New Song: The World Don't Stop for a Broken Heart

Verse 1:
I would give you the world if I had to.
Anything to prove my love.
I'd raise the hills, I'd crush the mountains,
Drain the ocean of their floods.

But you gave me the coldest shoulder,
And a note that said you're never coming back.
I thought I did ev'rything right,
Then why's my heart under attack?

Chorus:
The world don't stop spinnin' cause I cry.
The clock don't stop tickin'; I just watch time fly by.
My heart is achin', the world is breakin', it's fallin' apart.
But the world don't stop for a broken heart.
No, the world don't stop for a broken heart.

Verse 2:
I thought the sun shone only for you.
I thought the stars glittered in your name.
I thought I meant it when I said I love you.
I guess I thought you felt the same.

Chorus:
The world don't stop spinnin' cause I cry.
The clock don't stop tickin'; I just watch time fly by.
My heart is achin', the world is breakin', it's fallin' apart.
But the world don't stop for a broken heart.
No, the world don't stop for a broken heart.

Bridge:
There's something about the way,
You looked on that final day,
The day that you said goodbye...
There's something that you said,
Something that's stuck in my head,
That day you told me not to cry--

Final Chours:
The world don't stop spinnin' cause I cry.
The clock don't stop tickin'; I won't watch life pass me by.
My heart is achin', the world's not breakin', not fallin' apart.
The world don't stop for a broken heart.
No, the world don't stop for a broken heart.
And if the world don't stop for a broken heart,
Then I won't stop for my broken heart.

©Paul Randall Adams 2011

Review and Reflections: Beastly by Alex Flinn

I finished reading Beastly by Alex Flinn about an hour ago. It's a wonderful adaptation of a classic fairy tale. It's a good reflection of modern society, too. Albeit, it's a little out-of-scope as far as how American high schoolers TRULY act, but I think a little over exaggeration is not necessarily a bad thing. It's certainly not "High School Musical" by any means.

A short synopsis of this book: Kyle Kingsbury is the son of a network news anchor, and has been taught that looks mean absolutely everything in the world. Rich and beautiful, Kyle rules his private and very elite high school. Every guy wants to be him and every girl wants to date him. Every girl except for one--Kendra. Kendra, a gothic non-conformist is the first to ever show Kyle Kingsbury just how ugly he is, and Kyle is out for vengeance. Soon, he finds that he messed with the wrong Goth and his life is changed forever. In a flash, Kyle goes from man to beast and has two years to feel True Love's kiss or he will be stuck like that, forever.

Sounds like a familiar story, right? It is. And Alex Flinn does everything right. She incorporates the importance of roses (a mainstay in all "Beauty and the Beast" fairytale versions.) She makes the characters believable (save for the hulking beast who we'll get back to later.) And she, even, admittedly asks the questions that I think anybody familiar with the original story have asked themselves. As I said earlier, Flinn paints a great picture of human nature. She notes the social hierarchy that's not only in schools but in the real-life working world. She highlights the emphasis that society has on appearances. But she also offers an amazing commentary on true love that makes a hopeless romantic like me truly dig this book.

I like how playful Flinn is as a writer--I laughed a lot during reading this, even in the serious parts. For instance, I enjoy that the love interest in this version is named Linda (though she's called Lindy.) Linda is Spanish for Beauty, for those who don't know, just as Belle is French for Beauty in the classic telling of this fairytale.

"It's strange, though." [Lindy] said. "People make such a big deal about looks, but after a while, when you know someone, you don't notice anymore, do you? It's just the way they look."

I happened to have seen the movie adaptation of Beastly the weekend it opened. It was a very cute movie, and actually pretty close to the book. Where it wasn't identical to it, it at least remained true to the feeling of the book. I would have preferred a stronger presence of the magic that made its way through the entire book--for instance the magic mirror--but all in all, it was very good. My main problem with it was the interpretation of the Beast. Flinn admits, in the Author's Note at the end of Beastly that she based the Beast's appearance on the beast that is portrayed in La belle et la bête, the 1940's French film. He was supposed to look like this guy! Or like the Beast in Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Mostly, I feel that if the author goes out of their way to describe the way a character looks as many times as Flinn did, then that artistic vision should be honored. There were no blurred lines or grey areas about what the Beast was supposed to look like.

Instead, the movie creators went for something else. Not necessarily bad, don't get me wrong. In fact the Adrian that they created was much more believable. But it did deter from the feeling of the story. They made him look like just a pierced and tattooed skinhead, not a Beast. And it's not hard to love somebody who looks like a person. The beauty of this story was that he did not look human. It was beautiful that Lindy had to search for the human inside of the Beast.

But if that's my only argument, then I guess it was a job well done. :)

Confessions of a College Grad

Does anybody remember when it seemed so glamorous to graduate from college? TV and society reinforce time and time again that the only way to do anything in this life is to get a degree. So you work and work and strive and struggle and starve until you walk that stage, shake hands with the heads of the college, smile from the camera and steal away with your degree before you can get caught in an awkward conversation with somebody's mom who you don't quite remember.

And then, the magnitude of everything hits. No longer do you have advisor telling you what classes to take and when. No longer can you get by on the minimum wage pay check you were making. And the stacks and stacks and stacks of applications. The minute details that employers request, the mundane information that doesn't apply to your actual ability. Suddenly, you realize "this is it, I'm an adult." And you have to pick up and move on. There's no weaning into adulthood. There are no more baby steps. Just suddenly, you are thrown into being a "grown-up."

And, oddly, I'm loving it. It's kind of nice to be making my own choices, doing my own things. And yes, I have found a loophole into this adulthood thing. And yes, I am living with my parents. But I answer to nobody. I have no homework to do. I go to work, and then I'm through. If I want to go out, I can and not feel guilty for not practicing or not doing homework.

I wake up in the morings, I drink my coffee, I write some, I watch "The People' Court." I get dressed for work, come home and do it all over again the next day. It's somewhat monotonous, but that will change when I'm actually in my career, and not just working a job.

Wal-Mart is actually very kind to me. They worked with my Student Teaching schedule, whenever I needed them to. They let me have Sundays off so I can go and worship my Lord. They're good to me. And in return, I'm good to them. I do my job well. All of my jobs. Whether I'm behind the Customer Service Desk, at a cash register, greeting people at the door or actually being the Customer Service Manager (which is my actual job title,) I treat customers well and am praised for my service. But that's the way I operate; I take my job seriously.

I'm still crossing my fingers for a teaching job to come my way, but until them, I'm pretty content.

Come June, I'll be married. And then who knows what's coming next besides God? But I'm willing to take it all with a smile. :)

God bless you all.

In Honor Of/ Channeling Kelli Fontenot

I sit in the first class meeting of Advanced Composition, a sickening mixture of excitement and exhaustion blurring the edges of my vision, when a tall, bone thin man enters the room. His thin-framed, wire-rimmed glasses sit atop a somewhat bulbous, hooked nose. He has three patches of hair, centered around a bald spot; they hardly meet each other, save for a thin shading of charcoal grey hair to act as a common ground.

His pants are probably two inches too tight and three inches too short, and yet this seemed to fit him perfectly. When he speaks, his voice is scratchy, something akin to the way Matthew McConaughey speaks in his movies.

We spend thirty seconds too long on the pronunciation and origin of his name--the "c" in Mischler is silent and it is of German descent. Both sides of his family are German, he tells us, by coincidence and not purpose.

He very promptly informs us that the focus of this English class is Science and I can already tell that I will either strongly like or strongly dislike this class and this teacher.

As I leave the classroom, the fragments of notes float on the board, glaring at my fervent belief that I will not to write them down.

In the Eye of the Beholder

Has anybody ever considered intelligence to be a form of beauty? I mean--intellect is relevant, right? Or rather being smart is all relevant. For instance, a political expert will seem endlessly smarter than I am--I don't dabble too much in politics, I don't claim to be learned, knowledgeable or well-read in that field. A debate against one of these people would render me speechless, dumb.

But on the same token--I can discuss literature until the sun goes black. I love literature, and I love to look into the intricacies of writing. I love to read a book and explain the allusions, to dwell upon the hidden theme, to pick out the meta messages. Compared to others, I would seem smart, I would seem to be an expert.

This is the true beauty of intelligence, right? That everybody has their own intelligence in a certain area.

I for instance am book smart--I nestle perfectly into a classroom, raise my hand, and regurgitate text book information, with a few of my own inferences and opinions, and smile as the rest of the students take notes on what I've said. I've been told I'm a good "explainer," that I'm good at breaking down text book information and saying in a way that makes people understand.

My mom's brand of smarts, however, falls outside of the world of Academia. She is people smart--she's good at reading people in a way that even I can't. She's also very "of the world." If she were put out in the wild and forced to survive on her own, she could. She'd be able to hunt and cook and barter when the need arose. She'd be able to survive. I admire that--because as important as it is for me to know that Haydn was born in Austria, it would never help me in survival. I could never impress a bear into not eating me; I could never help a fisherman study so that he would give me a free fish. I'd be lost. I admire her for being smart of the world.

My dad--the furthest of all my family from fitting into a classroom, has an odd sense of intuition. And he's a great cook. Both intelligence that I lack. I've come to find that the more you rely on teachers and textbooks to teach you, the less you remember how to read what your gut is telling you. I am not intuitive--if my stomach says "don't continue" in whatever I'm doing, I don't hear it. I'm too analytical. I pass that off as indigestion, heat exhaustion, and any number of other things. I often don't realize that I've rationalized my way out of intuition until it's far too late to do anything about it. Also--while I'm a decent enough baker, I'd never be able to cook like my dad does. He has the ability to look at a recipe and know exactly what kind of tweaking it needs to be perfect. He's efficient and knowledgeable in the kitchen--it's something I wish I had.

It's funny: even I am guilty of going about and judging people who are not as smart as me. "She failed the history test." or "He's never read My Sister's Keeper." or "He's never heard of Locke." And yet, they have every right to look at me and say "He can't hunt." or "He'll never be able to rebuild a car." and be just as smug. The only issue is that I would be angry--I would be hurt. It's not my fault that I have low aptitudes for kinesthetics and tactile objectives. But according to not only me, but many others as well--it is your fault if you're not literary minded, if you're bad at math, if you're not good in a classroom.

What a poor double standard we all set for one another.

Clearly, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And intelligence is more beautiful than anything else we have to offer this world.

The Semester from Hell

I counting down the days until this semester is over. So much has happened in these four short months that I swear a hit TV show could be lasted four seasons using material from just my life.

Let's recap:

Incredible Hulk ripped our door off the wall
Incredible Hulk smoked pot in my apartment
Incredible Hulk invited CREEPY SMOOTHIE GUY over to my apartment
Played the Wizard of Oz (that was fun)
Went to TMEA, came back with Bronchitis
Housing up the air

The Week from Hell:
Computer Crashed
Cat Died
Sneezed; viola broke

Taught a guy that the rapping mentioned in Poe's The Raven was not, in fact, rap music
Thwarted off creepy stalkers
Slept very little
Had a major argument over something minor

If we include last summer:
"My pants don't have buddons!"
and finding a dead body

I pretty much should have won best leading actor in a comedy series by now.

But at least I'm still smiley.

Good luck on your finals, all who don't read my meager blog.

What's Good for the Goose

A criticism of double standards:

So--please allow me to blow off some steam. An argument arose between a friend and I today, that really brought a lot of things to a head. Some harsh things were said, and while I do not regret the things that I said, I do regret the way that I went about saying them.

It has been brought to my attention that I love too hard and I care too much. By more than one person. I have been informed that I allow people to walk all over me, and I am beginning to see it. For example, in this particular argument, my friend and I had worked together on a project. I merely asked this person for the written copy of what we had done, because during the planning process, my computer was not working. I was informed that I was being unfair, and that they should not have had to do all of the work. As I recall, typing the written part of a group effort is not "doing all the work," as the partners had to contribute to the group to be able to have anything to type.

For years, this particular person has come to me when they needed something, and every time I have dropped what I was doing to offer help. And, yet, if I needed their help, in return, they were reluctant to acknowledge me, and in most cases refused to help. The issue that arose in this argument was not the fact that they refused to share their work with me. That's never been a problem for me--I can whip out a five page paper within a couple of hours and a few cups of coffee. I haven't maintained a 3.89 GPA in college by expecting others to do my work.

The true issue is the way that I was treated. That I have been treated upon multiple occasions. Whenever somebody is willing to go out of their way to help you, you should offer them the same courtesy. Whenever somebody is willing to devote more time to you than you are willing to devote to them, then you should correct that. You never know when you'll need that web of support backing you one day, but because of the way you've treated them they'll be gone.

I truly have no hard feelings over my argument today--and even apologized. Their current status will inform you that they have not forgiven me, and probably won't for a while. And that's okay--I will chose to be the bigger person in this situation. I apologized for a situation that escalated quickly, got out of hand fast, and could have been avoided with a little bit of courtesy from both parties.

This being said, I urge you all to try harder to make time for anybody that needs your help, or to show appreciation to those who have helped you relentlessly in the past. One day, you will lose that help, otherwise, and then you'll grow to see what you truly had.