An Unorganized Post

I'm not quite sure what I want to blog about, but I haven't really blogged in a while.


Conflicted. I'm very conflicted right now. It's not even important....just inner turmoil caused by ambiguity. It's really my own fault. I could have resolved this issue a long time ago, but no. I fail at resolving things apparently.
Why must humans be driven to interaction with other human beings? It makes life so much more complicated, I swear. Arghhhh. Sometimes I wish solitude could be enough, but no matter how hard I try to convince myself of this fact, it never is.
I can't learn US History. I got this horrendous grade on a five question quiz the other day. (I blame it partially on the fact that there were only five questions, but nonetheless.) I just...can't do it. I don't know why, but it's really starting to frustrate me. What am I going to do about the AP test? I don't even want to think about the AP test.
I have tons of questions, about me, other people, the future, life in general, etc., but I don't even know if I should be asking them. But then I wonder if I'm satisfied not knowing, having those questions eat at the back of my brain, and I realize that I'll never know enough to satiate my curiosity.
A lot of times people ask me, "Did you like [insert book here]?" I reply in an inconsequential manner, and then later I reflect upon that question, and I'm not sure. I love language, especially written, and sometimes I feel as if I base my taste in literature off of that aspect.
Did I like All the King's Men? OK--yes. A resounding yes. It was awesome. It was eye-opening, it was masterfully written, and the characters.... As I sat there pondering Willie Stark, Adam and Anne Stanton, Judge Irwin, and Jack Burden, I gained an immense amount of respect for Robert Penn Warren as I realized that I'm not supposed to love all of the characters. (I know what you're thinking: Emmeline, it took you this long to realize that? Yes, yes it did. I think I knew this prior to reading ATKM, but it just hit me.) They're supposed to seem like a real person, more than just words on a page or a figment of my mind. Warren illustrated their faults, their strengths and weaknesses in such a manner that I couldn't help but feel as if they were real. Sure, authors I've read before have done that, but perhaps not as well as Warren. He told the story in full, the raw and the refined, the ugly and the pretty, and I can really appreciate that. In a way, it reminded me of Madame Bovary. This correlation doesn't necessarily apply to the style or plot, but rather it made me realize something about myself.
I love how literature can do that to you.
I feel like I keep blogging about books and literature and my feelings about them. Conclusion: I need a life.
But....on one hand, sometimes I feel like when people ask me that question, "Did you like...?" they just want a yes or no. If I were to jump off on this tangent about the characters, the style, and realizations I had about myself and the universe as I read the book, people either a) wouldn't care or b) not appreciate it. So, I tell my blog, and I feel a bit better.