1. People here are patient with me. Most people try to understand when I speak English, though they absolutely do not understand when I mispronounce French, which is absolutely every time I try to speak French.
2. People in cafes can stay in cafes for as long as they please, drinking only one tiny cup of coffee if they like. No one is shooing you away. No one is asking you for your seat.
3. People walk across the road, sometimes dangerously, and though I'm sure they do get hit, vehicles slow down (almost unreasonably, in my mind) to avoid hitting pedestrians.
4. People driving vehicles tend to use their horns to alert drivers in the right lane that they are passing them in the left. And while we're on the road, if you find that you need to make a right turn, but find that you are three lanes far away, ne t'inquiète pas: merge on over there, nice and steady-like. People will find a way around you.
5. People walking along the street fearlessly approach each other from opposite directions, neither indicating which way they'll move in order to avoid collision. And you find yourselves miraculously passing each other, barely touching elbows.
6. People who are accepting your payment may try to cheat you. If you catch them at it, smile and reclaim the money instead of yelling and getting heartsore. They were just moving into the space they saw, filling in the cracks.
All this to say, things are... negotiable. People are pliable. People are first. People people people.
Showing posts with label cities. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cities. Show all posts
Saturday, October 22, 2016
Sunday, October 2, 2016
God, what will you do with cities?
Leave the dirt.
In it grows
our only hope
to live again.
Pavements crack.
Buildings fall.
Rain and wind
shall do their work.
Have no fear
of all we build;
even evil
will have its day—
invasive weed
soon stripped away—
trees shall grow in its place.
---
I walk through this brown city, and think how lovely it could be if only we would leave it alone to grow some green. If only we would leave the dirt to build up on the sidewalks, filling up crevices: little greens would shoot up, and slowly tear the asphalt apart. In a few years, the city would be unidentifiable, and we would have a real place to live.
Forgive me. I know I can't have it both ways. It's just, we seem to ruin all we touch; instead of guiding and stewarding the earth, we try to conquer it, as if we hate it instead of loving it.
All cities do not have to be "a paralysis" a la James Joyce. Moroccan designers, builders, craftspeople, rich people, green-loving humans with souls who haven't known peace: BUILD US A PARK IN CASABLANCA.
In it grows
our only hope
to live again.
Pavements crack.
Buildings fall.
Rain and wind
shall do their work.
Have no fear
of all we build;
even evil
will have its day—
invasive weed
soon stripped away—
trees shall grow in its place.
---
I walk through this brown city, and think how lovely it could be if only we would leave it alone to grow some green. If only we would leave the dirt to build up on the sidewalks, filling up crevices: little greens would shoot up, and slowly tear the asphalt apart. In a few years, the city would be unidentifiable, and we would have a real place to live.
Forgive me. I know I can't have it both ways. It's just, we seem to ruin all we touch; instead of guiding and stewarding the earth, we try to conquer it, as if we hate it instead of loving it.
All cities do not have to be "a paralysis" a la James Joyce. Moroccan designers, builders, craftspeople, rich people, green-loving humans with souls who haven't known peace: BUILD US A PARK IN CASABLANCA.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Fish, Cats, and Family Vacation
Sometimes, on vacation, a meal out is just another meal. You find nourishment. Maybe you pay too much. And you leave full, but empty. Then there are those special meals out. There's a spark to conversation. The food is better. Commensality.
On our family vacation to Baltimore last weekend, we had a few of those successful, special dinners together. The best was Saturday night. Meg had made the reservations, and she and I had chosen dresses to wear, and Meg and dressed my not-yet-seven-year-old niece Aida in a twirly pink skirt. When Dad saw that Stephen was wearing a collared shirt, he felt under-dressed and returned to the room to change. As we all piled into the shuttle, I wondered why "dressing for dinner" had ever gone out of fashion. It separates the work from the play. I can appreciate people better after I feel I have taken care of myself.
We walked along the piers of Inner Harbor, arriving at the restaurant just before sunset. The inside was inlaid with rich woodwork that reminded one of lavish captain's quarters. Final rays of sunlight peeked through the westward windows, illuminating specks in the air. We all attempted to sit up straight and act as though we always ate in places with multiple forks. I ordered the flounder
We chatted while Aida colored a picture of a shrimp wearing a hat and a hook. (She must have colored ten of these pictures by the end of the weekend.) When we slowed our eating, Dad remarked that we should save the fish that we don't eat so that he could feed it to the starving cat at the hotel. If you don't know my Dad, you'll appreciate that he gave me a little book called 101 Uses for a Dead Cat when I was eight years old. But you should also know that I am an avid cat-lover, and he was less than 50% joking about the book.
So when he issued a proclamation regarding the saving of scraps for a cat, one wondered how much he had had to drink. And one wondered a lot more when the honest answer was that he was not drunk; he was serious. Stephen corroborated the story: a skin-and-bones cat had been wandering about the hotel gates, meowing pathetically, clearly the victim of some tragic human.
When the waiter came by, my father asked for a small box, "So we can give the rest to a starving cat."
No. Joke. I was mortified. So was my Dad.
"The food was excellent, though," I tried to clarify, "It's just... we're all full..."
"--and this cat, it really is starving," Dad helped. The waiter seemed to understand.
Megan laughed, "This is something Princess would love to eat, right Aida?" Princess lives across the street from Meg and Stephen. She often wanders into their yard, and is more a community cat than the property of any one household. Everyone loves her as if she were their own, and my niece and nephew especially so. My brother would often come outside in the morning to find Princess on the top of his car, waiting to say good morning to him. "By the way, where is Princess? It's been a long time since she's been around. Have you seen her, Steve?"
"Yeah, she died a month ago. She got run over," Stephen said matter-of-factly. He immediately realized his mistake.
Aida looked up at him, then put her head down on the table, covering her little face in her little hands. When she looked up again, she was close to sobbing, her face streaked with tears, her nose reddening, "P-Princess," was all she could manage. Megan held her as Stephen tried to mend it.
"I'm sorry, Pickle. I meant to tell you better." Dad and I looked at each other, nearly crying ourselves. I mean, we'll all miss Princess, but my young niece experiencing the first death of a pet (suddenly, over dinner) was almost more than we could bear. She pulled it together after being promised candy from some overpriced, sassy shop in the Harbor.
The night was warm and breezy, and filled with a jazz band. The perfect night for dancing under a crescent moon hanging above the skyscrapers.
Interesting fact: The starving cat rejected everyone else's fish except for the flounder.
On our family vacation to Baltimore last weekend, we had a few of those successful, special dinners together. The best was Saturday night. Meg had made the reservations, and she and I had chosen dresses to wear, and Meg and dressed my not-yet-seven-year-old niece Aida in a twirly pink skirt. When Dad saw that Stephen was wearing a collared shirt, he felt under-dressed and returned to the room to change. As we all piled into the shuttle, I wondered why "dressing for dinner" had ever gone out of fashion. It separates the work from the play. I can appreciate people better after I feel I have taken care of myself.
We walked along the piers of Inner Harbor, arriving at the restaurant just before sunset. The inside was inlaid with rich woodwork that reminded one of lavish captain's quarters. Final rays of sunlight peeked through the westward windows, illuminating specks in the air. We all attempted to sit up straight and act as though we always ate in places with multiple forks. I ordered the flounder
We chatted while Aida colored a picture of a shrimp wearing a hat and a hook. (She must have colored ten of these pictures by the end of the weekend.) When we slowed our eating, Dad remarked that we should save the fish that we don't eat so that he could feed it to the starving cat at the hotel. If you don't know my Dad, you'll appreciate that he gave me a little book called 101 Uses for a Dead Cat when I was eight years old. But you should also know that I am an avid cat-lover, and he was less than 50% joking about the book.
So when he issued a proclamation regarding the saving of scraps for a cat, one wondered how much he had had to drink. And one wondered a lot more when the honest answer was that he was not drunk; he was serious. Stephen corroborated the story: a skin-and-bones cat had been wandering about the hotel gates, meowing pathetically, clearly the victim of some tragic human.
When the waiter came by, my father asked for a small box, "So we can give the rest to a starving cat."
No. Joke. I was mortified. So was my Dad.
"The food was excellent, though," I tried to clarify, "It's just... we're all full..."
"--and this cat, it really is starving," Dad helped. The waiter seemed to understand.
Megan laughed, "This is something Princess would love to eat, right Aida?" Princess lives across the street from Meg and Stephen. She often wanders into their yard, and is more a community cat than the property of any one household. Everyone loves her as if she were their own, and my niece and nephew especially so. My brother would often come outside in the morning to find Princess on the top of his car, waiting to say good morning to him. "By the way, where is Princess? It's been a long time since she's been around. Have you seen her, Steve?"
"Yeah, she died a month ago. She got run over," Stephen said matter-of-factly. He immediately realized his mistake.
Aida looked up at him, then put her head down on the table, covering her little face in her little hands. When she looked up again, she was close to sobbing, her face streaked with tears, her nose reddening, "P-Princess," was all she could manage. Megan held her as Stephen tried to mend it.
"I'm sorry, Pickle. I meant to tell you better." Dad and I looked at each other, nearly crying ourselves. I mean, we'll all miss Princess, but my young niece experiencing the first death of a pet (suddenly, over dinner) was almost more than we could bear. She pulled it together after being promised candy from some overpriced, sassy shop in the Harbor.
The night was warm and breezy, and filled with a jazz band. The perfect night for dancing under a crescent moon hanging above the skyscrapers.
Interesting fact: The starving cat rejected everyone else's fish except for the flounder.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Destination: Cleveland
Dates: June 14-17 [well, we left at 6am on the 17th in order for me to be back in time to go to a wedding. It was beautiful.]
Purpose: to participate in Marine Week. [We were disappointed after learning that this had nothing whatsoever to do with fish or boats. Ha. No. Actual Purpose: to meet up with FRIENDS, specifically Erin and Rachel]
Mode of Transport: Christine's car
People whose presence we missed by being together: numerous
Description: Christine came on Wednesday to help me focus on the week-long, intensive class I was taking. It actually worked. It turns out I can read and write best when there's a person nearby to whom I can occasionally read a brilliant passage, or who keeps me updated on Facebook and discourages me from doing the same.
We left Thursday after class, arriving by midnight in Cleveland. Instead of recounting every single thing we did (which Christine and I did on the way home, with true narrative genius, I might add), I shall add 34 more items to my list of Favorite Things.
Quoteboards
Erin's laugh
Christine's laugh
Rachel's long-lost laugh
Carolyn's laugh
Laughter
Duct tape [we went to the duct tape festival... It's only impressive if you think of it as a small town's summer carnival + a nod to duct tape]
Cafes
Flawless weddings [we did not all attend one, Erin was the coordinator at one on Saturday]
Lavender soda
Open windows
Ponytails
Thank-you cards
Soft puppies
Powdered color
Sweat bands
No traffic
Little black dresses [Marshall's store: Christine, Rachel, and I tried on dress after dress, many of which we would never dream of actually buying. Though it's always so rewarding when those look good on.]
Bobby pins ["Are you going to bobby pin that hair into submission?"]
Headbands that fit
Background music
Ceiling fans
Invitations to go swing dancing
Friends with apartments
Funny grammar mistakes
Eating 'cause you're too lazy to stare [I have no idea what that means now]
Community naps
Dutch Blitz
Going out
Visiting nursing homes [we did not do that, we just wrote it down]
Sitting on counter tops
Sitting next to a friend in class [not that we went to class all together... I mean, since college]
Watching the old version of "Father of the Bride," (you know, the one with Elizabeth Taylor?) at Erin's house with her family and friends, and eating pizza, and drinking root beer, and all the while a little cat is determined to stay right in the center of your lap, all curled up sleeping.
Staying up until 4am talking, expressing a devil-may-care attitude toward tomorrow's six hours of driving with an hour-and-a-half of sleep.
Purpose: to participate in Marine Week. [We were disappointed after learning that this had nothing whatsoever to do with fish or boats. Ha. No. Actual Purpose: to meet up with FRIENDS, specifically Erin and Rachel]
Mode of Transport: Christine's car
People whose presence we missed by being together: numerous
Description: Christine came on Wednesday to help me focus on the week-long, intensive class I was taking. It actually worked. It turns out I can read and write best when there's a person nearby to whom I can occasionally read a brilliant passage, or who keeps me updated on Facebook and discourages me from doing the same.
We left Thursday after class, arriving by midnight in Cleveland. Instead of recounting every single thing we did (which Christine and I did on the way home, with true narrative genius, I might add), I shall add 34 more items to my list of Favorite Things.
Quoteboards
Erin's laugh
Christine's laugh
Rachel's long-lost laugh
Carolyn's laugh
Laughter
Duct tape [we went to the duct tape festival... It's only impressive if you think of it as a small town's summer carnival + a nod to duct tape]
Cafes
Flawless weddings [we did not all attend one, Erin was the coordinator at one on Saturday]Lavender soda
Open windows
Ponytails
Thank-you cards
Soft puppies
Powdered color
Sweat bands
No traffic
Little black dresses [Marshall's store: Christine, Rachel, and I tried on dress after dress, many of which we would never dream of actually buying. Though it's always so rewarding when those look good on.]
Bobby pins ["Are you going to bobby pin that hair into submission?"]
Headbands that fit
Background music
Ceiling fans
Invitations to go swing dancing
Friends with apartments
Funny grammar mistakes
Eating 'cause you're too lazy to stare [I have no idea what that means now]
Community naps
Dutch Blitz
Going out
Visiting nursing homes [we did not do that, we just wrote it down]
Sitting on counter tops
Sitting next to a friend in class [not that we went to class all together... I mean, since college]
Watching the old version of "Father of the Bride," (you know, the one with Elizabeth Taylor?) at Erin's house with her family and friends, and eating pizza, and drinking root beer, and all the while a little cat is determined to stay right in the center of your lap, all curled up sleeping.
Staying up until 4am talking, expressing a devil-may-care attitude toward tomorrow's six hours of driving with an hour-and-a-half of sleep.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Events and Observations
from the last 30 days.
For Christmas, I traveled to Stephen and Megan's house. I saw Aida and Holden and my Dad, and got everyone sick with a distinctly violent cold. We watched Master and Commander practically in slow motion. Stephen commented on everything navy... and it was still a good movie.
I read The Curate's Awakening by George MacDonald.
I traveled to see Erin Heisey with Christine Rankin. Oh, yes! Cleveland really does rock. We loved the zoo, and the Hyatt where Erin works. I loved the Cleveland Museum of Art. It's good for the imagination to see the Egyptian wing in a museum having just seen The Mummy. We stayed up late talking and talking. And even though it's been a long time, and might be a longer time, we picked up where we left off. You know when that happens that as we have been growing up, God has been growing up in us, too.
Michelle came for a too-short weekend. We attended The Beggar Folk's album release.
I learned to play Dominion with Joella's family.
Tim Nickels visited all the way from Maine! It had been seven years since we had actually talked. Again, with how God grows up in us.
I got a job at Isaac's Restaurant. I begin this week. This has been a tough couple of months regarding jobs.
Mom and Dan dropped off the truck for me to use while student teaching. It's great to have wheels!
Just today, I attended Millersville's student teacher orientation meeting: Rough. Times. In short, I don't yet have a placement for student teaching. Please don't ask about it. I'll let you know.
I read The Curate's Awakening by George MacDonald.
I traveled to see Erin Heisey with Christine Rankin. Oh, yes! Cleveland really does rock. We loved the zoo, and the Hyatt where Erin works. I loved the Cleveland Museum of Art. It's good for the imagination to see the Egyptian wing in a museum having just seen The Mummy. We stayed up late talking and talking. And even though it's been a long time, and might be a longer time, we picked up where we left off. You know when that happens that as we have been growing up, God has been growing up in us, too.
Michelle came for a too-short weekend. We attended The Beggar Folk's album release.
I learned to play Dominion with Joella's family.
Tim Nickels visited all the way from Maine! It had been seven years since we had actually talked. Again, with how God grows up in us.
I got a job at Isaac's Restaurant. I begin this week. This has been a tough couple of months regarding jobs.
Mom and Dan dropped off the truck for me to use while student teaching. It's great to have wheels!
Just today, I attended Millersville's student teacher orientation meeting: Rough. Times. In short, I don't yet have a placement for student teaching. Please don't ask about it. I'll let you know.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
When Cat Fell Out of the World
Cat sat at the window inside the world. She looked at the picture that changed.
But today the screen was up. Cat was suddenly out of the world! The ground smelled like living bugs. The air was achingly close, in her fur, through her whiskers.
The neighbor's calls and sirens and carhorns could touch her pricked ears! Her tail dipped and touched the grasses moved by the wind. She crunched leaves under her paws.
Cat gave a cry. She missed sitting under the table and dodging moving legs in the world.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Philly Trip
No way should I be writing this right now. I have homework like I can only imagine. But it's going on a week,and my dear little bloggie has no idea about actual life events! Just snippets of thoughts, and, let's be honest, that's nothing to chew on!
Last Wednesday, Daniel, Todd, Wayne and I headed to the train station to catch the 9:30 train to 30th Street Station. Todd brought biscotti. Todd wins.
Daniel gave a brief (and enlightening, as always, Dan, (no sarcasm here, I promise!)) music-genre study on our ride. Shortly thereafter I fell asleep. I dreamed of homework. Then we were in Philly! Todd brought a map. Another win for Todd.
The day was beautiful and breezy. We walked in the historical district on our way to find cheesesteaks (one word, Google, don't you give me that red underline!) in South Street. Gianna's Grill is a hole-in-the-wall spot known for its vegan cheese steaks. Daniel's opinion: vegetarians should stick to creating their own menu instead of imitating meat--nasty.
Later, the Franklin Institute, where they are featuring Body Worlds 2. That was crazy weird. Real bodies, preserved through plastination. Instead of calling them people, the placards called them "plastinates." It was interesting to me in a morbid way. I was pretty disturbed when we got to the fetuses. The human body is miraculous, certainly. I saw an eight-week old embryo already identifiable as a human, but the size of a dime. Dude. But those little humans did not sign up to be put on display in the Franklin Institute.
We walked through the heart. I saw a brain shriveled by Alzheimer's disease. We played with airflow and inertia and camera angles and got hungry again.
Dinner was Reading Terminal Market, formerly the inner city train station before 30th Street was built. I ate sushi which I thought to be fish-free until I found an auspicious tentacle in the maki roll that fell apart. Also, Bassett's ice cream is everything Bill said it would be.
Back to the Franklin Institute for the IMAX showing of Avatar. We had to switch seats to keep everyone from straining their necks and/or throwing up. The screen fills one's field of vision to the point of certain nausea. Avatar is a wonderful movie, a powerful message about the environment, imperialism, selfishness, [loss of] culture... go see it.
Then the late train back to Lancaster. I slept again. This time I dreamed of Avatar.
Last Wednesday, Daniel, Todd, Wayne and I headed to the train station to catch the 9:30 train to 30th Street Station. Todd brought biscotti. Todd wins.
Daniel gave a brief (and enlightening, as always, Dan, (no sarcasm here, I promise!)) music-genre study on our ride. Shortly thereafter I fell asleep. I dreamed of homework. Then we were in Philly! Todd brought a map. Another win for Todd.
The day was beautiful and breezy. We walked in the historical district on our way to find cheesesteaks (one word, Google, don't you give me that red underline!) in South Street. Gianna's Grill is a hole-in-the-wall spot known for its vegan cheese steaks. Daniel's opinion: vegetarians should stick to creating their own menu instead of imitating meat--nasty.
Later, the Franklin Institute, where they are featuring Body Worlds 2. That was crazy weird. Real bodies, preserved through plastination. Instead of calling them people, the placards called them "plastinates." It was interesting to me in a morbid way. I was pretty disturbed when we got to the fetuses. The human body is miraculous, certainly. I saw an eight-week old embryo already identifiable as a human, but the size of a dime. Dude. But those little humans did not sign up to be put on display in the Franklin Institute.
We walked through the heart. I saw a brain shriveled by Alzheimer's disease. We played with airflow and inertia and camera angles and got hungry again.
Dinner was Reading Terminal Market, formerly the inner city train station before 30th Street was built. I ate sushi which I thought to be fish-free until I found an auspicious tentacle in the maki roll that fell apart. Also, Bassett's ice cream is everything Bill said it would be.
Back to the Franklin Institute for the IMAX showing of Avatar. We had to switch seats to keep everyone from straining their necks and/or throwing up. The screen fills one's field of vision to the point of certain nausea. Avatar is a wonderful movie, a powerful message about the environment, imperialism, selfishness, [loss of] culture... go see it.
Then the late train back to Lancaster. I slept again. This time I dreamed of Avatar.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Boston in June
I left early Friday morning, the 12th, and drove to BWI and flew to see Lisa and Chris in Boston. I haven't often had the opportunity to travel alone, but I prefer it to the larger group traveling I've done. This is so much less complicated, and there's less cushioning--the insulation of a group can dull the experience of travel. I took the T into the city, that is, the Boston public transportation system, specifically the subway, I think. I had no trouble finding their office building near the Massachusetts Institute of Technology campus. I took the elevator up 12 floors, carrying my backpack, dressed in a purple sweatshirt, sneakers and jeans with holes. As I tried in vain to fix my hair in the reflective walls, the guy in the elevator asked if I was going to an interview. "Dressed like this?! I would hope not!" I replied. Lisa and Chris said that that is normal attire for the people in their building, and the interviewers in the vicinity don't look more favorably on less comfortable, dressier interview outfits, so it's just as well to dress casually. Culture.
I spent the morning finding breakfast around Northeastern University, and the afternoon in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. Most of the artwork in my art history textbook from last fall was taken from the BMFA, so I had a certain familiarity with the works. It was like seeing old friends, whose names I mostly didn't remember...
After four hours in the museum, I had seen most of what there was to see, and I was tired. So I searched for a nice bench to nap on in the warm sunlight. I found a beautiful rose garden instead. Dozens of rose bushes in full bloom. Dozens. The rain had just ceased an hour ago, and the sun shone bright on the wet petals, filling the air with perfume that is not for sale.
I slept on a bench later, near Lisa's office building, in the midst of a Filipino cultural celebration. Great music. I explored the MIT bookstore then met up with Lisa for coffee. We waited for Chris then headed all together to Wellesley, two train rides outside the city. We ate Thai Friday night, and I enjoyed Thai iced tea (!).
Saturday, I added another state to my "visited" list: we drove to Connecticut for their haircuts and a visit to Chris' parents. It just so happens that Connecticut is absolutely beautiful, like Massachusetts, although my acquaintance is still limited to what I could see from the highways, between sunny naps and intriguing conversation. The rest of the weekend was peppered with watching Firefly episodes (I admit it! I'm a fan. A big fan. There.) and eating Chris' gourmet cooking. Their church was beautiful and pristine, built in that square meetinghouse fashion that I will always associate with New England. The parishioners were kind, and the service was short.
On a walk, we talked about the Twilight series, which I have not read yet, and Chris finally vocalized what I have suspected for some time: the books are compelling, but not particularly well written; Edward Cullen has every quality of an emotionally abusive boyfriend; Stephanie Meyer might do well to examine her ideals in relationships, as she seems to write unaware of Edward's frightening qualities, vampire-status notwithstanding.
It was so good to talk to Lisa face-to-face.
I spent the morning finding breakfast around Northeastern University, and the afternoon in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. Most of the artwork in my art history textbook from last fall was taken from the BMFA, so I had a certain familiarity with the works. It was like seeing old friends, whose names I mostly didn't remember...
After four hours in the museum, I had seen most of what there was to see, and I was tired. So I searched for a nice bench to nap on in the warm sunlight. I found a beautiful rose garden instead. Dozens of rose bushes in full bloom. Dozens. The rain had just ceased an hour ago, and the sun shone bright on the wet petals, filling the air with perfume that is not for sale.
I slept on a bench later, near Lisa's office building, in the midst of a Filipino cultural celebration. Great music. I explored the MIT bookstore then met up with Lisa for coffee. We waited for Chris then headed all together to Wellesley, two train rides outside the city. We ate Thai Friday night, and I enjoyed Thai iced tea (!).
Saturday, I added another state to my "visited" list: we drove to Connecticut for their haircuts and a visit to Chris' parents. It just so happens that Connecticut is absolutely beautiful, like Massachusetts, although my acquaintance is still limited to what I could see from the highways, between sunny naps and intriguing conversation. The rest of the weekend was peppered with watching Firefly episodes (I admit it! I'm a fan. A big fan. There.) and eating Chris' gourmet cooking. Their church was beautiful and pristine, built in that square meetinghouse fashion that I will always associate with New England. The parishioners were kind, and the service was short.
On a walk, we talked about the Twilight series, which I have not read yet, and Chris finally vocalized what I have suspected for some time: the books are compelling, but not particularly well written; Edward Cullen has every quality of an emotionally abusive boyfriend; Stephanie Meyer might do well to examine her ideals in relationships, as she seems to write unaware of Edward's frightening qualities, vampire-status notwithstanding.
It was so good to talk to Lisa face-to-face.
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