Go Ask Alice

“At this stage in my life nothingness is better than somethingness.” 
– narrator, Go Ask Alice

I think most people have felt like that before – that it would be better to give up for a bit. To “stop life and get off,” as the narrator of this novel says. When I was younger, I used to think that maybe I'd grow out of feelings like that - but I must admit that at 20, I still feel like jumping ship sometimes. And I know plenty of adults , including those who are older than I am, feel that way too.

I think that's why we're drawn to stories of struggle - because pain is part of the human experience that we all understand to some extent.

Go Ask Alice is the story of a 15-year-old girl growing up in the 70s. Now, her real name is never actually mentioned, but just for simplicity’s sake, I’ll refer to her as Alice. Alice has just turned 15 and is at the end of yet another school year. Because her only close friend has gone to camp for the summer, Alice decides to visit her grandparents in the town she used to live for the summer months. While visiting, she meets some new friends, but she quickly discovers that they’re not who she thought they were. What started with a game of “Buttons, buttons, who’s got the buttons,” a “game” involving sodas laced with LSD, Alice is hooked, trapped in a downward spiral into drug addiction. Severe drug addiction. For an entire year, it sends her running around the country in search of her next fix and a new place to belong.

While intriguing on its own, I think the most interesting aspect of the novel is that it’s written as a personal diary. There has been debate over whether or not this is an actual diary (the editor claims it is, but the public is skeptical), but the voice, tone, and language all reflect what you would expect to find in the secret diary of a young teenager.

For as long as I can remember, journaling is something I’ve done to keep me sane; I have journals dating back to first grade, and I still keep one today (though there never seems to be enough time to write in it as much as I’d like). I’ve never shared my journals with anyone, and in all honesty, I don’t think I ever will. Journaling is such a deeply intimate experience. Most of the time, empty pages are easier to talk to than people. Within journals, we can actually say what’s on our minds instead of editing our thoughts for presentation to others. We can work though issues, express ourselves, figure things out.

I think that’s why I found Go Ask Alice so fascinating. We are seeing the uncut thoughts of a girl grappling with a life of addiction when we read. We are in her head completely; all we get to hear is her side, her story, her pure, honest emotions. We are helpless observers of Alice’s cyclical addiction and loss of innocence.

If you journal - WHY do you journal? Is it because you feel like you don't have anyone to talk to? Do you feel like you can only be completely honest with yourself and that piece of paper? Are you nervous or scared to talk about it?
Maybe you feel like no one - not even you - understands exactly what you're going through and you just need time to figure it out?

Somewhat surprisingly, Alice’s family is wonderfully supportive throughout her entire struggle. Sure, they don't completely understand what she's going through (because no one really can without being in the other person's shoes), but Alice runs away from home more than once, only to be welcomed back with open arms by her family each time. I mean - she left her family in total darkness, and felt like she didn't deserve her family because they were being so great - but despite this, they still cared. They still loved her.

I think this shows two things:
1.  You don't have to come from a "rough and tough" background or home life to go through things like this.
2.The support you may find within your family system (or anywhere, really- like school) may surprise you.

Here's a puppy - please smile!

I feel like a common misconception is that anyone with a "problem" can blame that problem on something that happened to them when they were growing up. You know - the old Freudian "blame it on the parents" bit. I guess that can be true sometimes - but sometimes things just... happen. Life happens and there's no real way to place blame - not like blaming solves anything anyway.
Sometimes if people think they "don't have a reason" for feeling bad about life, they then feel guilty about feeling bad - and that just makes anything worse. People make them feel like they have "no right" to feel the way that you do.
That is NOT the case. Like my old teacher said "there is no need to ever apologize for feelings." You can't help what you feel, and it's really not your fault. Your feelings are just as valid as someone who's had a different past than you have.

Also - give your family a shot. I know sometimes you might feel like they have no idea - but you really can't know for sure until you try.
If you're right, and they're not supportive (or they're the cause of your misfortune), keep trying with other people. Go to an extended family member or a teacher or a best friend who can help you find help.
Someone will help you. You just can't give up.

Like I said in the Everybody Sees the Ants post, no matter what you're going through you ARE worth the help. You don't deserve to be feeling like poop.
Try. It just takes one sentence.
“I need you.”

Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes

Chris Crutcher

“There is no need to ever apologize for feelings. Deserved or not, feelings are real reactions to the happenings around us. They can change over time, but they are still real.” 
– Mrs. C, my 8th grade English teacher

I’m not really sure why, but ever since I was little, I’ve looked up to teachers more than any other adults in my life. Maybe it’s just because we spend so much time in school as kids that we grow to look up to teachers as second parents – or something – but teachers, whether they realized it or not, were my role models in every sense of the word growing up. Some impacted me more than others, and some for good or bad, but every single one taught me something. Freshman year of high school, Mr. B made me cry during Honors World History and proceeded to laugh about it, helping me realize that some adults never really grow up. Before that though, in eighth grade, I had Mrs. C. Without her, I probably wouldn’t be alive.

When I read the focus novel of this post, Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes, I found myself constantly thinking about Mrs. C and our relationship.

You see - Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes is a novel that revolves around two friends, Eric and Sarah; they were very close friends in elementary in middle school, but since high school has started, they’ve grown apart. They used to bond over the fact that they were social outcasts of sorts – Eric was a chubby, awkward kid and Sarah has burns over a majority of her body from a childhood accident. Once the two reached high school, though, Eric started to grow into his chubbiness and make friends; Sarah fell to the wayside. Their senior year, Sarah ends up in a mental institution where she refuses to talk to anyone. Eric visits Sarah daily at the hospital and tries to figure out what has happened to her. As more of Sarah’s story develops, Eric finds himself turning to one if his teachers, Mrs. Lemry, for guidance. Mrs. Lemry ends up sacrificing a lot personally and taking a handful of risks to do what she can to help her students. She even takes Sarah under her wing and keeps her safe when the time calls for it. It’s hard to explain exactly how much Mrs. Lemry did for Sarah and Eric without giving away huge plot points of the novel, but trust me that it was big – matters of life and death big.

Now – maybe not all teacher-student relationships in your life have been this... intense... but I'm sure that each one of you reading have at least one teacher that sticks out in your mind as someone who changed your life for the better.

Teachers are like surrogate parents for most of us when we're growing up; I mean, we do spend just as much if not more time in school than we do in hour homes. I think it's natural for us to gravitate towards teachers as role models, or people we grow to trust.

Teachers went into the teaching career for a reason. They either really love the subject they're teaching or they love kids and want to make a difference. Whatever the reason behind going in to teaching, in choosing to be a teacher, each teacher adopted a pledge to be an advocate for every student he or she comes across. So - technically - every teacher should be there for you. Then again, there are always those teachers who go above and beyond. You know, the ones who go out of their way to help out or actually notice that you're having a bad day and ask about it?

That's what Mrs. C was for me. I had her for 2 classes my entire eighth grade year, so I spent at least an hour and a half around her every day. I'm not even sure what started it, but really soon into the start of the school year, I would go to her classroom like half an hour before the day started and help her set things up or just talk-- and then I'd go there after school too, where we'd talk about random things or work in silence on separate things. She never pried, but she knew something was wrong - that there was a reason that I never wanted to be at home - that something wasn't right. She would smile at me in the halls or in class randomly, or pat my shoulder as she passed. Little things to say, "I'm here." She always told me I could talk to her if I needed to, but I didn't take her up on it then. But just knowing she was there and she cared was enough to keep me going.

Even when I got to high school, and she wasn't technically my teacher anymore, she was still there for me. We e-mailed back and forth and I would come visit at the beginning and end of the school years to help set up and take down her classroom. I didn't know it was her at the time, but my freshman year, she anonymously contacted my guidance counselor at my high school because I had visited and she noticed I had lost like 15 pounds; she knew I had an "eating thing" in the past and was really concerned about me.

My junior year, when everything was happening with Mary's suicide, Mrs. C kept me going. I was upset with her for a while because she had reported me to my high school again out of concern - so I didn't want to talk to her for a few months - but she was always in the back of my mind, pushing me. She cared enough to say something to someone to get me help I desperately needed. She always told me she "wasn't qualified" to talk me through things once they got super serious, but she was the only one I ever really wanted to talk to. She was my motivation to stay alive - I knew she cared about me, and it would hurt her if I was gone.

Even today, when I'm back in my home time, we meet for lunch to catch up. It's bittersweet, really.
I've tried to tell her a few times, but I don't think she's aware of how much she really means to me. She's my role model, my rock, my surrogate Momandbestfriend -- I don't know - my words just don't work.

Maybe that was a round-about way of explaining it - but my teacher saved my life. More than once.
Maybe it's a bit of an extreme example, but -- teachers really do care. Really. Mrs. C isn't the only one out there.
I'm sure you have one of your own in your mind right now.

Sometimes it can be weird trying to talk to a teacher - you worry about being judged or making things weird - but most of them really do care. They want to be there for you. They can help you - or if they can't, they'll help refer you to someone who can.
They're really more observant that you probably think. They notice when you're acting differently than usual. They grow to see you as their own kids in a way.

So try. You don't have to tell them your whole life story, or anything big, really. But you can try to form a comfy relationship. Like Sarah Byrnes, and Eric, and me. Teachers can be more than just your teachers if you want or need them to be.
You have nothing to lose from trying, right?

Looking For Alaska

John Green

John Green has been one of my favorite authors for a while now. I discovered him a few years ago after first finding his vlogs on Youtube. It was weird, finding an author on the internet like that, but when I first read Looking for Alaska as a high schooler, I was hooked. From that first book, I was drawn to John Green’s writing. He writes for “young adults,” yet he never writes down to us like some other YA authors tend to do. He touches on deep topics and has faith that his intended readers will understand what he is trying to say.

Looking For Alaska begins with the main character, Miles Halter, transferring to a new school. We learn right from the start that Miles is a bit of a quirky guy; he excels in school, but he also has the odd obsession of memorizing the last words (literally last words, right before they die) of famous people. Because of this, he really wants to find his "Great Perhaps," as said by Francois Reskjdhg -- a famous poet and author. Miles transfers to this new school, Culver Creek, which also happens to be a boarding school in pretty much the middle of nowhere, in hopes of finding his "great perhaps." At Culver Creek, Miles becomes a part of an odd group of friends that consists of Chip, Miles's roommate; Alaska, the girl Miles has a crush on; and Takumi and Lara, who round out the group. They've flocked together because they're sort of rejects, but because of this, they are strong. Each character has his or her own strengths and weaknesses that are fleshed out throughout the novel and are complimented by the others. They spend most of their time together growing close, pulling pranks, and getting into trouble. Somewhere along the way, Miles is pretty sure he's fallen in love with Alaska, and Miles, for the first time in a long time, is happy.

But one night - Alaska is in a car accident and dies - leaving all of her friends to grieve and wonder if her "accident" was truly was an accident or if she did it to herself. 

Warning: Spoilers Below

As I suspected, finishing Looking for Alaska this time around was emotional; I always get emotionally attached to the books that I read. When I last read Alaska, I was a sophomore in high school, and I remember feeling this intense connection with the book. I think I was fascinated by how much I related to Alaska as a character because it kind of scared me.

I had a rough time in high school. With everything going on at home, most of my time was devoted to trying to distract myself so I wouldn’t have to think about anything bad. I dove in to schoolwork and joined marching band and theater, and between the three, I had little time to let everything that had happened and was happening sink in. Like Alaska, I had become a pro at putting on a good face; I was energetic and funny most of the time. But sometimes I would break and self-destruct; I would show up to rehearsal sobbing or out of nowhere I would have to excuse myself from class to throw up and break down in the bathroom. From time to time I just stopped talking for a few days and was stuck in that state, dragging myself from place to place. Sometimes people would notice and ask me about it, but I would just say, “I’m fine. Just tired” and no one would ask again.

Alaska was like that too. She would break down and have “moody fits” (like Miles called them) out of nowhere, and then refuse to talk about it, the next day pretending like nothing had happened. She had self-destructive tendencies (smoking, drinking, impulsivity, ect.) and I did too, though they were different from hers. We both had trauma in our past that we felt guilty about and ashamed of. We both blamed ourselves for things that were not our fault.

Until this reading of Looking for Alaska, I had convinced myself that Alaska committed suicide. Because I identified with her so much, I had convinced myself of her suicide because it was what I would have done. I hadn’t realized that was the reason until recently.

My junior year of high school, I had a plan. I had a date. I had the pills. I had broken too many times and isolated myself to the point where I thought no one would have noticed if I just poofed away. Then – Mary, a friend I had grown up with, committed suicide. That was when I learned what it was like on the other side of Looking for Alaska – to be grieving like Miles and Chip and the rest of Alaska's friends - and I realized that I couldn't go through with my plan and put others through that. I felt the intense pain of losing someone I once knew and loved. I went through the questions. “Was there anything I could have done?” “Why?” “Where is she now?” And the misplaced blame. “It’s my fault. You should have been in touch with her more often. You could have helped her.” I felt like Miles and Chip. I wanted answers. Answers that, ultimately, I would never find.

The ambiguity regarding Alaska’s death reflects so much of life itself. There will always be unanswered questions - things that can’t be known or understood, no matter how much it pulls on one’s conscious and how much one wants it. Even though it sucks and is one of the hardest things to accept … life goes on. None of us will probably ever understand all we wish we could, but we will survive. 

We can make it though.

Wounds heal over time. They never go away completely. Rather, they become scars that act as faint reminders of the past.
But when those wounds have yet to heal, that can be the toughest - when we can't do anything but cling to those around us and hope, together, the pain can subside.

“When adults say, 'Teenagers think they are invincible' with that sly, stupid smile on their faces, they don't know how right they are. We need never be hopeless, because we can never be irreparably broken. We think that we are invincible because we are. We cannot be born, and we cannot die. Like all energy, we can only change shapes and sizes and manifestations. They forget that when they get old. They get scared of losing and failing. But that part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail.” - John Green

I'll leave these here, just in case. Don't be afraid to call if you need - they're really nice and there to help....
- Crisis Help Line – For Any Kind of Crisis: 1-800-233-4357
- National Adolescent Suicide Helpline: 1-800-621-4000
- Some info about grieving 

Everybody Sees the Ants

A.S. King

"Everybody Sees the Ants originated from an idea that we are all prisoners. An idea that bullying is a widely ignored form of torture. An idea that only we can choose to escape from our own prisons. An idea that no one can take something from us if we don't give it." - A.S. King

Bullying has popped up a lot in the media the past few years; “extreme” cases make the morning news and are the subjects of nighttime specials. This special attention makes parents and the general public think that those covered cases are rare and more extreme than usual, which is why they made the news in the first place. The fact of the matter is that bullying is a lot worse today than adults think. It is overrunning schools, despite efforts to talk about the issue. I remember in middle school they made us sit through movies and presentations all about bullying – entire days and weeks were devoted to "bullying prevention" - as if briefly talking about and putting up silly posters would make it all get better. If anything, I remember it just made things worse for kids like me. Bullies don't respond to interventions like this, because they aren't real interventions; bullies aren't being specifically called out and forced to see the impact their personal actions have on other human beings. They are pretty much given a pass for their behavior and continue on the next day as if nothing ever happened.

In Everybody Sees the Ants, we follow a teenage boy named Lucky (ironic, no?) who has been bullied mercilessly by one of his classmates since he was seven. The bullying has morphed over the years as they've aged - from name calling to physical beating - but the torture is something Lucky has come to accept as a permanent part of his life. He's tried to fight back after telling his parents and school officials, but they've all but written him off saying, “boys will be boys” or “it’s normal” or “I’m sure it’s not that bad.” So Lucky has no choice but to deal with it and find ways to cope; he does so by sleeping often, where he lives through elaborate dreams where he tries to save his Grandfather who went missing in action during the Vietnam War. Lucky stays in this dream world as long as possible because the real world is too much to deal with, and in doing so, the lines between fiction and reality become blurred. When we meet him, he and his mother are essentially fleeing from their problems - Lucky from his bully and his mother from her husband. They go to spend part of the summer with Lucky's uncle, where Lucky realizes that adults are just as (if not more) dysfunctional than kids. A whole bunch of other things happen while visiting the uncle which help to shape all of characters and lead them to life realizations, too (I'm vague on purpose - go read the book!).

I feel like when we're are young, we think adults have all the answers and have everything in general figured out. I know I did. But when serious issues like this are pushed to the side, it just makes us feel even more helpless and alone. In Lucky's case, his parents and school officials were scared to punish the bully because his father was a lawyer and they feared consequences. In my case, adults ignored it because, I assume, they thought it was too much of a hassle to deal with. What about in your case? If adults haven't tried to help, what was their excuse?
Because really - that's what it was - an excuse.

Sometimes adults don’t realize how their actions, no matter how small adults may think they are, can impact kids- especially in the case of bullying. I think it's advanced so much since their time that they don’t really have a clear idea as to what it’s really like. There's so many avenues that bullies can come at you from that there's no way to hide.

Listen: Anyone who makes you feel bad about yourself for being who you are is in the wrong.
You should NOT have to deal with being dehumanized and treated like crap, okay?

In not dealing with the problem, adults - parents, teachers, anyone - are perpetuating the cycle and contributing to it in ways all on their own. These people are supposed to be your advocates - they're supposed to be there for you.

Hold them accountable for their accountability to you.

You're worth it.

I know sometimes bullies can make you think that you're not worth much - but YOU ARE. You are worth the time and effort to make things better for yourself. I swear.

As Lucky's grandpa says in one of his dreams, "The world is full of assholes. What are you going to do to make sure you're not one of them?"
or rather -- what will you do to make sure those assholes don't win?
Don't give up; you're worth it. 

Speak

Laurie Halse Anderson

Speak was the first novel I read for my Young Adult Lit class this semester. My professor gave us a choice between a few "contemporary classics," and I literally ran to sign up for this one before all the spots in the group were filled. I actually tried to read Speak when I was in 8th grade, but I couldn't get through it because it was too triggering for me. I thought I could do it this time around.

Speak isn't a "new" novel by any means -  it was published in 1999 (oh lord, before Y2K) -  but it's still ridiculously relevant. That's what I like about books like these; even if they're nearly 15 years old, they still ring true and touch readers today.

Throughout the novel, we follow a new high school freshman , Melinda. Melinda, I suppose, is an average freshman - awkward, funny, inwardly sassy - but something is slightly off about her. She is completely shunned by her peers, including the group of girls who were her best friend in middle school. We find out that over the summer she "ratted out" a party where under-aged drinking was going on, and quite a few people got in trouble for it. Her peers spit words at her in the hallway, and treat her like crap every single day. Melinda, for the most part, is good at pretending like everything is okay, but because this story is told from her 1st person perspective, we get insight into her mind. Sometimes Melinda will break down out of nowhere  and wonder about how things would be if her peers and family "knew what really happened" at that party. Throughout the novel, Melinda struggles with demons from her past and has to make some difficult decisions to keep going.

Melinda's inner struggle is truly heartbreaking, but I found myself unable to put down the book and abandon her.

Warning: Spoilers Below~

In all honesty, it had been a while since I last read a novel that impacted me like Speak did. I think it just happened to come at a time in my life when I needed it.

Now, whenever I read any book, I always impulsively mark quotes that mean something to me personally. I often find that I am too inarticulate to express my feelings with my own words, but the moment I see that someone else has successfully articulated what I wish I could, I go - "holycrapIneedtomarkthis" and stick post-it notes all over the place.

Maybe sharing a few quotes that I marked and explaining why I connected to them will be a good way to start this blog. Maybe.
I'll try, anyway.

Page 9 - “It is easier not to say anything. Shut your trap, button your lip, can it… Nobody really wants to hear what you have to say.” - Melinda

When I first tried to read Speak in the 8th grade, this is the quote that made me stop reading.
The August before 8th grade started was the first (and last) time I called the police on my father for his abuse. He had been abusive my entire life, so I guess I was used to it, but this was a night where he was particularly violent; he had pinned my sister to her bed with his body and was screaming two inches from her face as he throttled her. I tried to pull him off of her, but I was too little and couldn’t do anything, so I panicked because I thought she was going to suffocate to death, so I sprinted to the phone and impulsively called the police. When they got to our house, my dad lied to them. He said that my sister had attacked him. Despite the fact that there were two sobbing girls in the other room, clearly terrified, talking around the truth of what happened in their "home" every day, the police believed him.
Nothing ever came of that night. No investigation. No follow-up.
Nothing.

That was the first time I had told anyone a little bit of what was happening within those walls.
And it would be the last until I was forced to talk to therapists years later.

Melinda’s thoughts were exactly what I believed during the time I first tried to read Speak. I had tried to use my voice and tell someone what was happening, but I failed. Nothing had changed, and I had never felt more helpless. It was easier just to shut up and try to deal with it on my own than to have my hopes crushed again. If the people who were supposed to be the utmost protectors in life weren’t going to help me, then who would? Nobody. So I just shut my mouth and pretended like everything was great. No one cared anyway, and the last thing I wanted was to be a burden.

Reading Melinda’s words was triggering for me. It made me think of things I had been putting all of my energy into pretending didn’t exist. So – I put the book in the back of my closet and forgot about it until years later.


Page 188 – “I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here. So, how can I find my way? Is there a chain saw of the soul, an ax I can take to my memories or fears?” – Melinda

When I was younger, I always thought that once I escaped my house and left for college, everything in my life would somehow magically get better.
But within the first month of being at school, I was sexually assaulted by someone who I trusted. I wasn’t raped, like Melinda was (that's what happened to her, by the way - don't think I mentioned that yet), but what happened to me is defined as sexual assault.
It was really a big slap in the face. The place where I was supposed to learn how to really live and function became yet another place to fear. I, like Melinda, kept what happened to me to myself. I didn’t tell anyone what had happened until second semester when I fell into seeing a school counselor. I was in such a bad state due to my past and the new trauma that my counselor almost pulled me out of school and sent to the hospital.
Needless to say, it was kind of rough.

I feel like this quote defines me, at this moment. Like Melinda was when she said this, I am just beginning to heal. I’ve been talking to people slowly; my story is unfolding. I can usually function on a day to day basis without reliving the worst moments of my life like a broken record. I realize that there isn't an "axe that I can take to my memories," though.  I’m never going to forget the things that have happened to me, even if I want to. But -- it's scary to think of who I would be without all of these things in my past. Most of the time, I feel like my past defines me; it dominated my life for so long, I'm lost though I'm supposed to be "getting better."
I don't know. I guess I can try to turn crappy life situations into positives, but I have no idea how I’m going to do that. I’m sure as hell going to try though. I survived. I am still here.
I actually want to be here.

I’ll find my way one day (and you will, too). I think it's just a matter of when.

Format

Okay- 

So I figured since I already did a pathetic little introduction thing,  it would probably be a good idea to set up a format of some sort that you can depend on. I don't know about you, but I usually find comfort in structure. (Also, I tend to ramble sometimes, so I feel like I need to keep myself on some sort of leash).

HOLY--- a book!

I suppose I should start off with some "qualifications" that can help classify a piece as YA lit. So you know what to expect, I guess. Believe it or not, this is actually something we debated the first week of class - and it was something that I, personally, had never really thought about. I always just thought of YA lit as YA lit - ya know? (I'm really articulate, can you tell? D: )

As a class, we eventually decided that YA lit can be classified by the following criteria:

• Told through the viewpoint of a young adult with an adolescent voice (angst, anger, emotional – true to life)
• Focuses on characters in that particular age group (around high school age)
• Focused around more advanced and serious topics like violence, sexuality (as opposed to middle school books being about “finding my place in the world”)
• Conflicts are more internal (as opposed to external in middle school lit); often about a character being out of his/her comfort zone or about becoming an adult

I'm sure there are more, but for now, we'll just stick to these, shall we?

With that, in this blog I plan to:

1. Pick a YA book that covers some "tough stuff" and read it
2. Give you guys a brief teaser for the novel at the beginning of an entry
3. Label things with a spoiler warning (because really, who likes being smacked in the face with spoilers?)
4. and then talk about the book as a whole and a lot about feelings and why the book was important and what it meant to me and why and blah blah blah~

I know that for a while  it'll seem like I'm just talking to myself (which I do a lot of normally, to be honest), but it is my hope that people will eventually come here to converse about the issues that these books bring up. I can only hope that my blunt honesty will give you a bit of courage to open up and talk. 

The entire point of this blog is to let readers like you use literature as an ice breaker. -- To talk about things you might normally shy away from mentioning because they're not "normal." To let you know that it's okay to not be okay sometimes. To let you know there is hope even when things suck.

Anything goes here. You will not be shunned for your feelings. You will not be defined by things that have happened to you or things you have done in the past that you are ashamed of.

You will be accepted with open arms here - You are not alone. 

AndIloveyouokaybye. 

Introduction

Welcome

Hello there, Reader!

I've never been good at either "hello"s or "goodbye"s, so I apologize for whatever may ensue. (Also, I apologize a lot. Sorry, get used to it. Derp.)
Anyway~

Hi! My name is Liz, and I'm an English major at a private university in Illinois. Since this already feels like a "it'sthefirstdayofclasssharesomethinginterestingaboutyourselfwiththeclass" thing, I think I'll just nonchalantly mention that I can lick my elbow and bend my body into a human pretzel. It's pretty gross.

But - yes - school - English - literature! Now, I won't lie to you, I originally thought up the idea for this blog as an end of the semester project for one of my favorite classes, Young Adult Literature. The guidelines for the final project were so broad that after having a mini spazz attack over having far too many choices, I thought it could be fun (or perhaps a horrible mistake) to make something that people in the real world might actually use. I know the chances of that happening are pretty low -  but for now, I can pretend... right Non-existent Reader?

Something you must know is that I'm one of the only people in my Young Adult Lit class who chose to be there; most of my peers are education majors who are required to take the class to graduate. I'm just a weirdo 20-year-old who still hasn't "grown out of" the Young Adult genre (though, I could argue that no one ever really "grows out of it," one simply chooses to leave it behind -- but that's a rant for another day).

It probably seems silly, but in the past few years Young Adult lit has gotten me through more rough times than I can count. I mean, I know I'm not the only one who has used reading as a form of escapism or as a crutch when trying to face reality, but either way, no one ever really talks about it - especially when it focuses around "tough stuff," or taboo subjects, or things like that. I don't know about you, but I feel like my entire life has been one craphole after another. The crap has just manifested itself differently from year to year. We all face crap in our lives, especially when we're growing up, but no one ever talks about it -- and it sucks!

So... I'm here. To actually, ya know, TALK about it.
I'm going to read some "tough stuff"-y YA lit and review that YA lit and connect it to my life in hopes that you, too, can face the skeletons in your closet one day. Maybe it'll be today. Maybe it'll be a few weeks, or months, or years - or maybe never - I don't know.
Just remember: no matter how you may feel sometimes, you're not alone.
You are never alone. 


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