Daisy Bomb

Mood: happy; neutral; thoughtful
Currently: getting distracted from my mountain of history homework
Listening to: El Manana --Gorillaz

I finally went back to reading Elsewhere by Gabrielle Zevin and it's very interesting. It gives dying a whole different aspect, I kind of thought of the same idea, which intrigued me even more. Basically it's about this girl who dies at fifteen who then she goes to Elsewhere (Heaven, as we know it), only to learn that she was going to grow younger until she was back to being a baby, where she would then be sent back to Earth to be born. While reading, I felt something. I wasn't depressed reading about a girl who felt like she had so many things left she wanted to do back on Earth. But I wasn't too sure what emotion I had that would have made sense. I found an interesting part.

"'Were you happy?' asks Aldous.
Liz thinks about Aldous's question. 'Why do you want to know?'
'Don't worry. It's not a test. It's just something I like to ask all my advisees.'
In truth, she hadn't put much thought into whether she was happy before. She supposed that since she never thought about it, she must have been happy. People who are happy don't really need to ask themsleve if they are happy or not, do that? They just are happy, she thinks.
'I suppose I must have been happy,' Liz says. And as soon as she says it, she knows it's true. One silly errant teardrop runs out of the corner of her eye. Liz quickly brushes it away. A second tear follows, and then a third, and it isn't long before she finds she is crying."

And as I read that, I didn't feel depressed, it was more like mystified. I wondered if it was just the individual, the writer, or us. As far as I know, I've only met people who asked themselves, who've sometimes asked me if they were really happy--as if I had a response for them, especially when they didn't have a response for themself. Are there really just individuals on Earth who've never really thought of themself as unhappy or particularlly miserable, or was that just the author's doing? Or maybe, is it just us? Do we think we don't have a happy life or that we are unfortunate? Are we expecting too much out of "happiness"? Do we think too much about what happiness is and want more than we should? Or is it that life is just what it is? Unfair, cruel, mean, harsh, tough, and gives us more suffering than it gives us joy? I wonder.
I want to be Daisy.

Literature Response

I'm supposed to be doing homework right now (and I'm certainly going to regret getting distracted when night comes), but I was almost done with Lord of the Flies, so I felt the need to continue reading. So I finished it a few moments ago and felt a need to say that I thought it was an amazing book. A quick summary merged with a few of my thoughts about the book's meaning. There may be some things I've written that may spoil the story, so don't read it if you don't wish to know the ending.
It's a story taking place during wartime. A plane full of young British boys have been shot down, the pilot died and only the passengers survived on an unknown island. At first, everyone was excited. No adults, no rules, and everything was theirs. They worked together in the beginning, but slowly, things fell apart. One of the main characters, Ralph, was elected by the other boys to be chief. As their randomly chosen chief, Ralph seemed wise enough to know that in order for them to be rescued, they needed smoke, a signal for help. One of the other main characters, Jack, didn't think so much about the smoke. He was obsessed with the idea of hunting the pigs that lived on the island, killing, bringing back meat, and what he really wanted was the power of being the leader. The story progresses and everything starts to fall apart around Jack. He became savage and converted most of the other boys into uncivil beings. Jack and the other savages were so separated from society, their minds so twisted by their surroundings, that the idea of killing was not disturbing. The small society on the island broke into pieces. They slowly became humans that not twitch at the sight of the blood of pigs, or even the blood of humans. Nearing the end of the book, the boys were saved. But after Ralph finished speaking with the naval officer that came to rescue them, Ralph's mind flickered back to the images of the pristine island which was then set into a crazed flame. And he started to weep. Crying for the losses that were made, crying for the end of what was innocence, and crying because of the darkness and evil in man's heart. He felt his share of the horrible thing that is called war and what violence does to a people.
I really liked the ending. It really sums up how Ralph has been feeling and it also brings back the whole war thing back into perspective, since while you're reading, you focus more on the boys and their struggles to live on the island. Then the moral of the story kind of pops out at you, stuff like how war is so terrible, without rules we all may go crazy (unfortunately, some people still go against them, small or big, rule breakers or lawbreakers), and that violence brings out the monster in you. Not only does the theme of the book really stand out to me, but it's how I felt while reading. During the entire book, I felt the frustration and the anger. I felt terrified and my heart started to beat faster. The book was simply amazing because it brought so many vivid colors, but morbid images as well. I feel a deeper appreciation for adults and the rules that they guard for our benefits.