#whyimarch

I have tried to not post too much about the current events in this country.

However, I can’t not post about the Women’s March, and the posts that I have seen in regard to it. I have seen more friends that I would like posting about how they think that the Women’s March is pointless. And it just gets me right in the stomach.

Please, please, look around you for a second. Look outside of your own experiences, and into the lives of the people around you. I have been fortunate to have experienced very little prejudice in my life as a woman. I went to school in a place where I was never disregarded or not taken seriously because of my gender. I work for a company that would never pay me less than a man for doing the same job. I have two beautiful children that I was lucky to experience no complications with, and that my health insurance paid the majority of the costs for.

But I am not every woman. Not even close.

I hope that my daughter is fortunate enough to have the same experiences that I have had. I hope that she is never discriminated against or pushed aside. But more than that, I hope she never has to question. I hope she grows up in a world in which she never feels like her rights are up for debate.

Please remember that the rights that we do have today were not always given to us. They were fought for. They were protested for. They were marched for.

Marching is not pointless. Protesting is not pointless. Equality, is not pointless.

 

 

Back in the Swing

I’ve started this blog three different times today, and I still have no direction. What I do have is spit up on my sweatpants, a slobbery baby on my lap, and one clean hand to type with while simultaneously using it to drink my luke-warm cup of coffee.

All of that makes it sound like I’m in a bad mood, doesn’t it? Well, my friends, that is misleading. It is snowing, Caroline is full of baby giggles, and I’m semi-watching Once Upon a Time which means I am understanding nothing, but catching up none the less.

When I started this blog my setup looked much differently. I would sit down with my coffee and breakfast, in a quiet house, at the table. I can’t even remember the last time I did anything at the table that wasn’t actually doing something for someone else. Less in the creating a service project kind of way and more in the feeding a baby and/or keeping markers from flying down into the livingroom kind of way.

Now, I have to make myself a mental note that I should blog today. It’s right next to my mental note that there is no more toilet paper in the upstairs bathroom. Which is less of a reminder and more of an aw shit I need to put toilet paper in there every time I walk by it. But it will get done eventually. After all of the more important things.

Just like this blog.

The important things just look a little different now too. They aren’t papers or reading or tests. They are cuddles and laughs and laundry.

My point is that life looks different now, and this blog will too. Bear with me while I find my voice again.

For now, just enjoy this picture and try to look at life the way that Caroline looks at a hamburger. I know I will.

 

hamburger

 

 

 

 

My Faith Crisis in America

Well, I wish this wasn’t my first post back on the blog. But here we are.

I’ve never let myself belong to anything that I didn’t completely believe in. It’s the reason that I have never conformed to one particular faith or belief system. It’s not necessarily something I have ever struggled with. I was raised by amazing parents who fostered that part of me. They encouraged me to follow my heart and to not let anyone tell me that I needed to be something that I wasn’t, or be a part of something that I didn’t believe in. I’ve always planned to raise my children the same way.

But when I went in and picked up my daughter out of her crib this morning, my heart broke. My faith in one of the things I have always been proud to be a part of, broke.

How am I supposed to look her in the eyes knowing that last night my country, our country, elected someone into the highest office that wants to take her rights away? Who sees her as less, as inferior?

What if my son is gay? What if that brief glimpse into equality that this country saw gets ripped away? What if his amazing daycare provider, an immigrant who has helped me raise my son since he was 7 weeks old, decides to leave this country? Or is forced to?

How has this happened? I have never, until today, felt any shame about being an American.

I have always had a strong connection to American History. I’ve spent years studying it. I’ve poured tens of thousands of dollars into our education system to learn more about it. Believe me, we have never been perfect. I understand that the story we are told in elementary school about the pilgrims and the founders is all a romantic tale void of factual events. I know that. Slavery. Native American injustice. Japanese internment. Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Segregation. Gender Inequality. These are all things that are a part of the American legacy. I didn’t think they were a part of our future.

I was wrong.

I made the mistake of believing that this country was progressive in it’s human rights. That we were always moving forward on the path to equality, no matter how slowly. I didn’t think that we would ever take a step backward.

For the sake of what? Trade? The national deficit? As a country, we have decided that those things are more important than the people who live here.

The only way I can describe this feeling in my gut, is a faith crisis. What people experience when they begin to question their religion. I’ve believed in this country my whole life, I’ve been proud to be a part of it. To tell people that I am an American. Now for the first time, I am questioning that faith.

As a woman, I am angry. As a mother, I am heartbroken. As an American, I am ashamed.

Facelifts & The Future

Guys. I know. I left you all again. But I had another cute baby! Forgiven?

Also, Im changing this place up a bit. I miss being able to blog, and since I have two littles now, reading happens a lot less often as I would like. I would really love to be able to read as much as I used to and bring you the same weekly reviews, I swear. It’s not my fault. Talk to my two year old.

So- I’m going to be morphing this blog into a space where I can basically blog about whatever I want. But mainly about the things that I like, which still includes reading! I’m just gonna throw some baby shenanigans and ramblings about my favorite beverages in there too. It’s gonna be a great time. I really hope that all of you will sill follow a long with my crazy life!

For starters, I’ve given this place a little facelift in the form of a new banner! It’s pretty fancy and I’m pretty proud of it. I’m still debating on changing the domain name for consistency, but for those of you already following the blog that shouldn’t change much.

Other than that, I am not going to change much of anything else. I have always loved the simple layout we have going on here, so it’ll stay. It’s just the content that will be getting the major facelift, but sometimes change is good, right? Do you think so? I hope you do. I hope you keep reading, because I am excited to be back!

The Bone Season by Samantha Shannon

theboneseason

I was a mollisher, the protegee of a mime-lord. My boss was a man named Jaxon Hall, the mime-lord responsible for the I-4 area. There were six of us in his direct employ. We called ourselves the Seven Seals.

It has been a while since I have been able to lose myself in a dystopian novel. Lately, they all seem to follow the same path. Heavier on the romance than the world building. Which is not a bad thing, its just the same thing. Sometimes, it’s nice to get back to a story that the romance is secondary and the action is drawn to the forefront. Before I jump on into my thoughts about it here is the summary from goodreads!

 The year is 2059. Nineteen-year-old Paige Mahoney is working in the criminal underworld of Scion London, based at Seven Dials, employed by a man named Jaxon Hall. Her job: to scout for information by breaking into people’s minds. For Paige is a dreamwalker, a clairvoyant and, in the world of Scion, she commits treason simply by breathing.

It is raining the day her life changes for ever. Attacked, drugged and kidnapped, Paige is transported to Oxford – a city kept secret for two hundred years, controlled by a powerful, otherworldly race. Paige is assigned to Warden, a Rephaite with mysterious motives. He is her master. Her trainer. Her natural enemy. But if Paige wants to regain her freedom she must allow herself to be nurtured in this prison where she is meant to die.

Paige’s world, although complicated and harsh, is so easy to jump into. You start off knowing absolutely nothing about the state of the world, what kind of society this dystopia is built on. Shannon does an amazing job of easing you right into it. She starts using slang and phrases that are new to you right from the get go, and I don’t hate it. Some books, like The Maze Runner, try to do the same thing but fall short a bit. You have all these new words and have no idea what they mean or what to make of them, making you hesitate. The Bone Season doesn’t hesitate. Shannon is so sure of the world that she built that it flows through the pages. Her confidence is apparent, as it should be.

The  character building in this story is everything you would want it to be. Paige is complicated, but not confusing. You guys know I talk all the time about secondary character building, and how important I think it is. The secondary characters in this book are amazing. Some of them you get to know for maybe a total of a page collectively through the whole book, and you fall in love with them. That kind of building is so so important! When you only care about the protagonist, you don’t care about the world that they live in, which is so contradictory in a dystopian! My favorite secondary character in The Bone Season is Michael. If that guy doesn’t at least get his own short story, I might die a little inside.

I know I said that the romance takes a back seat in this one, and it does, but that does not mean it dissapoints 🙂 you will love some of the men in this one, and hate others. But you will love the right ones, if you know what I am saying 😉 It isn’t without it’s steamy bits.

I know with dystopians reviews are more like teasers, because I want to keep it as spoiler-free as possible, but trust me on this one you guys. It’s good. I mean really really good. I’m pretty excited to start the sequel, The Mime Order, but I’m gonna take a break and read And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie for my book club first! So you will see a review on that one up before The Mime Order. I’m also listening to The Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard on Audible because I like to bite off more than I can chew 🙂

Also, go follow @thebookboozer on Instagram! All the cool kids are doing it.

Last Review: Trigger Warning by Neil Gaiman

Etsy Shop: Night&Day

Trigger Warning by Neil Gaiman

It’s been a minute guys! Be ready for a slew of posts in the next two weeks. Real talk. Because I already wrote them 😉

TriggerWArning

Trigger Warning is the newest collection of poems and short stories by Neil Gaiman. This is by no means his first collection, and the other ones are just as mesmerizing (my favorite being Smoke and Mirrors, that one heats up a bit!). There is a ton that I could talk about, being that there is a lot of different content, so I will just focus on the two things that I love the most about this collection.

First off, let’s talk about trigger warning’s for a minute. They have been around for a long time, but I think are used more predominately now. A trigger warning is a warning that you give before posting something that you think might upset someone. Something that might trigger a past pain or emotion that they experienced. The question is, do you keep reading? Should fiction come with a trigger warning? Gaiman says no. I totally agree with him. You need to feel all the feels people. Good fiction is supposed to make you feel. That is one of the reasons why Clockwork Princess by Cassandra Clare is my favorite book. It made me feel empowered and strong and brilliant, but it also made me feel loss and heartbreak and grief. And I love it for that. People don’t love Harry Potter because its about wizards and spells and magic. They love it because it is about people who live and lose and grow. They love it because it makes them feel.

Every story in this collection will make you feel a different way, depending on the story and depending on who you are. Some are happy, some are dark. The beauty is you have no idea which way each short story is going to go unless you read it. That is why I am only going to talk about one of these stories, so as not to steal the experience of reading this collection yourself.

My absolute favorite story in this collection, and one of my favorite that he has ever written, is called The Man Who Forgot Ray Bradbury. This story was released before this collection, and was actually a birthday present from Gaiman to Bradbury on what turned out to be his last birthday. It starts out lighthearted and funny, then morphs into philosophical and thought provoking, making you feel a range of emotions. However, the most beautiful part of this story, is that it was written before Ray Bradbury passed away. I know that. But, if you happen to read this story and did not know it was written while he was still alive, you would almost be positive it was written in memorium of his life. It is an ode to his works and his career that shaped so many lives and childhoods and were so important. So important.

Even if you don’t pick up this collection, please look up that story. It is available all over the internet for free, usually with Gaiman himself reading it. But honestly, you should probably just get the book 🙂