Literature

I love literature. I am amazed at the way in which immortal words are able to influence generation after generation long after the author has moved on. They have the ability to inspire words of our own, or at least thoughts of our own, and sometimes even the will to act upon those thoughts; to change out little corner of the universe and expand our circle of influence. I believe that when literature has done this, it has fulfilled its purpose.

I have always envied those who are able to write about their otherwise boring lives in a way that captivates and seizes the attention of their once passive but now entranced readers. I have found few authors that are successful in this quest, but when I do, I can't get enough. I am amazed by their ability to employ charm and wit to captivate readers; to ensnare them in the telling of even the sweet, if not overwhelmingly exciting, novels. Their stories are ones in which anyone suddenly feels the unwavering desire to be part of; to somehow capture the feelings depicted there and implement them in their own lives. I don't know how they do it, but I am certain that this is the type of author I wish someday to be. I want to be captivating.

The Meaning of Literature

As I contemplate the ending of "Breaking Dawn," the fourth and final installment of the beloved "Twilight" series, I am left wondering on the definition of good literature. Is a good book one with a happy ending, picture-perfect, leaving the reader with a mushy warm feeling all over? Or is it, rather, ended poignantly? Should literature reflect the good, bad and ugly reality that is life, or it literature something that people should be able to escape to when the real world is just a bit too much? If the first is true, then the ending of the book was perfection. Bella, the weak, self-conscious anti-hero turn beautiful, graceful and, above all, the ultimate hero. A perfect romance was also carried out, one that every reader has been dreaming of even since they cracked the book and read the opening chapters of "Twilight." And yet I am left wondering if that is truly what makes good literature. I believe that the same quandary easily carries over to other forms of media as well. For example, should Meredith Grey end up with Mr. McDreamy in the end as is every "Grey's-Anatomy"-loving viewer's dream, or should the series end as reality dictates, with Mr. McDreamy dying on his was to end a misguided relationship in order to have good karma as he embarks on a renewed relationship with Grey? This ending would provide for additional character growth and development. If there was no grief in the story line (something, however, that "Grey's" has seen plenty of), then there would be no growth. This fact is obvious. But is that the point? Is media meant to be an escape from or an analysis of reality? I guess this question is the reason behind the plethora of genres in existence and the unending variety of endings given to every story line.

My amendment...

Ok, I have been corrected. Although I knew this was the case when I wrote the post and merely failed to mention it, I would like to state for the record that I know that Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman" and various other feature films, as well as Kirsten Dunst in "Spiderman" have both made viable and significant contributions to the ginger community through their performances in said movies. I do have somewhat of a funny story to tell of an experience I had a while back in reference to "Spiderman." I was in a Blockbuster on the island of Guam, where very few gingers reside (luckies, I know) and this young man walks up to me and asks if I am the one girl that was in that "Spiderman" movie. Now, I am pretty sure that this query was based on the sole fact that we had the same color hair. Although, thinking back on that experience now, I am little offended, because I remember Kirsten's hair in that movie, and as I recall, it is a red similar to the color of fire trucks and stop signs... Jerk.

Sunshine Freckle Time

So after pondering my "too white for white" moment, I started thinking of other downfalls of the ginger situation. What I came up with is a characteristic that affects a rather large percentage of the red head population. We as a ginger community have been, what I consider to be, blessed with the most easily ridiculed hair color and a skin-tone the likes of which burns fire-red with mere momentary contact with the sun. However, the one characteristic typical of red heads that I would have preferred to have been passed on to another hair-color clan is freckles. I mean, come on. Now, I am not referencing the occasional smattering of freckles that has the ability to appear on the faces of brunettes, blondes and red heads alike. No, those are nice, tasteful, and hardly obtuse. What I am referring to are the brown spots that tend to consume an onlooker's entire attention; the distractingly dark patches that appear not only on the face, but on hands, knees, shoulders, elbows, feet and practically any other body part, visible or not, and which typically occur solely on red heads. Those freckles that hide dormant in the shade, merely the simple array enjoyed by non-ginger persons, but the likes of which strike loudly and with a vengeance when introduced to sunlight. Now, seriously, this hardly seems fair. In my opinion, the unfavorable genetic characteristics should be equally distributed among the various hair-color groups, but no. They are unthoughtfully and unequivocally added to the plight of the red head. Well, my fellow gingers, it seems that this must be our burden to bare. The best that we have to hope for is that, in our ever-vigilant attempts to avoid the sun's rays, we will be the least prominent hair color to be diagnosed with skin cancer.

Too white for the whitest foundation

You know you're a ginger when... you're too white for the whitest shade of foundation.

I went into Nordis today to purchase new foundation and asked the associate at the Clinique counter for a color match. So she does her thing, of course grabbing the lightest color available, and I think nothing of it. I mean, hey, it's Colorado, right? And we are just getting into the good weather. No one can be too tan yet. And so the associate puts a little on my jaw and says, "So, um, are you planning on tanning this summer?" I assume she is asking because she doesn't want to go too light and for me to have to buy a new color right away, but... wrongo... she continues, "Because this is the lightest shade we carry, and its a little too dark for you." Well, there you have it. I am officially whiter than the whitest white... Nice...

A Failed Generation

Today I purchased an electronic dictionary. I know, this (coupled with the little pink book light I also recently acquired) officially labels me a geek in the extreme, but I love it! I feel as though my generation has been crippled by the introduction of the "spell check" into common usage. The first, last and only time I remember having a spelling list was in Mrs. Hensley's seventh grade English class. Apparently, the need for knowledge on how words are spelt ends with the commencement of grade school and the subsequent introduction into the world of word processors. 

Up Up and Away

You wanna know something that has always bugged me? In fact, it has been the means to the ruining of multiple otherwise perfectly enjoyable feature films. And it is this: the main character in movies has never, ever, everrrrr been a ginger. Now, let me explain why this has caused me so much dismay. This trend has given credence to the already popular opinion that red heads are good for nothing more than the sidelines; the "crazy", or as Ben likes to put it, "unstable" ones of society present merely for occasional slapstick entertainment (recall the ever popular "I Love Lucy"). However, recent mass media productions have shown that there is change in the air. That the ginger community will no longer sit idly by and be objects of meaningless hilarity. This evolution in the role of red heads in motion pictures was initiated by the ever charming and delightful Amy Adams in "Enchanted." It was further proliferated by the subtly captivating and thought provoking (although this opinion may be argued further at a later time) performance of Isla Fisher in  "Confessions of a Shopaholic." Regardless of one's personal stance in the ongoing debate on the merit of red heads, I think it is clear that the prestige of the once overlooked and highly undervalued ginger may be on the rise.