The Hunger Games

by Suzanne Collins

After recent completion of the Hunger Games series, I thought I'd write a super long sort of triple review of the series, starting with The Hunger Games. Enjoy.

The Hunger Games

If you read a lot or you watch plenty of movies or you've been alive since at least 2008, you've probably heard of the Hunger Games, but the short synopsis is this: Katniss Everdeen, an avid hunter from futuristic North America—known as Panem in the books—joins twelve other children between the ages of twelve and eighteen when she volunteers to take her sister's place in Panem's annual Hunger Games—a televised event in which two tributes from each of Panem's twelve districts compete against each other in a fight to the death (most likely a run on sentence). I've been looking for a book like this for a long time. A book where kids kill each other? No, silly. A book that made me crave to read more of it, a book that I couldn't put down, a book that, kind of like Harry Potter, is geared toward all ages of people, so I can share it with my mom and my grandma and my younger sister—not too young though, as there are some rather violent deaths. I really love the way Suzanne Collins writes, too, just enough backstory to be insightful but not annoying, enough action to drive the plot, and plenty of new twists to make the story intriguing without be a soap opera. Another thing I loved about this book was that Katniss, to me, was a real person. In a lot of the science fiction/dystopian stories that I've read (not that my knowledge of this genre is very deep, sorry), the protagonists are doing not feeling, or the world that has been created for them is such a stretch from our world today that the human qualities of the person don't seem very human. But Katniss was a sixteen-year-old girl, really, who was excited when her makeup looked good and who tried to sort out her feelings about the boys in her life. So great book, loved the ending, didn't necessarily see the tie-in between The Hunger Games and Catching Fire, though. I thought there was just enough closure for the book to stand alone and be great, and that's one thing that really put a damper on my Hunger Games experience. I was going to read Catching Fire regardless, but I'm not sure what twist was supposed to entice me into to it.

Happy winter! ☃☃☃☃☃ - 5/5

ALERT: If you haven't finished The Hunger Games, the first one, don't read on, don't even read the inside cover of Catching Fire because you will be spoiled and then you'll cry. Stop it. Don't even peek.

Catching Fire

In the second installment of the series, Katniss and Peeta go on their victory tour to all twelve districts of Panem and Panem's capital, which would be all fine and dandy if it weren't for rumored uprisings in the districts and threats from Panem's president Snow: feign your love for Peeta to quell the rebellions of the other districts or there'll be trouble. Every twenty five years in Panem there is an especially horrible Hunger Games known as the Quarter Quell. This year is the third Quarter Quell, how lucky. The surprise of this book happens near the middle, so there's not a whole lot I can say about the actual plot without spoiling it. All of the books are divided into three parts, and I loved the first part of this book especially. By taking Katniss back home and showing her new life there after winning the Hunger Games, I was really impressed by how fleshed out more of the characters, like Gale and his family, Peeta, and Haymitch became. I feel that by elaborating both the stories of Peeta and Gale, we kind of see her vacillate her feelings toward both of them. Something that I especially enjoyed was that Peeta was so understanding of Katniss and her situation and didn't stay mad at her forever. That could have turned quickly annoying and they both really need each other as friends. Plus Peeta is just one of those kind and forgiving people. Again, while this book is primarily a young adult book, anyone can read it and enjoy.  Even though there was no real thing that drew me from one book to the next, no unexpected ending or cliffhanger in the Hunger Games, this book was still amazing, and its ending certainly made me want to read more.

☃☃☃☃☃ - 5/5

WARNING: If you have not read Catching Fire or The Hunger Games, don't read on because it's pretty spoilerific. If you do, your mother is going to spank you, so don't. Just don't. Press that little back arrow or that exit button, go read the book, and don't spoil it for yourself, you goober.

Mockingjay

After the huge cliffhanger in Catching Fire and after District Twelve is demolished by the Capitol, Katniss finds out that she has unknowingly been a part of the rebels' plan before she even set foot in the arena at the Quarter Quell. Now residing in the underground city of District Thirteen, Katniss is Panem's "mockingjay," the face of the rebel force. The rebels are using her—as well as other victors from previous Hunger Games, the ones that participated in the Quell alongside her—to create propaganda which is aimed at the rest of Panem and that will hopefully instill the rebellion in the eleven other districts. This wasn't my favorite book in the series, to be blunt. Not that there was anything glaringly wrong with it, it just wasn't my favorite. There are a lot of things happening in Mockingjay. Very fast-paced, one thing after another and another, and I think that, as a last book, there should be action, but I would have liked to have dwelled a little bit more on Katniss's mum and her sister. After all, Prim is the reason she volunteered to be a tribute in the games in the first place and the one thing that drives Katniss to success, and I don't feel like we got to know Prim nearly enough. Something specific that I thought was really good was that Haymitch considers Katniss and Peeta family. That was really touching, especially since he really has no one. Although the book is more about the things that are happening as opposed to the people involved—and there are certainly a lot of new people and names, gosh, I bad at  remembering names—the things that happen are still as rich and intriguing as the other two books. The ending I found rather unusual and very quick, but I honestly had no idea what to expect except that there would be a twist, and Collins did not disappoint. Overall, I'm very happy with the way the story unfolded. And it's kind of random, but I like how everyone in Panem has an unusual name. I guess their names don't sound weird to them, but I like how the names fit the dystopian aspect of the book, similar to how the names in Harry Potter are all very fantastical. Putting a rating on this book is kind of a moot point, because if you've read the other two books you can decide for yourself whether or not you're going to read Mockingjay, but . . .

☃☃☃☃ - 4/5
happy last day of 2011

The Best Noses

Pinocchio

Rudolph

Samantha

Cyrano de Bergerac

There's also this wonderful Steve Martin nose speech. Try and ignore the fact that whoever uploaded this spelled "something" wrong.

Christmas Cheer

Oh by golly have a holly jolly Christmas this year.




Recipe: Really Awesome Cookies (as named by myself)

• 1 egg white
• 1/3 c. sugar
• 1/2 c. semisweet chocolate chips (though it's recommended you put in more)
• opt. 1/2 c. chopped pecans
• a beater

Okay, yule need to place the egg white in a small mixing bowl, and let it stand at room temperature for thirty minutes. Then beat the egg white on medium speed until soft peaks form . Gradually beat in the sugar 1T at a time on high until stiff peaks form. Fold in chocolate chips and pecans.

Drop by rounded teaspoonfuls 2" apart on parchment paper-lined baking sheets. Bake at 250° for 40-45 minutes or until firm to the touch. Turn oven off, and let cookies dry in the oven for 1½ hours. Carefully remove cookies from parchment paper. Store in airtight container. Yield: about 1½ dozen.

I knitted a scarf for my Grandma. Apparently her friends all compliment her when she wears scarves by Sammie. I must admit they are pretty darling ;)

I used this beaded garland and a few pendants to primp this chandelier.

Tiny poinsettias. 

Our dining room table is about a mile long, but only has a few chairs, so we had to pull seats from every other table in our house.

Our beastly tree.

Keeping alive the traditions of my family's french ancestry, we set out wine and cheese as well as milk and cookies for Santa this year. Unfortunately I don't have a picture—because Santa ate and drank everything. . . .

Christmas Wish: ACHIEVED . . . The other day I was thinking about how I really need a friend named Dorian because Dorian is just the most awesomest name then what to my wondering eyes should appear but this email:

Petrafing Draco Malfoy

Since the last million of my blog posts have been about final examinations—which is honestly the most boring topic in the galaxy—I've made an executive decision to change things up a bit. Plus, ya know, finals are over now.

I was doing the average pre-Christmas room cleaning, when I stumbled upon two books. Cleaning is boring and being sentimental is fun, so I spent half an hour being sentimental instead of cleaning. Thus, the bed of rooms is still very messy.

 The first thing I found was that Katherine and I wear the same glasses. It's pretty hard to tell from this picture, but I swear they look alike. I went for the stylin' charm eggplant color when I picked these rockin' frames out two years ago.

Book number two is one that I recie—(i before e except after c) . . . received when I was a wee lass in second grade. It's the Harry Potter Hogwarts Journal that I bought at the dollar store for like five dollars. Maybe you've seen it before in stores, but if you don't know what I'm talking about, the cover looks like this:

Oh gosh, I remember loving this thing. Here are some of my favorite pages:

A map of Hogwarts. As you can see, the common rooms are all in the corners of the castle with cleverly labeled "B" dormitories for boys and "G" dormitories for girls. The Quidditch pitch is on the right side there, and next to the Slytherin common room is the Whomping Willow. I would call this an exact if not almost exact replica of Hogwarts.

Secrets wishes of Hogwartians. Freedom for house "elfs," Hermione. Better memory, Neville. Playing Quidditch, Dean and "Simus" (I'm assuming it's Seamus we're talking about here). Being in Gryffindor, Cho Chang. Be with Cho, Cedric Diggory. Be a muggle, Luna Lovegood. Why does Luna want to be a muggle? Beats me.

This is just a simple picture of the Hogwarts houses and their colors. Apparently Hufflepuff is now orange and white and their mascot is the dog. The puli to be specific.

This is a picture I drew of standard Hogwarts attire. Most wizards do have obscenely long torsos and short legs. I love their elfish clogs, too. I have to admit, though, that that owl is pretty adorable.

Fun stuff: Petrafing Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. I can only assume I mean petrifying.

Most definitely my favorite of them all, I think this picture speaks for itself. Tell Percy he's fat. Even as a little kid I was a beast with the insults. (Ya-hoo.)

Also in my Hogwarts journal was a list where I listed everyone I knew and sorted them into Hogwarts houses. Coincidentally every boy I liked in the second grade (ah, the steamy second grade crushes I had) ended up in Gryffindor. But that's way too embarrassing to show pictures of.

If it were UP2U I'd go the EXTRA mile and ORBIT the globe

It is amazing how much lighter a backpack becomes after you clean a semester's worth of $%^& out of it. Let's just say it's a good thing I'm not planning on being the next Martha Stewart—or something else that requires extreme organization.

Those French flash cards are for the technology unit. It's frustrating to have to learn the french words for things like "diskette" and "cassette."

The Room to Brain Correlation and the Brain to Blog Post Correlation

Maybe it's just me—most likely just me—but my room usually reflects my current mental state. On any normal day it'll have a normal amount of disorganization, but during finals week its explosively horrifying. I guarantee that the first day of break it'll be back to normal again, when my stress levels have lowered. Actually from here on out I have pretty easy finals: Band, English, and—well Trig will probably be awful but at least I got most of the hard ones out of the way up front. Finals also hinder my ability to stay on topic regarding anything, so this blog post is, like, four combined into one.

Parlez vous français? Oui oui!

In eighth grade my french teacher had a sweating problem and in ninth grade my french teacher was legally blind and couldn't hear a lick of anything and this year my french teacher is pretty good, but I still really hate french class.

Here are a few phrases that I do enjoy though:

• S'est blockée! Imagine jumping around and screaming that when the school's overly protective internet censoring system won't let you on a website.
• Sondage. A survey? I don't know; it has a nice ring to it.
• Je ne sais pas! Quelle est la date? Je ne sais pas. Tu s'appelle comment? Je ne sais pas. Vous êtes un con! Je ne sais pas.
• Oh mon Dieu. SACREBLEU! Actually instead of oh my goodness, I've started saying oh mon Dieu a lot.

I've even noticed that a few weird words have replaced themselves in my mind. Like, I don't even think of the English word first. These include le paysage and les filles. No reason in particular, just weirdness.

Whilst browsing the tubes of you, I found this regarding when THE WORLD WILL END:

Oh Youtube, you know exactly how to make my day. By the way, my calendar ended on the thirty-first of December of 2004, so I don't think we have too much to worry about, because I haven't died yet.

I just finished reading Along for the Ride by Sarah Dessen. This is my second consecutive Sarah Dessen book and the second book I've red where the protagonist's parent is an author. For some reason writers who write about writers weird me out.

A paradox . . . Answer truthfully "yes" or "no" to the following question: will the next word you say be "no"? Uhmmmmmmmmmmm, no.


Have a fun friday, though there are only thirty minutes of it left.

FINALly

Finals have arrived. I can't wait until they're final-ly over. In Chemistry I'm getting an 89%. This is intense. Fortunately the 102% that I'm getting in my computer class guarantees that I can not show up at all for that final and still make it out with an A.

Cheating Cheaterpants and Other Ramblings

Cheating is a bad thing, kiddies. But more on that later—

I have an addiction . . . to gum. It's slender bendy stick can be chewed for hours, like a gift that just keeps on giving. Instead of cigarettes or alcohol or cheeseburgers I'll just go chew some gum, thanks. I especially enjoy the Mentos variety that come in that tiny tube and look like tiny eggs.

On a disgusting note, I have an ear pimple, which is strange because my teenage pimpliness isn't even too awful. It makes wearing headphones a terror.

It's an unseasonably warm winter here. That's code word for rain. Lots and lots of rain.

And lastly, I got cheated on. Or rather, someone copied my chemistry test answer for answer. Not. Cool. I have no moral compass when it comes to copying homework, but since I'm a slight hypocrite, I got really peeved about this person copying my test answers. And getting caught. Idiot. I don't which is dumber, that he or she copied my answers exactly the same or that he or she chose me to copy off of. If I were going to copy the test answers of someone, I would at least make sure to copy from someone who excelled in Chemistry.

In other Chemistry news, today we made Chemis-tree ornaments by mixing together some liquids. They're pretty adorable. At least mine is. ;) It's a clear flask coated in silver on the inside and with polka dots and ribbony cuteness on the outside. Excuse my dirty carpet, it's kind of gross.

The moral of the story is don't cheat on tests and don't get caught and wash your ears and recycle because global warming's a comin' and don't get addicted to gum not that it's particularly bad as far as addictions go and don't have sex because you will get pregnant and you will die.

T'is the Season . . .

T'is the season to reread books. And all that "be jolly fa-la-la-la-la la-la la-la" crap. One of my favorite December traditions is one that I established last year. (How many consecutive years does it take for something to become a real tradition? Survey says—two.) December is national reread some books month in my household—or yours, should you choose to accept the quest.

Starting too many new things around finals is just way too overwhelming, and since Christmastime is cheery and sentimental anyway, I love rereading books that I've already read (redundancy fail) just for fun. On my list this year is Along for the Ride by Sarah Dessen (I've been having a Sarah Dessen itch lately), The Hunger Games (I might finally finish them all), and maybe even Harry Potter.

Important Information that Everyone Should Know.

I've been in high school for a while now. I'm qualified to hand out this valuable information.

1. Best friends aren't a necessity. Friends that will let you copy their homework are.

• 1B. Homework is public property. Not letting someone borrow it is like not letting someone use that plastic lounge chair at the pool—meanie. I'll let you borrow my french sentences whenever you want as long as I can copy your electron configurations.

2. Cramming for finals is all right. There is no reason for you to know what trisomy 21 is beyond the last day of school, unless you're going to be a microbiologist—then it would be pretty important, I guess.

3. Learn how to sleep with your eyes open AND/OR grow really long bangs. It'll come in handy.

• 3B. Look interested and you won't be called on.

4. Become a great schmooze. Perfect the little half-smile, apologetic puppy dog eyes, and quiet voice, and you can get away with practically anything. Late for class? "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! My locker was jammed!" Seriously showed up ten minutes late for class the other day and didn't even get a tardy.

stumpin' it

I live in an urban area that was long, long ago an orchard. Now it's packed with bunches of houses and streets, but the place still has about a million old trees. They're everywhere and they're old decrepit trees prone to falling down if a storm gets 'em just so.

Sometimes, it's cheaper to, instead of getting the entire tree and stump removed from the ground, just carve the stump into a peace of art. And thus stumpin' has become somewhat of a norm here . . .

The statues in my city aren't as cool as these.

Ah, the horror!

I'm not sure if you can tell, due to my camera's utterly crappy performance in grocery store scenarios, but that says, "red cans turn white to help protect the polar bear's home." Either Coca Colans are so selfish that they are only protecting one polar bear's home this holiday season, or they made a serious error . . .

Happy December

Bah humbug, Christmas isn't even until the end of December. Why is there Christmas music in the stores as soon as the Halloween decorations have been cleared out? I absolutely hate starting the Christmas season before Thanksgiving.

But now that's it's December first, the Christmas season can officially begin (because I totally get to decide that). Time to whip out the decorations, start baking cookies, buy all your presents, or do whatever crazy traditions you do this time of year.

Gah! The adorableness is overwhelming me.

I've Got a Passion in My Pants and I Ain't Afraid to Show It

Just add "in your pants" to any book title.

Looking for Alaska in your pants

And Then There Were None in your pants

The Tempest in your pants

The Secret Garden in your pants

Great Expectations in your pants

An Abundance of Katherines in your pants

Uglies in your pants

The Power of Six in your pants

Let it Snow in your pants

Where the Sidewalk Ends in your pants

Oh, the Places You'll Go! in your pants

Along for the Ride in your pants

Holes in your pants

The Unbearable Lightness of Being in your pants

I'm sorry.

The Duel of the Dexters

 

I don't know that I've ever read a book about someone named Dexter. Unlike Jack or Sam or John or James or Will, Dexter isn't a name that every male protagonist or deuteragonist goes by. And while I have dexterity (that's me being punny) at reading multiple books I once, I can tell you with great certainty that I have never simultaneously read two romances about two Dexters. Quite confusing.

Let's start with This Lullaby. It's the typical Sarah Dessen formula: smart girl with some sort of problem (pregnancy, weight issues, relationship troubles, abusive family, abusive boyfriend, can't ride a bike) meets swoon-worthy guy, romance ensues, and happy ending roll credits. It's a formula I don't necessarily like in large amounts, but every once in a while I get the itch. This time around it's Remy Starr, who goes through boyfriends like they're sticks of gum, and Dexter Jones, a dirt-poor, klutzy musician, who isn't Remy's type. At. All. Wink wink nudge nudge poke poke. I like this one. Not my favorite, but Sarah Dessen is always good.

Then there's One Day. It literally is about the same day, July fifteenth, across a span of twenty years. Advice: do not devour. This book was a hefty undertaking, at least for little old me. Perhaps it was the massive amount of time that the story spanned across, but I couldn't do it in one afternoon, or even a week. Like This Lullaby, it's a romantic story centered around Emily Morley, an aspiring writer, and Dexter Mayhew, who's aspiring to be something of course. It's not an easy relationship; they never are. A series of missed and taken opportunities outline their lives and weave their stories together. The only thing I disliked about this story was Dexter for, like, the first half of the book.

Two good books, two Dexters, and a recommendation that, if you haven't already, you read these in the summer, not fall-ish winter, like I just did.

So in the battle of the Dexters, who wins? I think I'll stick with clumsy musician Dexter. But if we're comparing books, I think I like One Day just a smidgen more.

In other news maybe it's just Anne Hathaway's accent or the Disney-style narration, but from just watching the trailer, this movie seems awesomely cheesy/horrid. Sorry Anne, I like you and all but the accent needs fixing, plus Emma is supposed to have red hair. Still, I foster an abnormal affection for the awesomely cheesy/horrid, so I'll probably watch it in a few weeks or months or whenever someone puts it on Youtube.

Update: Not pretending that I know anything about movies, but this one was so cute, especially toward the end.

The Intelligence of the Nine-Year-Old: The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

When I first saw The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, I had no clue what it was about, only that the back cover claimed it wasn't a book for nine-year-olds. Being a non-nine-year-old, I picked it up, kept it on my to-read list for a month or so, and finally got around to reading it about a week ago. While the subject matter is definitely for the oldsters—most likely middle graders or teenagers—the actual technical writing is very repetitive and very childlike.

It's written from the point of view of a nine-year-old boy named Bruno, who lives in Berlin during World War II and the Holocaust. There are plenty of Holocaustal stories that are about the oppressed, but this one is about the oppressing side, the Nazi party, which had the potential to be a very interesting story.

 Though I understand that it is a book that is supposed to be story of a young, innocent bystander, I can't justify Bruno's lack of basic critical thinking skills and inability to correctly hear German words, even though he and everyone around him speaks German. Auschwitz is "Out-With" and Führer is "The Fury." Seriously? Basically, Bruno's an idiot, and his thirteen-year-old sister ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer either.

On a bit of a side note, I found it funny that there is a version with the English spelling, "Pyjamas," and the American spelling, "Pajamas." Being from the United States myself, I got the "Pajamas" copy, but none of the other English spellings (i.e. metre, favourite, programme, tyre) were Americanized. So someone had to go through and change all the "pyjamas" to "pajamas" for no good reason at all.

Also I learned something new about Irish/British/insert-country-here punctuation. They write their quotations marks opposite. For example:

US: "She asked me, 'do you like apples?' and I said I did," explained Sally.

UK: 'She asked me, "do you like apples?" and I said I did,' explained Sally.

Maybe this is something everyone knew already, and I'm just being dull. But hey, I learn somethin' new every day.

Maysurements

I come from a part of the world where some people call it meh-surements and others may-surements. A place where centimeters and millimeters aren't unheard of, but their prefixes are usually attached to some sort of pede. I come from a place where most people (including myself) couldn't name every unit of measurement—pica, point, gill, minim, calorie, bushel, barrel, peck, teaspoon, tablespoon, monspoon, what? And despite my second grade training on the matter, I probably can't tell you how many ounces are in a cup are in a pint are in a quart are in a gallon. (Actually a cup is eight ounces, a pint is two cups, a quart is two pints, and a gallon is four quarts, but that's just me being an insufferable know-it-all.) And it's so easy to confuse ' and " if you're not sure which is feet and which is inches.

It's simple to screw up when calculating things using American measurements, since nothing is the same and nothing is based on powers of ten. Yeah, I can tell you that my pencil is four and seven eighths inches long, but no I do not know the decimal that corresponds with 7/8 off the top of my head.

My biggest qualm with the American system of measurement is that it makes conversion factors a beast. Having to stretch myself even translating feet to inches, it's even harder to translate calories to kilojoules, or pints to grams, or feet to decimeters.

I recommend we go standard, America. I think you'll find that meters and moles aren't so bad once you get acquainted.

P.S. Fun fact: You actually need around two million calories a day. The measurements on food labels aren't real calories, they're kilocalories, or 1,000 real calories. The cake really is a lie—it's actually 340,000 calories, not the 340 it claimed to be. This means Michael Phelps eats an average of twelve million calories per day. Like a boss.

Well Dearie, It Seems Like Forever Ago

That I wrote anything here. But you know mid-November is prime time for teachers trying to cram in extra work and such before the big (though four days is hardly enough to be considered big) Thanksgiving break.

Today I just want to be bleh and totes mcgotes judge multiple books by their covers. Here are some of my favorites:

I love all the covers of Deborah Wiles's books. So pretty.

Potentially my favorite book cover ever.

Dont ask me why on this one. A lot of people can't even stand the book. I happen to like both the cover and the inside of it.

That's enough work for today.