Recently... (ugh I said that to start of my post again......) I have been re-reading, for the 3rd time, Dark Dude by Oscar Hijuelos. I have the advanced reading copy so I'm not sure if it's the same, but I like it anyways. Let me start by defining this term.

"Dark Dude" - n. I. What a male of light skin is derisively called by persons of color. (colloquial, Harlem 1965-1970). 2. A person considered suspect because of his light complexion, especially in criminal circumstances. 3. Someone who is not considered "streetwise". 4. A white person considered not to be "hip". Cf. "Straight." "Uncool." 5. An outsider, particularly in the context of ghetto society.

That's the exact definition from the book. So, basically, it's about a boy from a Cuban family who is, somehow, completely white.

What I like about this book, is that it really seems real. It makes me wonder... If Oscar Hijuelos lived like this? On the back of the book, a quote by him (which, honestly, I think is a little braggy?) is "This is the book I wish I'd read when I was a teen." So then, I looked him up. Oscar Cuban parents... hmmmm *hint hint*...

After seeing a photo of the author (he's white), I can conclude this is based off his life, or that a part of it (which reminds me of Go Ask Alice) is what he made up, sort of a rant on imagination.

Speaking of rant on imagination, that's sometimes what I will do. This ALLLSOOOOO brings me to a practice test I took over spring vacation. Roald Dahl said, in an excerpt on the test, that many of his idea come from dreams. Oooh mysssticaaalll... I don't know why, sometimes I'll just think of something like that. It's how my brain works... Ahem... Anyywayyy...

I've always enjoyed writing, but I really don't like my work. I try and try to be witty and all, but my aura isn't exactly comical. So I have a problem with that. I read my work and I'm like "... Oh CRAP. THIS IS CRAP." Anyway. That's my rant. On imagination. No, not really, but I should have one, shouldn't I? What do y'all like to write about? Is your brain strangely wired so you think one thing and it connects to a memory that has little or no relevance? Hmmmm...?

Lord Of The Flies -One of my lovely spoilers... And lame Titles...-

For about 5 or so days now, I've been reading William Golding's Lord of the Flies. However, or at least, so far in my findings, this book has nothing to do with flies. Perhaps everyone dies and rots and the island the boys landed on becomes infested with maggots, or maybe, because of the cover on the version I have (which has a rather "fat" boy on it) Piggy becomes ruler and everyone dies... or something amazing. (I can infer that because Piggy's glasses break and the spectacles on the cover are cracked as well.)

When I read books, I like to visualize things. If you know me, you probably know I am a very visual person and like to doodle quite a bit too much. However, it annoys me when in movies of the books, I see them and the setting and characters are completely different than what my brilliant imagination created. Anyway, how I imagine the tropical island in Lord Of The Flies is like an island in the Caribbean - Beautiful clear, blue waters and skies, tall green palm trees with coconuts and pineapple, and lovely bright flowers dancing upon the sand.

Thinking of these kinds of places make me have a craving to paint, even though I'm not that good (this is why I must learn InDesign and Photoshop). I think the one downfall to having a great imagination is not being able to share your thoughts.