Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Today, I spent almost 10 hours reading one book series.

This entire odyssey started out some time last week, when I decided to read "Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief", before the movie came out on Saturday, February 12th. So I read the book.

And got insanely hooked. Like, crack cocaine hooked.

It was bad. I couldn't put the book down.

I saw the movie afterwards, and it was great, but of course, the book is almost always better (except you, "Coraline").

Having realized there was more than one book, I, naturally, had to know more. So I borrowed the second one, as I had done the first, from a friend who conveniently had all five. Talk about enabling. If awesome books were drugs, I would give the local narcotics unit a run for its money.

Saturday. WHOOSH! Second one, gone!

Sunday. BAM! There went the third one.

Monday. Conveniently, it's a holiday. And I had little homework. The fourth and fifth book, in their hardcover glories, never saw it coming.

And now I'm done, left grieving the fact that one of my favorite characters has, as normal in my world, died, and that the book series is over, but at the same time, getting teary eyed at the awe I have for Rick Riordan and his inventiveness and prose. His writing and his world melded perfectly into my idea of what a great fiction writer is. It was like Pixar, in book form.

Basically, go buy/borrow/scan the web for a copy as soon as you can. You won't be let down.

I think one reason I am so completely and ridiculously in love with this series, however, is because it had the ability that all books have: it submerged me in a world where the impossible happens, and I utterly and entirely bought it. The story drew me in like the mention of free food for college kids. One promise of greatness, and I was there. And it delivered.

There are a few great books/book series that I can remember getting almost possessed by; ones that I HAD to finish reading as fast as I can OR I WOULD DIE (caps for emphasis, though perhaps because that's how it feels, too). A few of these series, in no particular order:

1. Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan
2. The Looking Glass trilogy by Frank Beddor (still need to read the 3rd book, but more than ready to!)
3. The Sword, The Ring, The Chalice by Deborah Chester
4. The Grave Book by Neil Gaiman

I love to read, and yes, I realize that most of those are fantasy/sci-fi/heavy fiction. But I love it. I love love love it.

Mostly because it helps me imagine that I can make a difference in the world. Sometimes, you feel so small, that you have to realize that even a seemingly insignificant person can accomplish something great. I mean, the main character in "The Grave Book" is named Nobody - you can't get more blatant than that with the point!

But it's the epic tales, the ones that have no chance of ever actually forming, that make my heart soar, my soul leap, and all those other cliches mostly pertaining to love come true.

I love a good story. I love a good hero. I love it when people who turn bad turn back to good. I love when you get an answer to that unanswerable question. I love when an ordinary person gains an extraordinary ability. And all of those rarely happen in a world that is not two-dimensional and filled with words on paper.

I don't know how many other people feel this way after reading a great book, but you come down from a sort of word-induced high. You feel like crying, something so moved you, even if you're half wondering why you feel like that. And more than anything, for a brief, flickering moment, you think: perhaps it's all true? NEV-AH! Shouts Reason, and there you are, left holding a book, tears in your eyes, wondering "what if?" and realizing you should probably do something productive since you have class tomorrow (like write a blog post...).

Yet at the same time, you feel as if you've left a tiny portion of you within the pages of that book. Something connected, and both of you left a mark on each other - even if the mark you left is the stain from eating salsa while reading. And while it's saddening to think you can never experience that world in that book as a newcomer again, you leave with the knowledge that you have.

I know quite well why it is probably better that the world isn't filled with Greek gods, heroes, kids with ghostly powers, dragons, and events that catapult people into extraordinary positions of power. But sometimes, I'll admit, I wish they did. Life would have clearer white and black boundaries. I'd love to be a hero, or someone who had a distinguishing feature or power, or even someone who is normal and appears last second to save the day almost unknowingly. Yet the truth is, I'm not, and never will be, in the sense that these books inspire in me. And I can accept that.

But it's still with a heavy heart tonight that I go about business as usual, doing last minute forgotten homework assignments (putting off last minute forgotten homework assignments) and getting ready for my eventual meeting with bed.

Today, I spent almost 10 hours reading one book series.

And it was glorious.

We Might Need A Bigger Steak

An old Grandfather said to his grandson, who came to him with anger at a friend who had done him an injustice... "Let me tell you a story."

"I too, at times, have felt great hate for those who have taken so much, with no sorrow for what they do. But hate wears you down, and does not hurt your enemy. It's like taking poison and wishing your enemy would die. I have struggled with these feelings many times. "

"It is as if there are two wolves inside me; one is good and does no harm. He lives in harmony with all around him and does not take offense when no offense was intended. He will only fight when it is right to do so, and in the right way."

"But...the other wolf... ah! The littlest thing will send him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all of the time, for no reason. He cannot think because his anger and hate are so great. It is helpless anger, for his anger will change nothing."

"Sometimes it is hard to live with these two wolves inside me, for both of them try to dominate my spirit."

The boy looked intently into his Grandfather's eyes and asked, "Which one wins, Grandfather ?"

The Grandfather smiled and quietly said, "The one I feed."

Have you ever had moments where nothing seems to be going right, and everything you had planned goes astray, as the famous adage states?

Today is one of those days.

Or, rather, this week has been. School planning is not going well: I can't take this class because it's online, I can't take that class because it's one unit shy of the "normal" math class, and that class isn't offered. For all I know, people are sitting behind the desk at the administrative offices and departments, sniggering as they type out "NO NO NO" into the e-mails they send me. Not that they really type "NO NO NO", but they might as well. It would have the same crushing effect.

And of course, let's look at the fact I have no room assignment yet. Granted, my two majors mean I'll be living on the street anyway with the rest of the city, but I never meant to start now! Good thing the naval base is nearby, as it means I can find a husband quickly if I really need to. My other option is to master the art of cold reading, open up a psychic stand on the beach, and scam people all day long. Beach bum: with a purpose! The final option will always be to live at home until I'm 30.

Let's be realistic though.

It's hard not to be discouraged by things that really shouldn't be so worrisome. Why am I able to freak out over a simple housing assignment, but when it comes to picking up the house a half hour before company is supposed to come over, I'm cool as an ice cube? Maybe it has something to do with which I find easier to deal with. But really, shouldn't both be on a similar level?

It all has to do with how I want to approach the situation, I think. And which reaction I choose to feed.

There's always panic in both, but it's easier to be more panicked over school stuff because there is a larger consequence in my mind. But why? I don't really know. The worst that happens is I'm in school longer.

I guess we freak out over what we see more failure in. Having to go to school for longer is a bigger source of failure for me than not having the house clean, no matter the guest. For others, it's switched. But it's funny how a fear as simple as failure can paralyze us, and even take a toll on us by zapping us of mental and physical energy we need elsewhere. If only we learned to be at peace with the future, to take active part in shaping it, but knowing that things will go better if we're happy and living in peace.

Funny how peace is harder to feed than discontent and panic.

The monster movies make so much more sense now.

If there's one gift I could ask God for, it would be for a bigger piece of metaphorical steak in which to feed the metaphorical wolf of peace inside of me. Why is it so hard to let go of the wrong and the negative and the hurtful and focus on the positive?

Perhaps because we don't want to. We thrive off drama - hence reality television and its stunning popularity. Drama queen could probably apply to a majority of humanity, because, let's face it, we're nosy, and like to know what other people are up to! Especially others failure, as it gives us a bit of an ego boost. Sad but true. None of us can look away when the python swallows the mouse, and we can't look away as things go wrong in someone else's life.

Perhaps that's what I really need - is to learn how to thrive less off drama and more off peace. While the adrenaline of anger gives us a brief high, it also drops us into an equally intense low, and that's when we crash and burn.

I hate the crash and burn. So I need to figure out how to stop before I go up that high. Again, easier to talk about then to do, especially when you're stressed enough to cry, scream, and have your stomach do flips all at the same time.

I don't really have an answer yet. I probably won't for a long time. I'll be 80 and finally have the answer figured out, but won't remember the password to this blog to grant me access to posting it here. That's probably for the better, as I'm guessing it's different for everyone.

For now, all I can do is go to bed, pray, and try not to feed discontent.