Comment with the title of a book you’d like me to read. I will read the first 13 and do a blog post on each book. If I have read it already, I’ll re-read it just for you. Go!

1. The Red Tent by Anita Diamant
2. A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini
3. The Ezekiel Option by Joel Rosenberg
4. A Girl Named Zippy by Haven Kimmel
5. life on the refrigerator door: Notes between a Mother and Daughter by Alice Kuipers
6. House of Mirth by Edith Wharton
7. A Voice in the Wind by Francine Rivers
8. The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis (all of them)
9. (see above)
10. (see above)
11. (see above)
12. (see above)
13. (see above)

If this strikes a chord with you, I recommend For Women Only (or, if you are a guy, For Men Only — I’ve read both).

This feels like a Pretty in Pink kind of day. Maybe it’s because I’m crampy and I associate cramps with being a teenager and angst and being interested in one guy while having two or three more interested in you while the first one couldn’t really care less.

And maybe it’s because the only other thing I considered watching was Atonement and right now I just don’t feel like it. It’s too soon. I watched it yesterday for the first time and it devastated me. Seriously, there was nothing happy about that at all. And I know that stories aren’t always happy. But the end got me. Once you get to that point (if you haven’t read the novel already) you can begin to put things together and the typing sounds in the score really make it all make sense, but an unreliable narrator really riles me up. Especially one that I have next to no compassion for and one who thinks that writing a story and “giving” two people a happy ending is really even close to “atoning” for her “sins.” I found it quite presumptuous of Briony to state that she gave the couple their happiness and that comment alone made me seriously question her state of mind. Is she losing it by this point?

I’d like to add that I didn’t feel any sort of compassion for Cecelia either, as I don’t think she gave Young Briony half a chance. She was a little girl who saw something she didn’t understand and ended up making something much larger out of it. Honestly, an adult can tell from the first second when he appears who the real culprit is, but what is a little girl to think? Certainly that the fellow with the most evidence against him is the guilty party.

I will say that it was terribly beautiful cinematography though. The racy content at the beginning makes it something I really can’t recommend in good conscience, but it’s very, very pretty. Not the racy content — the film overall. Sigh.

The way it’s stuck with me reminds me of the feeling I had after watching A Walk to Remember for the first time. I know what you’re thinking. She’s comparing a film based on a Nicholas Sparks novel to one based on a novel by Ian McEwan? I understand. But I must tell you that at the time that film came out, it was something very close. I had never identified with a character so much as Jamie Sullivan (in the book) and the film made it all the more real (though less appealing in some ways). To see her situation and the change that she helped to spark in that boy by expressing her faith really touched me. To watch her dreams come true and then have her pass from this life to the next, well, it made me examine my life, priorities, and where I stood on a lot of things. I began to seriously consider the impact my words and the way I lived had (or could have) on people. If you can get past the cheese factor (which doesn’t bother me so much because I am a certified Cheeseball) there are some great lessons to be gleaned from A Walk to Remember. I would suggest the novel over the film though.

If you enjoyed Atonement, I recommend: Jeux d’enfants (Eng. Title: Love Me If You Dare)

I am. Terrible. From time to time I get like this. No posts for days. And what kind of blog is that? Not the kind I like to read, but I do appreciate those of you who stick around and check everyday just the same.

At least I’m not a terrible monster. (Wonderful book!)

Right now I am staying pretty busy (by my standards) with planning parties, throwing showers for a soon-to-be-old-and-married friend, going on road trips, and turning twenty-three (next Wednesday). I’m hosting a “personal shower” this Friday and let me tell you–that’s going to be fun! Pictures (the ones that wouldn’t put a funny knot in my stomach if my Granny were to see them) next week sometime.

Until then, I leave you with ME, very excited to see the Haygoods in Branson.

Tonight I met Pat Conroy and it was marvelous. Never before have I heard someone speak words as alive as his were. Beautiful, funny, painful, happy, real stories. If I could have the tiniest fraction of that sort of talent, I would ask for nothing else.

What My Mother Doesn’t Know by Sonya Sones. That’s the book. I read it either my junior or senior year of high school, though the reading level is much lower than that because at that point in my life I was feeling as if I had missed out on lots of children’s literature altogether (also one of the reasons that I took Children’s Literature this semester - I highly recommend it for anyone at OU). When I was a child I went straight from Bill Wallace to Mary Higgins Clark and never looked back. In the 6th grade I tested on a college reading level and I wasn’t reading any of the books on the teacher’s bookshelf. None of the books in the library looked interesting to me. The day I started 7th grade and got to visit the high school library for the first time was one of those days I will never forget.

Back to the subject at hand. I was buying children’s literature so that I could get caught up. At the time I was planning to be an elementary school teacher (if you want to know my major changes at OU, they go something like this: Elementary Education, Language Arts Education, and lastly, English-Writing) and you know, I needed to be prepared. So I picked this book up at the book fair. It is really, really good. I think children around the age of 12 should have this book or one like it as required reading. It’s about all sorts of family troubles that are just on the fringes of the story, because as a young girl, Sophie (the main character) doesn’t know all the details, but the point is that she does know that something is going on.

And then there is Murphy. The one I am posting this about. Murphy is a boy in Sophie’s class. Murphy isn’t the best looking kid, and Sophie knows she would get teased for hanging out with him…there’s more I could say, but I’ll just post the poem. Whether you were a Murphy or you loved one, I think you will understand.

I am back from what was definitely the shortest spring break ever. The time I got to spend in Glorieta was marvelous and I feel so blessed that God has placed such amazing people in my life. I came away from the week with a much clearer idea of the direction that my life is headed in and at the same time I learned to let go of my many rigid plans that I so often find myself structuring my life around. I wish that those of you who weren’t there had been, as it was wonderful and I cannot imagine anything more perfect than spending a week in praise and learning more about God. And with that, here are a few pictures highlighting the week. If you would like to see more, there are 90-some-odd up on my Flickr account.

Me and Xiangfei before one of the nightly sessions. The week started with a pleasant 10-12 hour (I really wasn’t paying attention) bus ride that included quite a bit of reading The Poisonwood Bible, asking people questions from The Book of Questions, watching The Mighty Ducks, and like 10 million episodes of Saved By the Bell. Good trip though. People with short legs don’t have to do nearly as much stretching. And the reason I am rockin’ the side ponytail is because I was riding The 80s Bus. While we were there, I roomed with Cying, Fei, and Aaryn. Sweet, sweet girls. And Cying is about the same size as my mom which if you know either one is tiny. I just thought I would throw that in there. I don’t really look much like my mom at all. When I was a baby you could see the resemblance, but now it is unmistakable that I am my father’s daughter. Though the only features we share are the ones he got from Grannie. I’m the spitting image of her. Early in the week we went into Santa Fe, one of my favorite places. We had lunch at the Blue Corn Café and it was really good. I was adventurous and ordered something that wasn’t the enchiladas. I am terribly predictable when it comes to ordering food at restaurants. I’m trying to spice up my life a little. Aaryn and I saw a good deal of Santa Fe that afternoon and did some shopping. I was sad to see that my favorite shop, Doodlet’s was closed. It looked like they were renovating the sidewalk and the building, so I hope the place will be back soon. It’s so crazy and fun. I’m crossing my fingers and hoping that it will be all done or relocated by the time I am back in Santa Fe for the writing course I am planning to take this summer. The rest of the week was incredible, I really wish I could explain it all. As it happens right now though, I am unable to. The first of the week I started to get a sore throat that eventually turned into a cold which is now a bad cold. I was planning to go to church at Trinity with Aaryn tomorrow, but I had to take some Nyquil because it got so bad I don’t seen that happening now. And that makes me sad. Sigh. Say a prayer for me. Anyway, one more picture. Follies is one of the funnest (who cares if it’s not a word) things ever. EVER. Pure hilarity. This year the ribbon dancing took the cake. Way to go guys. After that, we all headed back and I was feeling particularly frolicsome. Sadly, no one else in my room was so Aaryn and I went out to the playground and played on the swings for a while. And I sang. Boy, did I sing. Sorry if you missed out on that show. The night’s repertoire included “Taylor, the Latte Boy” and “Adelaide’s Lament” which are two of my favorites. Find them and listen if you don’t know them already. Now I’ll leave you with the BSU ribbon dancers…