1. it's badly written
2. the premise is very unoriginal
3. it's creepy
4. it's weak, very weak
5. the characters are boring
6. it's a bit sexist
7. it makes no sense
8. it's only selling point is the high sexual tension, which I find inappropriate for young adults
9. sexual tension doesn't carry anything or anyone that far
10. I, however, dig sexual tension.
11. I forgot the awesome critique I had running in my head. Of course.
I know what happens in the last book, about the dirty sex and stuff, so I don't need to read the whole series. I feel like I have to because I started it, but I don't know if I'm capable of that level of self-torture. Maybe I can fangirl myself up enough to do it.
I was lucky enough to get stuck reading the book when I am off one of my meds, which is making me highly emotional and FUCKING crazy, so the whole book was an emotional roller coaster for me, as was my nightmare about skin cancer and playing with my cat yesterday. I feel like I'm pregnant minus the fetus.
Speaking of fetuses---I may resort to physical violence with the next pro-life moron who tries to argue my position on abortion, which is obviously pro-choice with a twist, a good one. It's too bad for me. That's the worst part. I suffer because I'm not a moron. Ugh. I must move, but I hear Kiwis hate Americans. Also morons.
I got more makeup. What's new?
I got new sunglasses. They are huge and too big for my face, but I love them. They are shiny! My favorites broke, so I had to buy new ones, and I needed roundness because I can't see out of the square ones when I'm driving.
In other news, I have new shoes! and new shirts! and new jeans! and g-d only knows what other new things I have. Movies! I now own Juno AND Dirty, Pretty Things. Solid.
Everything is so boring. I have a hoodie and more makeup on the way. I sent presents to friends. I think that's all I've got going on. Things, money being spent.
I saw Raising Arizona the other day. I laughed a little bit. I drove. I didn't kill me or my friend. That was good.
I love yellow. I want to paint my bedroom and yellow and put yellow sheets on the bed with a yellow comforter and yellow wall-to-wall carpeting and paint my Mac yellow and my printer and dye my hair yellow and all my clothes and just wallow in yellow all day long, for all days. Tomorrow I think I'm going to have to buy some tacky, yellow nail polish. I already have plenty of yellow clothing items. No yellow shoes. I don't think...Fuck if I know.
The weather needs to heat up. I'm so tired of wearing clothes all the time.
I bought a new swimsuit. It makes me look boob-less. I love it. I love anything that minimizes my boobs. And it's green! and beautiful! and I love it!
Mi hermano wants a puppy.
Speaking of Spanish, my Spanish is coming along well enough-ish. I should be able to go to Spain and at least buy one item only speaking Spanish. My friend says my accent is cute. I hope that's good...
In other news, I am realizing more and more that these expensive medications are doing very little to help me. Minimal. I'm still incredibly, uncomfortably awkward in social situations. I still avoid things because they make me anxious. I still feel suicidal once in a while. I still can't function. I still don't want to go to school because all of those people make me crazy. I am still crazy. So I take all these medications for nothing. Or for minimal help. It seems so useless and so helpless and so wasteful. I hate it. I want a better brain, one that has its chemicals in order.