It's different, so it must be good. Right?

There are a lot of books out there that have lived in history and become the definitive classics, with their authors recognized as the masters of prose. Most of these books and their authors deserve this status of immortality. Charles Dickens, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Mary Shelley, Bram Stoker, W. Sommerset Maugham, Thomas Hardy... I've read at least one work of each of these authors, and I must agree with the valuation that history has given these authors and their works; they are masters
who've created at least one masterpiece.

I'm a huge fan of the classics, so I make it a point to read them whenever possible, and usually, these works do belong on a "must read" list.

Every once in a while, though, a book and its author are truly over-rated.

You can almost sense when books are "appreciated" simply because they do something different. It doesn't have to be necessarily good, it's just something that's never been done before, therefore it merits kudos.

I'm not a book reviewer, nor am I formally trained to analyze books, but I do read books that up my status on the reading ladder, if you will. Recently, I tried my hand at James Joyce. Ulysses, to be exact. I checked Ulysses out at my local library and brought it home, feeling confident that it was going to blow me away with its brilliance.

Though I can't deny that it is a brilliant piece of work-- for those unfamiliar with this colossal work (some editions are 1000 pages long... there are several) serialized between 1914 and 1921, Ulysses was quite innovative. So innovative, Joyce found difficulty publishing it in its entirety, as it was banned in the United States and the United Kingdom until the 1930's for obscenity and explicitness.

It was innovative in that it used a stream of conciousness style of writing, eventually giving birth to what would become Modernist Literature. It recounted one day in 18 hours, each chapter representing an hour of that day, from several points of view. It also used parallels with the Greek work, Odysseus.

Sounds like a great book, it not only was innovative, but it created an entirely new type of literature. I appreciate and respect these things about this book. However, I'd be lying if I said I enjoyed the bit I read of it.

Not only did I find it hard to read without pausing and stumbling in my reading, but I also found it to be the equivalent of scribble in the form of literature. I had no idea what was going on.

Perhaps I should be ashamed of my opinion, but even though this is a book to delve into and try to understand for its uniqueness and difficulty; it would be quite a great adventure... I think it's too much of a challenge to enjoy.

What does the Iceman think?

While I was online checking what turned out to be an empty mailbox, I saw a headline about the Iceman. When I was in the eighth grade, the Iceman was discovered and his story fascinated me ever since. I'd been shown a PBS Nova documentary about the discovery of the Iceman in school, and it completely and utterly fascinated me. I thought it was so cool that this non-mummified body stayed intact for thousands of years in the Italian Alps, waiting for someone to discover it. The latest article said that researchers had figured out what killed the Iceman; he hadn't simply frozen to death, but bled to death in a glacier in the Italian Alps.

Irrelevant information to an everyday person like myself, but I can see how determining the cause of the Iceman's death would be helpful to historians, archaeologists and even those in the field of medicine. I took a minute to consider what it would be like to be involved in discoveries of this size. To be in the presence of a corpse, dead for thousands of years, insignificant and forgotten by the era it belonged to, yet turning into a beacon of light today. Do spirits survive thousands of years? I wonder if the Iceman is watching his body get poked and prodded. I wonder what he would think. Does he think we're crazy for placing so much importance on little old him? Or is he flattered? Or is he just as fascinated by us as we are by him for being so interested in things he and his people overlooked?

No one emailed me. I feel like the Iceman.

The one good thing

In the midst of all the turmoil in Iraq, and people losing their lives left and right, it's hard to find a bright side, and even harder to find humanity.

Today, I found a tiny bit of light in the very long and dark tunnel this country has dug itself in to; the quagmire that is Iraq.

It is a very touching story about a soldier who adopted a stray puppy the day before a roadside bomb killed him in Iraq.

Hero, the puppy, was brought to the US to help 22-year-old Army Spc. Justin Rollins' family and girlfriend cope with his unfortunate death.

So many soldiers and innocent civilians have lost their lives in this war, and there is absolutely no good news no matter how you look at it.

The story of Hero, however, is the only story that warms your heart and reminds you that there is still humanity in the midst of all the madness and death. It is unfortunate that people can't be shipped to a safe place, but it's still nice to know that animals are being taken into consideration.

A Blast from the Past

It's so hard to come to grips with the idea that I'm almost the big 3-0.

I've still got a year and a half left of my 20s, and though I don't feel my age, and people always mistake me for someone much younger than my 28 years; there are times when I'm given a visual aid of just how old I really am.

I was at Walmart yesterday when I was hit with a blast from the past. And quite a blast it was... I ran into a guy I'd had an intense crush on 10 years ago. I was barely 18, a Freshman in college and thought he was exactly what I wanted in a man; good-looking, good dresser, carefree and relaxed.

Standing there with my cart yesterday, I was speechless with shock. Judging by his silence, I imagine that he was speechless with shock, too.

The fact sunk in that it'd been 10 years since I last saw this man. Though I was 18 at the time, he was well over 21, and graduating from college while I was just barely starting. It hit me that not only am I older than I was back then, but he's older than he was back then, and still older than me. It hit me that he's well into his 30s.

In place of what I remembered to be a flat stomach, there was a belly. In place of a chiseled and handsome face, I saw the face of an aged, overweight man; still handsome, but not as handsome as I remembered.

Yesterday's incident made me feel two things:

1. I'm old,
and
2. I'm so old, my past crushes are entering the balding and belly years.

The good news is that though I'm very aware of my age, I still don't feel it.