Sunday, August 28, 2011
epiphanies for a seventeen-year-old girl
I think blogging used to be easier when I didn't talk to anyone. I'd have a lot to say, so I'd say it here. But now if I write what I was planning on writing, my friends will say "You said that already. Play a different record, will you?"
And now I'm left with a whole lot of mediocre post possibilities like "Here's Why I Thought My Awkwardness Was Cured, But It Wasn't" or "Listen To Me Talk About Myself" or "A Failed Attempt At Subliminal Messaging Through Texting". I think I'm going to opt out of all those possibilities. And be a bad blogger, as you are coming to expect from me.
What can I talk about?
Let me talk about how sometimes YA novels get it right. Sometimes they say: "This is how summer is and this is how best friends are and this is how your life is, Teenage Girl, and you can expect plot twists that might have been a tiny bit predictable" and usually you retort snidely, "Oh no, YA Novel, that is not how summer is and that is not how best friends are and that is not how my life is and I can't expect plot twists because I read way too much". And that's how things have been for seventeen years, and you're used to that. You think that's the way it is.
But the cliches of YA fiction must have become cliches somewhere, right? It isn't exactly a coincidence that they all sound the same.
And that's why when you're reading along and suddenly you get hit in the shins, or maybe the heart, by the realization that, "That is how my summer is and that is how my best friends are and that is how my life is, and I can expect plot twists because otherwise I wouldn't sell".
And that is your summer: that glittery, sun-bleached thing that no one expected, those too-long/too-short days of pouring heat and finally-said words, you grew up and got young, you have so much to do and there's always more time until it's over, but the sun sets later at night so stay awake.
And those are your best friends: and you go places with them and nickname them and call them on the phone 6 days in a row without feeling creepy and they like snowcones and cats, too.
And that is your life: it's good and it's hard and you're neurotic and selfish. You don't know what you want but you know you've got something good. You're tired and tireless. You know what to say but not what to think. You walk in circles, but at least you've got company. You're happy and mad, all day long.
And those plot twists. They happened. And they'll happen when you least expect them. (Or when you expect them a tiny bit, but this is YA, and what can we say? We're cliches. We're a little bit predictable.)
And don't stop reading. It's getting to the good part.
Call me "Disaster Girl".