I admit that I never read bestselling, blockbuster novels. I wait a few years, and especially since I’m a little low on money these days it’s hard to afford the $15 shiny books in Barnes & Noble (that I never go to anyway because the one closest to me went out of business right around the time Borders did; go figure). Anyway, The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini was my first borrowed library ebook, and the process was smooth and wonderful. Two weeks is more than enough time for me to absorb books like this.

Anyway, on to the actual review! Because I stink at summaries, I’ll simply give you the book’s blurb:

The first Afghan novel to be written in English, The Kite Runner tells a sweeping story of family, love, and friendship against a backdrop of history that has not been told in fiction before, bringing to mind the large canvases of the Russian writers of the nineteenth century. But just as it is old-fashioned in its narration, it is contemporary in its subject-the devastating history of Afghanistan over the last thirty years. As emotionally gripping as it is tender, The Kite Runner is an unusual and powerful debut.

Amir grows up in a pre-war Afghanistan with his servant and best friend, Hassan. The two are inseparable. But when Amir, desperate to become worthy in his father’s eyes, and Hassan fall victim to abuse and retribution, things fall apart. From there, it’s a tale of finding what it means to be honorable and loyal as well as truly “good.” On top of that, you get a lot of Afghan culture and tradition woven into the plot, which is something I personally enjoyed, as I never knew about Afghan lifestyles and idiosyncrasies. It also tells of an Afghanistan history I never knew about — all I knew of the place was that we’re currently fighting there, and this was an interesting eye-opener to their culture as well as what the people there struggle with.

The story itself is not happy, but it’s truly brilliant in that solemn way. You walk away pondering things. Also, the ending is very satisfying (because to me that’s something important to know about a book). I recommend this and give it a five out of five stars.

The pre-Civil War South was mainly under the Democratic party until they lost the Civil War and Reconstruction began. One Andrew Johnson (not Andrew Jackson) made it so that the white rich of the South could never vote or hold office again, crippling their ability to influence the politics they had dominated for so long. Thus by the end of the Reconstruction, with the Compromise of 1877 (and people like carpetbaggers and scalawags), most states slowly became Republican and have stayed so to this day.

One of these is not like the other.

This is something I find incredibly ironic, given how staunchly Republican the South is currently and how desperate the current Republican nominees (I’m looking at you two, Gingrich and Romney) seem to be to prove their Republican roots.

What do you think? Did you know this about the South? Because I sure didn’t until yesterday. History classes are fun, yes?

In the mean time, here’s a pretty rock from the Houston Museum of Natural Science:

I think this is quartz

Of course what’s a science museum without a T-rex fossil?

It really was a huge beast

Also, the Houston Museum of Natural Science has the Butterfly Center. It’s basically a simulated rainforest area where butterflies roam about in huge quantities. It’s really pretty. Here’s one of the better shots (all of these were taken with my iPhone because I forgot the better camera at home. Woops).

I don't know what type of butterfly this is though. Anyone care to guess?

So tell me, y’all, how was your weekend?

But why can’t God be the meaning behind the Earth’s place in our solar system while science explains and studies logically what’s going on to make our Earth rotate around the Sun?

God is the reason I wake up in the morning. My faith in him gives me an optimism I wouldn’t have otherwise. Science tells me, logically, that I sleep at night because of my body’s functions and processes. Science tells me that I wake up and am able to process what I see, hear, feel, and smell because of other various processes. But that doesn’t change the fact that, as far as my meaning in life is concerned, God is at the end of my path in life regardless. All I do is to try and find my meaning. I feel God gave me the gift of writing, so I pursue that. Science might tell me that I just have a higher proficiency in the side of my brain that processes words and is responsible for creativity. Nothing more. But that doesn’t give that process meaning. It just explains it logically, by what we can study and define.

So I think it should be religion and science, a separation of both but still coexisting within a sort of system. Sort of like the separation of church and state. By allowing the state to be the lawkeepers, it gives individuals a broader religious freedom. By allowing logic to be defined by science, it gives me the right to pursue meaning through God and my faith, as I choose, not as science logically dictates. Because having an explanation doesn’t give it value any more than, to some people, God is worth having faith in. And that’s perfectly okay. So long as you give me room to be who I want to be.

Sorry, this has been on my mind since yesterday and I wanted to get it out here. You can shoot me now if you want; I promise you won’t get too many more religious posts here.

What do you think about science and religion? Please be aware that any rude or otherwise derogatory comments will never be approved and will be deleted.

Those “packages” were just specific books with a web access code or something like that — things you could get separately only the book is specifically for this college system and you have to use it. At least some of the professors make you use it, others don’t.

Even without those packages, textbooks are expensive. One of my science textbooks cost $144 new at the college’s bookstore. On Amazon I managed to get one used for $66, but my professor said I had to have that edition. Otherwise I would’ve gotten an older edition for way less. We did that with my husband’s English book as well as my American History textbook (which I managed to get an as ebook, yay).

Total, if we’d bought everything at the college bookstore, we would’ve paid more than $1000 between my husband and myself. Because we didn’t buy all the books, just the darn custom ones with web codes (which we might turn in and just get the codes, but more on that in a minute), we spent around $300 less. It could have been more if we’d realized those custom packages weren’t anything special and we could’ve done without, but we didn’t know at the time.

So, how do you get cheap books? In a word, Amazon. Or Half Price Books, or any place like that that offers a expansive list of used copies. I’d recommend Amazon because it was a good $70 cheaper than Half Price Books. The other place to go to would be a local used bookstore or used textbook store.

Other than that, don’t be afraid to get older editions. Most of the time the newer editions only flip up a few things as well as add on slightly more current information, but most of that information (especially for history classes) you’ll never get to because you just don’t have that kind of time in a semester. Who actually gets to the end of the textbook by the end of the semester, anyway? Now, sometimes your professor will insist on you getting the newest edition, and that’s unfortunately where you’re out of luck. Beat that price by trying to buy used, or buy new at Amazon, but never buy new at your college’s bookstore. Remember that $144 science book? Well, brand new on Amazon, it was $95, which is way less expensive.

In short, buy an older used (or even new, depending on how particular you are) edition of most of your textbooks, but if you have to buy the latest edition, get it on Amazon or Half Price Books or some site like that. I still recommend Amazon though. They had the best deals, and you can trade your textbooks back to them for varying amounts of Amazon gift cards. That $66 science textbook can be returned for a gift card anywhere from $20 – 58. Either way, it’s extra money for a used copy.

Oh PS! If you have a math book or any book that required you to have an online access code, check the code’s website (ex: WebAssign.net). You might be able to get the code there as well as an online copy or at least access online to the book, saving you a lot of money. I didn’t know that beforehand and bought my math book when I could’ve just bought the code and gained access to the book that way.

PPS: I haven’t found a good reason for the price on textbooks, but if someone has one please educate me (haha, see what I did there?). Thanks.

What do you think about textbook prices? Are you in college? How’s college going for you so far?

This speech is incredibly moving. This was actually the first time I watched the full speech; throughout high school they would just show a snippet of MLK Jr., saying, “I have a dream,” but nothing else. The entire thing is worth looking at. Seventeen minutes well spent on this Monday.

If you can’t watch the video, here is the speech’s text (which was taken from this website and is not mine):

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we’ve come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we’ve come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the “unalienable Rights” of “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.”

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we’ve come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God’s children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.

We cannot turn back.

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: “For Whites Only.” We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until “justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.”

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest — quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of “interposition” and “nullification” — one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; “and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.”

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

And this will be the day — this will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with new meaning:

My country ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim’s pride,

From every mountainside, let freedom ring!

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.

And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.

Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that:

Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.

From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:

Free at last! Free at last!

Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!

Here’s a neat article about Martin Luther King Jr., from deviantART, that has some nice information and drawings (since it’s an art site) as well.

What do you think of the speech? Is racism still an issue today? What do you think Mr. King would say if he stepped into this Monday and took a look around at our society?

So far, I’m on the waitlist for five, which is the max amount you can place a hold on. Meaning I haven’t read any of the ebooks (yet), but I’m excited to. These ebooks are ones I can’t afford to buy ($9.99 – $12.99, more or less) at the moment. Right now my ebook price range is anywhere from .99 – 7.99, though I prefer the 2.99 – 5.99 area. Anything above 7.99 I just can’t justify. I mean, at 9.99 I’d be better off buying a print copy (which is, I think, what the publishers are aiming for, but that’s a totally different issue). We’ll see if waiting for an ebook copy of a story is worthwhile or if I was better off not bothering. On one of the waitlists (for the book 1Q84) I’m number twenty-seven in line to borrow the book. On the other ones I placed a hold on (Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, Wicked, Soulless, and The Kite Runner) I’m only number one or two on the list, so that’s not so bad. But with the really popular books, the waitlist can sometimes be up to seventy or eighty people! How long of a wait do you think that is? Haha.

Now, the default period for ebook lending is fourteen days. Two weeks to read a book. Not bad. You can change this to seven days if you want, which is nice. Options are good. I love choices and variety.

Anyway, Overdrive also offers other formats. Audio files, different ebook formats other than Kindle, and so on. It’s really neat and I sincerely hope Overdrive manages to expand its selection of titles as well as the copies available. I mean, I know physical libraries can only stock so many copies of a single title, but why have that limitation online? I mean, maybe have twenty copies available of a popular title (for a limited time if publishers throw a fit) to meet demand. Because an eighty-person hold list is ridiculous.

What do you think about libraries lending ebooks? Is it a good idea or a bad one?

This one is called Thor's Helmet. If you look at it sideways, you can see the horns of what could be a Viking helmet. Or something.

Oh, and to cheer up any negativity you might have at the moment (and I sincerely hope you’re not negative and that you have a great day), here’s a cute puppy:

What do you think of space? And isn’t that puppy freaking adorable?

Even the cat can't resist checking its email every two seconds.

So I tend to spend a lot of time on my iPhone or on my laptop. Who doesn’t have a phone nowadays that connects to the internet, or a tablet or something along those lines? While all of those devices are brilliant and proof of our innovation and creativity, I’ve noticed I have a strange compulsive addiction to checking my phone. Email messages, online account inboxes, things I know are empty or haven’t changed in the last five minutes since the last time I checked.

I’m not the only one. Some people check Facebook religiously while others tweet what they had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. No, really.

Okay, Elisa, what are you trying to get at? Well, when I write, I had a hard time focusing on my writing. Instead, I keep rejecting the urge to open up a new tab in Google Chrome and re-checking my deviantART messages (that I never answer at that moment anyway, just check on like some weirdo). As a result, writing takes twice as long compared to when I write things down in a notebook.

I wrote a short story about a gryphon the other day. It’s decent and it might end up in my mythological creatures collection, Beings of Myth and Fancy, but we’ll see. Anyway, I was trying to type it out in One Note when I finally decided to say screw it and write it out by hand. It took me thirty minutes to write — and then transcribe — two thousands words. Not bad, eh? So I’m going to experiment for a while with this. Test turning off the internet and then writing, writing with the internet on but closing all the browsing windows. Maybe I can get my stamina back up to the point where it’s faster to type out my work again. Or maybe hand writing that story was a fluke. Who knows.

What do you think? Does the internet help all the spiffy iPhones and Androids and mobile devices in general enhance how distracted we are? Is this a good or bad thing for productivity?