RAB's characters are all in high school, but they are rather similar. I can see a lot of Vero in G, A is rather a lot like Laura, while T is kind of like Janet. Or not. I don't know, I never really liked Janet.

I have no idea where the copy of Nobodies and Somebodies went. Last I saw it, it was in my room on the bookshelf above my desk. Upon moving out, I don't think I took it with me. Or it had gone MIA. I don't have it here with me (unless its in that missing box of books I swear I have). I know it's no longer in my old room at home, as most of my belongings have been cleared out of there. I've got no clue where the book that set me on the path I'm on right now is. Tragic. I think I'll order a new copy.

The World Turns, I Get Older

Last year, I kind of freaked out about turning 27. And by freaked out, I spent the whole day feeling old and...unaccomplished. Or I guess disillusioned would be a better word.

Well, I'm 28. And...I'm pretty much in the same spot I was last year. Only, I have more hair. And five pounds around my middle. (It comes with getting old, or so I am told every time I complain about it.) We also have more snow on the ground than we did a year ago. And I didn't shovel it. Unlike last year, when I went outside in a thin sweater and shoved the driveway without gloves. I whined this morning I can't find my gloves, so I can't do it.

Like last year, I am thinking about ten years ago. Why? Because I remember being 18, just as I remember being 17. When I turned 17, I honestly didn't remember being 7, as I don't remember much about being 8. Other than I had long hair. Useful, I know.

Anyways, when I turned 18, the following happened:

1. Monsters Inc came out. It was the ONLY thing I wanted to do for my birthday. Really, I want to go see a movie? On opening night? That's a cartoon, fine. It was all I wanted. I didn't get it. Due to teenage drama, the showing I wanted was sold out. So, I didn't see the movie till the following weekend and I was cranky. Because...of teenage drama. Today is Wednesday. No movies come out today I want to see. I have no desire to see movies. Because...I am old. And I am a hermit, so I'd rather stay in my house and use Netflix.
2. My best friend gave me a SUPER SIZED Hersey's bar. Seriously, it was like two pounds of Hersey's bar. And I kept it under my bed. Why? Because that is where I kept junk food when I was 18: under my bed. Gross, I know. Now days, at 28, I keep plastic bins, suitcases and boxes of junk that never got unpacked because it should have been left in Del Rio. (The Hersey's bar remained under the bed till the spring when my mother was like, WILL YOU DO SOMETHING WITH THAT?! So I made cookies. Or something. I don't remember. I just remember it was under my bed for the longest time and I was honesty tired of chocolate by the time I finally smashed it up to make cookies.)
3. I got my blue book back. Which I am currently staring at. Because a few months ago I had my mother send it to me along with all my other journals. I was a writing fiend as a teenager, especially at 18. I don't keep one now. I tried, but, I'm so boring and...not filled with teenage angst. I find keeping this blog hard enough.
4. I remember what I wore that day. And the fact I spent three hours curling my hair into tiny, tiny cork screw curls. The very ones one of the teachers asked me, with a look of awe on her face, "How long did that take you?" It took three hours and by the end of the day, my head hurt from the tug of the ponytail I wore my hair in with the complicated rolls I wore on top of my head. It was a very complicated style and I only wore it twice in my life. It was a total pain. And actually, kind of looked stupid.
5. I had never been in love. I thought I was in love at 18, but I really wasn't. I read a book last night that described falling in love perfectly. (Well a few, but this book really resonated with me, I'm not sure why, but I'm going with it.) You fall. You do not think about it. I just happens and requires no thought or doubt. At 18, I was filled with thoughts and doubts (I have five volumes of journals telling me so much). At 28, I just know. The first time I fell in love, I just knew. It wasn't dramatic. It was the simplest thing in the world. (The falling part, after that, not so simple.) At 18, I felt no relief, only angst and drama. I worried. I was paranoid. I listened to songs and the more angsty the lyrics, the more dark, more drama...the better. I...don't do that any more. I don't see relationship with Pilot Boy in angst-ridden, dark, dramatic songs. Now, I just see CHARACTERS that are in my head in songs I like. Seriously. I no longer have songs, my characters have songs. Stories get songs. My life, not so much.
6. Point six is mixed in with point five.
7. 18 was the first birthday I viewed as a total disaster that I remember. I honestly don't remember turning 15, 16, 17 or anything before that. Those just happened. 18 is the first birthday that burned itself into my mind and refused to let go. And until I turned 21, I had horrible birthdays. They were just...horrific. I always had a horrible day, there was always some sort of drama that unfolded that left me feeling like total shit by the end of the day. When I turned 21...nothing happened. I am serious. I was also deliriously happy, but on the actual day of my birthday, honestly nothing happened. Well, things happened, but nothing that happened due to the fact I was turning 21. I got up late, missed my first lecture, walked to my room in the early morning cold, changed for lunch and then just went about my day till I returned to my room on a hill and fell face first into my bed and fell asleep for an hour. I then woke up, made a Chinese instant meal, ate it in my freezing cold room, was dragged to a party downstairs for like five minutes and then fell asleep. It was...the best day ever. It was the day I fell in love with Glasgow. From that day forward, Glasgow was the best place on earth as far as I was concerned. So much so, I still write love stories about it. And...it's Glasgow.
8. I have something in common with my 18 year old self, though. At 18, I still thought, deep down, I'd be a writer some day. I was beginning to give up this goal, as I had realized sophomore year there was no money in it and I wanted lots of money, but I didn't really give up the writing dream till much later on in my life. And I didn't pick it up till roughly a year or so ago. And since then, I've been working. While Pilot Boy might not think I am "working" I think I am working. I might not be getting paid at the moment, but I write, edit and revise daily. I read for research. Hell, I do research. I never did that before. I just wrote. I thought writing was just about writing the story. I always wrote what I knew, but even doing that...research is needed. I have spent the past year researching colleges, cities, staring at maps of Glasgow, London, Dublin and Chicago. I research names, last names, first names, middle names, back stories, houses, floor plans, and meanings of words in dead languages that no one knows how to speak. I draw maps, I look at maps, and I create entire universes in my head. I spent a whole day figuring out the Scottish schooling system and then another four hours making a freaking class schedule for a character. I spend time scouring the internet for snip its of Scottish/English/Irish/French/Southern American/Etc in order to be able to write out what I hear. I read books I would never read in the name of research. My 18 old self...read Harry Potter.
9. I didn't feel any different when I turned 18. I was an "adult" and yet I did not feel very adult like. I honestly felt like I was not old enough to do the things that 18 year old kids are allowed to do. I didn't think I was old enough to be voting in elections and I had no desire for cigarettes or any of the other things 18 year old kids can buy. I still don't honestly feel like I am old enough to do some things. Something happens after you turn 25, though. You forget how old you are. I walked around this past year, when I was 27, thinking I was 28. Pilot Boy tried to convince me the other day he was only 25 and I was 26. I had to actually do the math to figure out how old I was. And was really confused to find out I was 27. I did the math like five times. At least, this year, while thinking I am 28, I'll actually be 28.
10. 18 year old me burned herself with the curling iron. Often. 28 year old me burns myself, but not usually with the curling iron, as I don't use one as much as I used to. I do, though, usually burn my fingers because I refuse to wear that stupid heat proof gloves that came with the rod thing I bought and use because it makes the most natural looking curls. No, 28 year old me (who was 27 when most of these things happened) just burns herself on the oven, the stove, and the iron. And sometimes the hair dryer. But not as bad as when I was 15 and I dropped it on the back of my neck. I used to balance it in a tissue box over the side of my dresser and then sit under it and blow dry my hair straight and flat. (This was before I knew what a straightening iron was.) One day, the blow dryer fill, right on my neck when I had my head bowed to dry the back of my head. (This was the year of the mushroom hair cut, so I had short hair.) Least to say, I had an ugly red mark on the back of my neck that looked alarmingly like a hickey. And I had no boyfriend to give it to me. I had to go to church and everyone saw it, as I didn't know it was there till I got to church. No one believed I had burned myself either, as it was on the back of my neck. How do you drop a hair dryer there? I had no clue why no one believed me, either, as I thought it was rather well known I had no boyfriend.

Well, there. My birthday entry. Today has nothing speical in store. Other than some eating. I ought to eat lunch today before three pm. Which was when I ate yesterday. Because I forgot. 18 year old me always ate lunch at 10.30 am. As I had fourth hour lunch. 28 year old Ireland, has no lunch time. Sometimes she forgets to eat lunch.

Agreeing with 13 Year Old Me

When I was 13 I read a book. Well, I read more than one book, but this book was so important, I wrote about it in my journal. The journal I was actually writing for my future daughter, an idea I got from another book I read when I was 13. Okay, so I read a lot of books when I was 13, but THIS ONE I REMEMBER THE TITLE OF.

Well, kinda.

I remembered the author.

Kinda.

Because when I decided I wanted to buy the book on my Kindle, it took me a few searches to get the named spelled right.

It was Tamora Pierce. Not Tamara Price. Not Tamora Price. Nor was it Tamaro Priece. (Spelling was never a strong suit in the first place.)

When I was 13, for reasons I do not remember, I decided to check out a book called Alanna: The First Adventure. I also checked out the book next to it called In the Hands of the Goddess. No clue why I did this, as if I am honest with you, I was not into these sort of books as a kid. At 13, I was searching for books about romance. Or boys. Or romances with boys. Or hair. Popularity. Stuff like that. So, no idea how the 13 year old me came across these books.

Actually, I know how I came across them...because after I'd do searches on the computers for books and not find anything, I'd go to the stacks, pick a spot and begin to look for interesting titles or books with bright colors.

Which this book did not have. So I still do not know why 13 year old me picked it up, but I did.

And they made a huge impression on me, to the point I began to consume books by Tamora Pierce. I read EVERY single book the local library had by her. FOR YEARS I would go to the spot in the library where her books lived and religiously checked for new books.

I had a favorite author and her name was Tamora Pierce and I always called her Tamara Price. (Because I was that lame.)

I believe the last time I checked the area her books lived in the library was when I was 22. It was right before we went on vacation and I needed books to read during our time in the middle of nowhere. I had learned the previous year books would save me. Tragically, I had all ready read the newest Harry Potter book, so I was at the library trying to find something to amuse myself with. I do not know what possessed me to walk over to the YA section, an area I had not visited since I graduated from high school, but I went over there. To only the section where the Pierce books lived. I don't remember what was there, or why I went, but I noticed there were two very new looking books sitting on the shelf. I picked them both up and discovered they were part of the series I had first fell in love with (well, kinda).

I checked them out.

I read them in a day.

A piece.

I fell in love with the characters from the original series all over again. I vowed I was going to start at the beginning and re-read all the Tortall books again (Tortall is the "land" where the books take place.)

I never did this.

I don't remember what happened to prevent me from doing this, as I honestly had no life that summer. I had no job and the only thing I did was re-write The Novel. First major overhaul, which oddly was inspired by reading the Trickster books. 

Flash forward to today. I am not 13. I have very little in common with my 13 year old self. For one, I hate scrunchies. I am embarrassed I ever had so many. I also don't like to wear oversize t-shirts and don't wear pants that are two sizes too big for me and drag on the ground. I also will never wear clogs in the winter and think it is cool. I do not wear big old glasses nor do I have a mouth full of metal. (though, ironically, I do have braces at the moment...) I have boobs and hips. And I do not wear my hair in a ponytail on a daily basis, even though I paid over 20 dollars for a fancy haircut no one ever saw. (I pay for fancy haircuts still, but I wear them out and about these days because I know how to use a hair dryer.) I do not write in a journal any more and I have no clue where the volumes of journals are that I wrote for my future daughter. I bet my mom put them somewhere where I will never find them...like the trash can... or the box labeled IRELAND'S JUNK in the basement...

I am 27 years old (even though I keep thinking I am 28). But I still am in love with the books I read at 13. However, I have learned that even though I thought these books were the BEST BOOKS in the whole wide world, I totally did not READ them, as at 27, I had no clue WHAT THEY WERE ABOUT. If you had asked me last week, what these books were about, I would have told you something way out in left field.

Alanna is about a girl who decides she wants to be a knight instead of a lady, so she goes off to be a knight. That much 13 year old me understood. What 13 year old me failed to remember about the book was that a major plot point in the book took place. 27 year old me did not see that one coming. It was out of left field. (The other left field, not the one 13 year old me was standing in.)

In the Hand of the Goddess also was filled with many surprises. And things I never understood at 13, because I read fast and I only read the books once. (At 27 I know I ALWAYS must read books at least twice before I make any decision on them, as the first read through is always too fast. And I miss major plot points.)

Things in my 13 year old head were very jumbled up compared to how they actually occurred in the books. As I continued to read the Lioness series (the Alanna books), I realized I FAILED AT LIFE when I read them the first time. I did not understand or comprehend a lot of what was going on. I remember being pissed off at Alanna for not being queen. I had no clue who George was or why he was important. I honestly thought that in the books Alanna battled her twin brother, and sorcerer, Thom. Not the guy she actually battled, who when he appeared in my 27 year old read through, I was like WHO THE HELL IS THIS? I was making up my OWN STORIES about the books when I read them at 13. I did the same with The Immortals series, the next series I read by Pierce. That one I totally jumped ship as I had no clue when I read them at 27 what they were about other than I knew in the end the main character got together with the tall dude I called NICK through out the book in my head. His name was not Nick in the least by the way. I don't know WHY I even called him that. (Okay, I do. But I am NOT going to tell you.)

I spent the past week re-reading the Lioness and Immortal series. They are wonderful books, seriously, they are. I love the rich world Pierce creates. I love the characters for who they are and at 27, when I slowly read through them, I picked up on things that I did not see at 13 because I read through them too quickly. At 13, I got hung up on the various romances that Alanna had. (And totally missed one...go figure). At 27, I realized George was very important. On many levels. More important than Jonathan even (who at 13, I was madly in love with). I also noticed the sub-theme of how Alanna struggled to figure out her identity, which was something I totally flew passed at 13. I was mad at her throughout the last two books because she seemed to just whine about being a girl or something. I know I read the last two books, but until two days ago, I could not for the life of me actually tell you what they were about in the least. I just knew that in the end, Alanna got married. The end.

Anyways, one thing my 13 year old self got out of these books were they are GOOD. I am serious, they are good. So good, I went through a total of 8 books in a week. (A book and half a day. Or more.) I finished yesterday and was SO SAD that I was done with the first two series. (There is another four book series that takes place in Tortall and then the two Trickers books, but I am saving those for a later date. Or and then one that takes place before Alanna's time about a ancestor of George, but those are for a later date as well.) I am glad I bought them (even if I had to buy the last Immortal book through B&N and thus can only read it on my iPhone or computer...but I'll bitch about that later. Or not.)

If you are looking for a new series to get into (or get back into) check out the Song of the Lioness Series and The Immortals series by Tamora Pierce. Well worth a read or two.

The Death of Paper

So...last weekend/week my husband went to live in an ice cave. Seriously, he was in an ice cave.

But that isn't the point. The point is, I wanted to desperatly read a new book. So you say, Ireland, go to the library.

I can't. We don't actually have a library card because we never took the post card back to say YEAH WE LIVE HERE! And because when I went into the library, I didn't like it there. I am serious, I am very picky about what libraries I will use. I am a library brat. I think I only used the library in my home town because my mother made me.

But I'm not going to talk about libraries, or we'd be here forever. Like the time I talked about parking lots for two hours. BUT I WILL NOT DO THIS!

No, I want to talk about...eBooks.

I don't actually like books. I like READING. I like the art of creating WORDS ON PAPER. I like STORIES. But I hate the actual books. Why? Easy, they are cumbersome. Have you ever had to carry Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire in your purse? Have you ever attempted to carry more than one book in your purse? That are hard cover? I have you ever packed a whole suitcase that was just full of books and then gotten yelled at because you had no socks? (This might have been toys and not books, but you get the point.)

When I worked, I always had a book with me. I turned myself into Rory Gilmore and ALWAYS had a book on me. And my shoulders hated me. I know, why didn't I carry paperbacks? I did. They still take up room. And they still weight a lot when you carry around three of them. During the time I spent with Conrad Black, I read A LOT OF BOOKS. People BROUGHT ME BOOKS TO READ. I am totally serious. And I still have them because the people who would give me books would VANISH randomly during the trial. So, then I'd have a backpack of of paperbacks.

It was also at this time, I began to realize it kind of sucked trying to eat and read at the same time in a chair. (I never sat at the table. I had two chairs I used. It was MY DOMAIN, the Reader in the Corner who Never Talked.) Reading on the train also kind of sucked, as it was hard to keep the pages flat while trying not to touch the person next to me.

I began reading at lunch in high school when I was a ball of nerves and could not EAT in a room of peers. So my mom suggested I read jokes in Reader's Digest. We had spent the summer cleaning out my Grandma D's things and had an a collection of RD's. So they were in my lunch box and I was the weird girl reading during lunch. BUT IT HELPED. But, it did make it hard to eat.

So, back to where I started. eBooks.

I didn't get eBooks when they first appeared. I was like, "WFT? Another device I have to buy? Lame."
I didn't buy straight eBooks because I like to read all over the place. So, one day, I was watching TV and there was a Kindle add for the Kindle app. It moves between devices or something and I was like, "Interesting." I had been getting "free" books off of iBooks to read during times I wait for things (like the two hour oil change. I MADE myself read The Wizard of Oz.) So, I sat on my couch, picked up my iPhone and found the kindle app. I told myself if it was free, I'd get it.

It was free.

Then I went into the Kindle Store and found a few Maureen Johnson books I had wanted to read (they weren't at Target, where I buy most of my books because Target owns my soul). I hit the little download button.

Seven days later I was like "OMG THIS IS AMAZING."

Why?

I will list it for you.

1. I always have at least five books with me at all times.
2. I can read anywhere, in any position and the pages don't move unless I want them to be moved.
3. I can READ AT THE GYM. It is the most amazing thing in the world to make time go by quickly. It'd go better if I had a bigger screen than my iPhone, but STILL!
4. I can get a book at any time without leaving my house (as long as I have access to Wi-Fi.)
5. My shoulder no longer aches from toting around books. I always have my iPhone and it doesn't weigh as much as book.

There. Five reasons why I like eBooks.

I know eBooks do not smell. I know they aren't "books" and the experience in reading them is somehow "different." But, I was never super attached to the actual "book." I never did like book stores. They freaked me out. Too much in one small space. I remember being BORED out of my mind when my friends would go into used book stores in Madison. I would feel like I was wasting away into nothingness. It was like, TOO MANY BOOKS, BRAIN EXPLODE.

I am horrible, I do not care. I like reading on my iPhone. To me, there is nothing different than reading a book on my iPhone than reading an actual book. Also, after I read the book on my iPhone, I don't need to find another book shelf to put the book on. I only have two bookshelves and they are both full. So, in reality, I can't really get any more books. Unless Pilot Boy makes me another bookcase. It took me four years to get the first one.

Reading till my eyes pop

I've been doing a lot of reading as of late. I am not sure why this is, as I've had over a year to read to read to my heart's content, but recently I have had this huge urge to just read, read, read and read some more. I'm staying up till 11 or midnight simply reading. I do not think I have done that since the Harry Potter books came out.

I have read a few library books, one of which was really good. "As the Crow Flies" by Jeffery Archer. My mom got it for me and said she's read all of his books, except his newest one. It is a huge book and I finished it in two days. It would have been one, but I couldn't stay awake any longer. I also read another Mary Queen of Scots book, which I felt went a little better than the other one I'd read, which seemed to make her life heavily romantic, which in all honesty I don't think it was. "Fatel Majesty" by Reay Tannahill was the better of the two. I cannot remember the other one, as it is packed away in some storage unit in the Dirt Hole. The other book was a bit strange, I read it in a day. "The Gossip of the Starlings" I think was the name. It was strange, sort of like the book "Prep."

Due to the fact my dad ordered yet another light for the backyard so we can see Basil Dog the Black Wonder, he also ordered the new Dan Brown book. I've been dying to read "Angels & Demons" since the movie came out, only I had no idea where my copy of the book was. Turns out my Dad ran off with it and it is still in the house. My mom gave it to me saying, "Its in micro print. I can't read it." I had noticed this, as it is a paperback. I also noticed, as I ran off with the hard cover copy of "The Di Vinci Code" they have another one on the shelf in my room. (Which I learned my brother had cleared off for me, only to have my dad invade with all his own books, so I have no room to put things on the shelves.) I am looking forward to reading the new Dan Brown book. More than likely will finish it in a day.

Due to all this reading, I haven't made a purse. I did manage to get all the redo pictures up yesterday and post one. I still need to edit the pictures of the bigger bag and make the one i cut out last week. I am just sort of lackadaisical about sewing thing together at the moment. I have all ready concluded I'm going to basically miss fall, due to this feeling and other things coming up. Oh well. Such is life, right?