Fear

The train pulled into the Farragut North station, half of the cars dark, with a placard on front saying "Special." I had just enough time to process the thought that I'd never seen a train labeled that way when the door to one of the dark cars slid open and a woman stepped out. She was dressed head to toe in black, with a stocking cap on her head and a very, very large gun in her hands.

That was when I stopped breathing.

She stayed on the platform for perhaps ten seconds before she stepped back onto the train and the doors slid closed. And then the train began to honk. I didn't even know Metro trains had horns. The sound was deafening, echoing through the station. The other passengers on the platform began to look around uneasily. The train slid forward about fifteen feet and the door opened again. The woman stepped back onto the platform.

There was activity behind me. I hadn't even noticed the man with the gun, standing at the door of the next car down. Two other men quickly began pushing money carts, like those you see in casinos, off the train and around the corner, then pushing other carts onto the train. There was a sense of urgency and tension that was almost palpable. I was afraid to stare, but couldn't look away. I started breathing again, mostly. The woman and the three men stepped back onto the train. The doors slid closed and the train pulled out of the station. They were gone.

I'd never given the least bit of thought to how Metro moved its money around, but now I guess I know.

The sense of general unease and nausea stayed with me for the ride home. I get motion sick on Metro anyway, and the two glasses of wine I had at Science Club weren't doing me any favors either, but this was different from usual. For the first several moments, while my brain put the pieces of what I was seeing together into a coherent picture, I was paralyzed by fear. My brain locked onto the one image--gun. Really, really big gun.

I spent the rest of my trip home in a fairly introspective mood. I thought a lot about what it means to live in or around DC and about the fact that I more or less accept the fact that we might as well have a big old bullseye right over downtown. That was my first thought, you know. The woman was, I'm sure, a Metro police officer, but the first reaction of my panicked brain was terrorist. From my vantage point, I couldn't see a badge or other insignia, and it was a really, really big gun. And it's been said before that transit systems would make great terrorist targets.

I have more thoughts on this, but I'm saving them for tomorrow. It's late and I'm too tired to be introspective anymore.

Back to high school

I've gotta tell you, folks, I do not care for delayed gratification. When I want something, I want it now. This is why I'm likely to be a bit twitchy for the next few days, at least until my copy of Eclipse arrives from barnesandnoble.com. It actually arrived yesterday, but I returned it to the store because the dust jacket was ripped (I'm compulsive, so sue me) expecting to just do an even exchange for a new copy. B&N's method for dealing with this is pretty asinine, and the upshot is I left without the book but with a new one on the way. If I'd known this would happen, I'd have read the damn thing before I returned it.

But, whatever.

The whole situation has put me in a YA frame of mind. I stopped by the library this evening to find something to fill the hole until Eclipse arrives, and I made use of its painfully small YA section. This is what I love about YA. When you read it as an adult, it's usually a pretty quick read but it's entertaining because you have the benefit of hindsight. Yeah, you can see the disasters coming from a mile away because you actually lived through high school, but it's so easy to get caught back up in that high-school, oh-my-God-he-talked-to-me mindset. Particularly if, like me, you were a geek in high school who never got to do any of the exciting stuff.

So without further ado, my list of awesome YA that even an adult can love.

Twilight
I was late on this bandwagon. I finished the first book last Saturday and the second one last night. The wait for Eclipse is going to be brutal. Partly, I've always had a thing for vampire stories, and the whole star-crossed lover deal is always a winner. But really I think it boils down to the fact that I--I who hate chick lit, who won't watch sappy movies, who thinks Nicholas Sparks is Satan incarnate--I am a sucker for an angsty teenage romance. I mean, think about high school. Think about who you were dating in high school. Can you imagine wanting to spend all of eternity with that person? (You don't count, Jenni.) I mean, not everyone hit the unfaithful-drug addict-high school dropout trifecta with their high school boyfriend like I did, but usually those are not romances that are made to last. But damn if Stephenie Meyer doesn't sell it. I was only about 50 pages in before I realized how hooked I was. I'm doing a terrible job of selling it. But it's awesome.

How I Live Now
You have to respect a book--particularly one aimed at young adults--that takes on a topic like incest but handles it sensitively. Set in the near future, it's a story of falling in love with the absolute wrong person. When war breaks out, American fifteen-year-old Daisy is stranded in England with her cousins—and no adult supervision. As the realities of war sink in to the five children, Daisy and her cousin Edmond find comfort—and love— in each other. Their comfort is short-lived, however, as the children are forcibly separated and Daisy and her cousin Piper struggle to stay alive and find the others.

Rats Saw God
Nobody is more surprised than Steve York when he’s selected as a National Merit finalist. Steve cuts class. He spends all of his time stoned. And he planted a marijuana seed in his guidance counselor’s fern. He’s drugged out, depressed and failing English—despite a 760 verbal SAT score. When his guidance counselor investigates, he finds that two years ago, Steve was a straight-A student. He challenges Steve to write a 100-page paper on the topic of his choice in return for a passing English grade. Steve chooses to explore the last two years of his life in the paper—which may be just what the counselor ordered.

Written by Veronica Mars creator (not musician) Rob Thomas, this is an amazing story of a life totally derailed by one series of events. It's kind of like a Catcher in the Rye for a new generation, if Catcher in the Rye didn't suck so much.

I Am Morgan le Fay
Morgan was born into a world where women have little power, where men make all of the decisions, where a son is valued highly above a daughter. But there is a power reserved for the women alone. It is the power of the Fay, the Faerie. When Morgan learns to harness that magical power for herself, she changes history, for she is the half sister of the legendary King Arthur. She is Morgan le Fay, and her power will bring down Camelot.

I also have a weakness for Arthurian legends. Traditional tellings of the story are very focused on the male characters, and the women are often either evil or spineless. Nancy Springer chooses to focus on Morgan le Fay as a child and young adult, ending the story before she encounters King Arthur as an adult. Morgan is classically seen as a villain in the mythology, but Springer’s take on the tale is that of a good if misguided girl who lets the allure of power lead her astray.

Forbidden
Elinor is lucky, so lucky. She is lucky to be part of True Cause, because True Cause is the True Cause. She is lucky to not be an Outsider, because Outsiders don’t know salvation. They don’t know Howard. Elinor is lucky to be one of Howard’s Chosen, because she will become one of his wives when she turns sixteen. Howard is the Savior, and he chooses very few. Elinor is lucky. But sometimes she doesn’t feel so lucky. Sometimes she wonders why telephones and newspapers are Forbidden. Sometimes she wonders why the Outsiders seem so content with their sinful lives. Sometimes she wonders why she keeps meeting the Outsider boy Jamie, even though she knows it’s wrong. Sometimes she wonders if this is all there is to her life.

Creepy and touching. And creepy.

Thanksgiving Hilarity

I have never actually rickrolled anyone, because I'm not that slick and most people I know wouldn't get it anyway. But I do have to share this, as it is possibly the funniest thing I've seen in weeks.



Awesome. Who cares if only about 10% of the viewing audience has the faintest idea what just happened?

In which I make my family sound like either idiots or monsters, but we're neither, I swear.

This afternoon, my aunt emailed me a link to my great-aunt's obituary. That led to the following conversation:

Me: Did you know that Aunt Vera died?

Dad: Oh, did I forget to tell you that?

This sounds awful, really it does, but it's not like it's the first time. Several years ago I had this conversation with my mother:

Mom: Well, you know, when your [Great] Aunt Nina was alive...

Me: Aunt Nina's dead?

And to be fair, it's not just my parents. My dad once had this conversation with his father (now deceased.)

Grandpa: Well, we just got back from Iowa.

Dad: Why were you in Iowa?

Grandpa: The funeral was very nice.

Dad: Funeral?

Grandpa: The flowers you sent were lovely.

Dad: ...

My aunt had sent flowers in the name of all the "kids" and had forgotten to tell a few people...

Worst daughter ever.

I called my Mom today to wish her a happy birthday, making this the twelfth straight year that I've forgotten my Dad's birthday then felt so guilty about it that I remember my Mom's six days later.

I suck.

It's not as if I didn't know it was coming. On November 11, I thought to myself, "Hmm--I need to remember to call Dad tomorrow." On November 13, I was on the phone with my Mom when she said "Did you call your father yesterday?"

#$%@!

In other news, today was the first Reading Is Fundamental book distribution of the year. The students had a blast, and I am now so tired I can hardly hold my head up.

Attention Mother Nature

I am not ready for this cold.

And I am cold. All the time. Last night O. pulled out the godawful ugly comforter that I nixed last year. He put it on the bed and I didn't even argue, because it was wonderfully warm. Apparently I'm going to have to "put it away" straight into the trash if I want to get rid of it, but not until I get something that matches it in warmth.

The only place I'm not cold these days is work, because when DCPS turns on the heat, they TURN ON THE HEAT. It's about 95 degrees in the hallways. The only reason it's not 95 degrees in the classrooms is because we all have our window unit air conditioners on to balance it out. No, I'm not kidding. We'll have them on all winter. It makes my little environmentalist heart hurt...but not enough to suffer without it.

In which I spend time in the fresh air, and enjoy myself.

Yesterday O. and I hiked section A of the Billy Goat Trail. For him it was fairly easy--I think he is part billy goat--but it's basically at the limit of my (limited) hiking ability. For example, I climbed this:



I really do enjoy things like this, although I'm not very skilled at it. It's worth the hard work though, for views like this:




Hard to believe we're only 20 minutes from DC, isn't it?

The hike took about four hours, and we left late enough that it was pitch black by the time we got back to the car. Luckily the last mile and a half of the hike was along the C&O canal towpath, which is relatively flat. We were lucky that the weather was so nice so late in the year, so this is probably the last time we'll go out there this year...a four hour hike in the cold is probably pushing my limits a bit.