April 16, 2010

• And a bit more before my cultures are done incubating.

  I've been sharing books with another first year, a bisexual, polyamorous first year who, despite being so similar in romantic concepts, is almost nothing like me otherwise.  She let slip that she viewed Robert Heinlein as a sexist writer at a dinner party (which I will talk about later) and I just couldn't put up with someone discounting amazing literature because it came from a less "progressive" era.  I forced Stranger in a Strange Land on her and she in turn handed me Ender's Game, which I thoroughly enjoyed.  I let her know that she had my respect as a literary critic and I offered Time Enough for Love just to cement her new found enjoyment of Heinlein.  I received Twilight as payment.  After having made fun of it for so long I thought perhaps I owed it something, to read it and give it a chance, a handshake after a long and brutal battle of wits.  So I sat down one night and began, taking a deep breath and bracing myself.  I was hoping to be surprised, I suppose.  I was hoping that it would be good and I could understand why everyone was so enraptured by it.  Well...I was not surprised.  The characters (who are the story what with the complete lack of any real action or plot) are one dimensional and utterly boring.  I can't say they are predictable because nothing they do makes any sense, but in some ways that's worse than being predictable.  I get this feeling of pretentiousness overwhelming my senses when I read for more than a few hours, similar to when I read the bible, the feeling that if I commented on how bad it was people would retort with things like, "You just don't understand," or, "You aren't the right type of person to enjoy it," things that can't be reasoned through logically.  I've been thinking through what I'm going to tell her when I return the book to her.  I've settled on saying nothing, and when prompted for my opinion I will respond curtly and negatively, but not cruelly.  For example:
  
  Her:  "Ohhh, Katie, did you like it?" *expectant face*
  Me:  "No.  Sorry.  Here's your book back.  I would love to read something else, though!"

  However, the dinner parties are grand!  There are six of us, counting myself and my husband.  We rotate dinner every Sunday and cook something for everyone else followed by sitting around chatting about this and that.  It's really nice.  It makes me feel like an adult, but not in that boring, responsible way.  Instead, I feel like an adult in the way that I can plan events and cook for others and have a home to invite them into happily.  It's really nice.  When my turn came up last Sunday I cooked manicotti and egg rolls and made boba and root beer floats for dessert.  Everyone loved it and I had so much fun.  If only I had a house and a dining room and all that, but I suppose it's really the people you are with and not the location that matters the most, and I really like the people I'm with right now.

  And with that I must return again to my research, but I still have more so I'll return again when I have a chance to try and wrap it all up.

  • 3:55 pm
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