Book Review: Legend by Marie Lu

When my life fell apart after I finished The Hunger Games trilogy (I swear I didn't know what to do with myself for weeks!), I decided to try and find some books like it.
Lo and Behold, I find this list on Pinterest:

I was soo excited. I got a few of these from my library, including another I found that isn't on this list (Enclave, haven't read it yet but it looks really good.)
FYI, I've heard Divergant is the bomb.com, but I haven't read it yet. I have read The Giver (I guess it made it on this list because the world is kinda like Panem? But honestly the book was just weird for me. There will be a separate review for this one), and I had a tough time getting into the book.

But I did find one gem at my library. No one's ever heard of it, (shoot, I didn't even know it existed before I saw this list), but it is truly a diamond in the rough.
Legend by Marie Lu.

I love the story for starters. What pulls you into the book though, is the author's writing style. She tells the story from two different points of view( so for all you hardcore "We should make Suzanne Collins rewrite the books from Peeta's perspective", this book may be for you).
It's a romantic novel that takes place in a world like Panem... sort of. The world is fair to whom it thinks it should be fair to. And to decide that, they have all children take a Trial (a test) when they reach a certain age.
The two main characters are... you guessed it, a boy and a girl. They're completely different, coming from totally opposite backgrounds.
The boy, named Day, comes from a poor family, and is a criminal in the eyes of the law.
The girl, June, is from a rich family and hunts criminals.

June only has her brother (her parents died in a car accident), and when her brother is killed, all the evidence points to Day. And so, she tracks him, being incredibly smart (Day is very clever too though:))
They cross paths, only she doesn't know who he is, and he doesn't know who she is. And... they fall for each other. :)
The story snowballs from there, mixing just the right amount of love and action for my taste.
The story is beautiful, and I've already read it three times.
I'm almost scared to read Enclave (the only other book I have like The Hunger Games at the moment) because I have such high expectations of it.
I definitely think you should give this book a try!

I had no intentions of getting wet.

I was poking around on my laptop when my mom came and told me everyone was going outside. I looked up from my pinteresting to ask why. She told me my dad was going to blow up the kid's pool, and the littles were going to play in it. So, I grabbed my book and went outside and sat on the swing. I wasn't ever getting in the little pool, (I've never liked pools like that, because you can feel every bump and crevice in the ground.)

I talked to my mom for awhile, and when the littles needed someone to keep spraying the slide into the pool for them, I grabbed the dog's leash and went and stood over there. I was totally dry just standing there with the hose, and that was fine by me, because I wasn't wearing a swimsuit.

When they went down the slide, I would deliberately spray them with the hose, but not in the face. But then Holt made me mad. And so I sprayed him in the face. He grabs the hose and kinks it. Which was a slight predicament. And so, without thinking, I run over to Zac's pool, grab the pitcher that's sitting idly, fill it up to the top with water, run back to Holt, who's still standing with the hose, and I dump the entire pitcher of water on his head.

The moment of truth. He has two choices. 

1. Tell on me. This is what he always does. Which is part of the reason why we're mad at each other a lot. So, I fully expected a, "Daddy! Juliana just dumped water on my head!"

2. He unkinks the hose, and sprays me with it.

Either way, I'm screwed. Either I'm getting sent in the house(dry), or I'll be staying outside (very wet.)

He chose the second option. He lets go of the hose, and sticks his finger over the faucet and I am sprayed all over. I scream on cue like a little girl, and dump my pitcher back in the pool. We chased each other around the yard for thirty minutes, alternating between him spraying me with the hose and me dumping water on his head.

I'm glad I got wet. Because him not telling on me, proves he doesn't always hate my guts. And I don't always hate his. It's just that he's a 9 year old boy, and I'm a (almost!) 14 year old girl. And whereas him and Carolina are only a few years apart and have things in common, we don't have anything in common anymore. (Other than our mutual love of Star Wars.) 

So, I was pretty shocked when he unkinked that hose. But it was a good kind of shocked. One that brought a smile to my face even though I was getting soaked. 

Imperfection

Everyone has a couple of "imperfections". 

First, let's define imperfection, shall we?

Imperfection: of, pertaining to, or characterized by defects or weaknesses, not perfect, incomplete, has flaws.

Well, that's just depressing. Flaws, incompletion, weaknesses, defects... that can't be right. Right?

And so, I looked up "Perfect".

Perfect: entirely without any flaws, defects, or shortcomings, accurate, exact, or correct in every detail.

Nobody's perfect though. 

So, I chose to look at the flaws I've seen in me for years, not just in my personality, but in my appearance too, as something that makes me stand out.

Take my weird line right across my nose. It appears when I cry, or when I get really hot. Which means, when my nose is red, I have this line across my nose. I don't know if it's just a perfect (ha!) line of freckles, or what, but it used to drive me insane. It's not pretty. In the least bit. But I'm learning to accept it.

 This "imperfection", I've had since I was born. It's a "dog tag"(I have no clue why it's called that). But basically, it's a little piece of my ear that decided to do it's own thang. So, it does something weird at the top of my ear. But, I actually kinda like it.

 Okay, this is a birthmark. I think. I don't know if I've had it since I was born exactly, but it's been with me for years. At first, I just thought it was a bunch of freckles, but when all the freckles on my face faded that winter, and this thing on my elbow didn't, I decided it wasn't.

So, the point of this is that I started looking at my "imperfections" as one-of-a-kind things.
No one else has a line across their nose, or a dog tag, or a birthmark exactly like mine. God knew what he was doing when he made me. And who am I to judge what he created? So, the final word I looked up was:

Unique:existing as the only one or as the sole example; single;solitary in type or characteristics: having no like or equal; unparalleled, incomparable, not typical; unusual.


I'm unique. I like that word a whole lot better than imperfect.

You arch your back, flex your feet, grab the railing, and propel yourself forward. As you break the surface of the water with your skin, it floods into your ears, hits your eyes, swirls your hair in circles. As you glide through the depths, your heart quickens as your oxygen level drops. You wonder how much longer you can hang on before emerging. There's an object in front of you, and you have to let more of your precious oxygen go, to scurry to the floor. You come straight up to the top, feeling as if your lungs are on fire. When you break the surface again, for a moment your hair is covering your ears completely. This makes the only sound you hear your panting. For a moment you breathe in and out, feeling as if you're the only one in the world, hearing only you breathing. And then you smooth back your hair, and you can hear the playful screaming of your siblings and you feel the chlorine burning your eyes. And to go back to that world, the world only those who venture under the water's surface find; you have to dive again.
And again.

I found this on Pinterest, and just had to share it with y'all :)
If you want to follow my boards on Pinterest, go here: http://pinterest.com/julianatrue/

The Border Collie, Wasps, and Treehouse (The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe)

One of the highlights of my summer every year is playing in my backyard. For those of you who don't know, the reason we bought this house was solely for the yard. We overlooked the "cottage cheese" lamp, the saloon doors in our kitchen, the Pepto Bismo color master bathroom, and my orange and pink bedroom all for this backyard.
And every year me and my nine year old brother and six year old sister play outside when it isn't boiling and when the wasps aren't so thick that you breathe in and you get a few stuck in your airways.
We have tried numerous games over the years. House, Star Wars, Spies, and things we make up. But every year it comes back to one game. Even if we start out playing Star Wars, we end up morphing into this game.
Narnia. I'm Susan, Holt is Peter, and Carolina is Lucy.
This is our game. We set up camps all over the yard, stage battles, and pray for something to wipe out the monstrosity of bees in the yard.
We've always missed one person though.
As you've noticed, we're missing a Pevensie child. No matter which way you dice it, we are missing either Edmund or Peter. 2 girls. 1 boy. It feels so wrong.
And I realized this morning, that it will no longer be that way.
We adopted our final Pevensie child this year.
We are complete.
(And we have a pretty stinkin' cute Aslan too... hear that, Walter?)

I know I've been quiet as of late, but I've been in "crunch" week for a play. See, we did Seussical the Musical. I love this play to death. It's basically all of Dr. Seuss's favorite books combined into one. It's awesome. But when we did it this time, there was a great deal of pain involved for me.
This wasn't the first time I've done this show with CFT. We did it five years ago, the first year I joined. I played the female lead, a little girl named Jojo, who feels she's "Alone in the Universe", because no one listens to her amazing thinks, and no one thinks she can amount to anything. That play was my favorite of all time.
 The memories that exuded from that production have stayed with me through the years. The yellow and orange "bathtub" in which I sang my song, "It's Possible." Cracking jokes with the Cat in the Hat onstage. Falling off set peices. Being frightened as ominous "hunches" came toward me in the dark stage. Yes, I was nine. But, I remember that play like it was yesterday.
I had a few moments on that stage that were mine. Just mine. And I haven't had that since. Especially not this year, when I've had a total of four words all my own.
 I had fun doing Seussical again. I had fun being a "Who", and a "Cadet", and a "Fish".
 But, as I was onstage doing those new dances, and saying those same lines, the memories in my head flooded my brain, overwhelmed me, and left me sobbing in the bathroom stalls at The Art Place. I want to go back. To when times were simpler. When the people in my life made things easier, and not more complicated. When I had lines.
When what gave me joy was not taking pictures of the leads, but being one of those leads. When I didn't blend into the wall.
I love acting to death. But, it drains me.