Jacob and Here's Why

I don't like the Twilight books. The writing is horrible, and anyone who can seriously compare them to Harry Potter is sadly, sadly mistaken. J.K. Rowling>>>>>Stephanie Myer.

That being said, the movies are not terrible. Except the first one. So, correction; the second movie is not terrible. I saw it twice (I was in N. Ireland though, so that makes a difference. There are not many things to do in Derry besides going to movies. And going to pubs. Yeah, those are really your only options.)

Usually, I frown upon movies based on books. They never live up. But since Twilight is so bad anyway, they didn't have much to lose when they made the movies! Bonus!

Personally, here's why I think that Jacob is better: he's abnormally warm. What a great quality for a man to have! Perpetual warmth!

This is attractive to me because I am almost always chilly. Last summer, we had a week of 100+ degree weather, and it didn't even faze me. While my dad was obsessively nailing sleeping bags over our sliding glass doors in order to keep the heat from getting in, I was rejoicing in the fact that I didn't need to have my coat on when I went out at night. There was not even a smidgen of a chance that I would need it. 106 degrees will do that to you.

But other than that time, I am usually cold. And when I am cold, it takes me a loooonngg time to get warm. This is the reason that I always have to take a shower right before I go to bed; it warms me up so that I can go to sleep. Otherwise I will lay there for an hour, wishing that my feet would get warm.

So, I'm casting my vote for Jacob. Even though he is a werewolf and has some serious authority issues. Warmth trumps everything.

Weird Things

You know when something weird happens? And half of you is like, "what just happened?" and the other half of you is like, "I need to go tell someone about this right now, because it was SO WEIRD."

Yeah.

That happens to me a lot.

That's probably why I have this blog. Because now when weird things happen, I can write about them, just in case there isn't anyone around to tell.

Ideally, there would always be someone with me who completely understood my sense of humor and who could appreciate the exact same weird situations that I do. But that doesn't usually happen. Sometimes it does, though! Like on Wednesday, I was leaving choir with my friend, and we saw this trash can shaking back and forth. Shaking, yes that's right. Shaking. And then... A squirrel leaped (leaped!) from the trash can clutching a piece of half eaten pizza in its squirrel jaw! And it was terrifying. We laughed for three minutes straight.

Other times, there is no one around. So I write about it. Or, I don't write about it. Things are weird lately.

Not Meant to Be Creepy

Old men talk to me a lot. In the grocery store, in coffee shops, at the bus station... Everywhere. Lately:

I am sitting in Taste in downtown Spokane, waiting to board my Greyhound bus to Portland. As per usual, I have a book ("Invisible Man" for my lit class). I am reading it peacefully, sitting on one of those tall stools that line the window counters, eating my almond croissant and drinking coffee from a burnt-orange mug. Also watching the construction workers jackhammer a big hole in the street.

Two oldish men walk in, and one of them instantly comes over to men and asks me what I'm reading (Tangent: I really dislike being asked what I'm reading. Unless it's something really intelligent and literary. Which, 95% of the time, it is not). I told him, and then he told me that it is "great to see young people reading. Keep up the good work, young lady!" And we had a lovely little conversation.

Also:

I am walking into Rocket Bakery (the Sprague one). I am wearing boots that, I'll admit it, look like they should be worn by a Stormtrooper. Yes, they are a bit eye-catching (because, as I said, they look like they should be worn by a STORMTROOPER. Or a go-go dancer. Both good things...) Before I can walk through the door, this old man stops me and comments on my boots. But he doesn't stop there. He follows me back into the bakery and then asks the girl at the counter what she notices about me.

"Ummm... nothing?" she says.

"Her boots! Her boots!" says the old man gleefully.

The barista girl and I both titter awkwardly. And then the he leaves.