"The Perks Of Being A Wallflower"

Today I am Charlie.

A long time ago I read that people often absorb the personalities of main characters from books they're reading, and the effect can last for a while after they've finished the book.

I read the rest of The Perks of Being a Wallflower today. I've felt like the narrator and protagonist, Charlie, ever since I began reading this morning. He's a great character; really well-written. I identify with him a lot, I too am a wallflower and fairly observant.

I felt awkward much of the day, and rather depressed. It helped to go on a walk after I finished the book. I was getting pretty down when I read the first half of the book a couple weeks ago, so today I thought I'd try getting some exercise and a change of scenery after finishing.

I definitely take on the personalities and moods of characters I'm reading about, especially when written in the first person. Today I was Charlie. Everything worked out okay, though. I managed to converse with people my age and not totally freeze up or speak in gibberish. I felt like a part of a group for once, if only for a little while. That struck me as something rather alike to Charlie as well, and the group I was with vaguely reminded me of Charlie's friends Patrick and Sam.

Absorbing the personalities of books characters can be problematic occasionally, prompting moods that are less than ideal. Today I was acutely conscious of this phenomenon, so I got to observe it carefully and not get pulled too deeply into isolation, or the sadness permeating The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

Today I was Amoniel being Charlie; the world was both poignantly fresh and nothing new to look at, just a little bit like walking in someone else's shoes, only they fit your feet perfectly and aren't altogether a style unsuitable to you.

Reflection

I have never ridden a school bus.

Actually, I have a couple of times. But in the entirety of my homeschooled life, I've never ridden a school bus to public school. I realized today that this is something completely routine for most people, taking up a great percentage of their lives from age seven to sixteen, possibly eighteen. But for me, it's been a once or twice in a lifetime event.

The couple of times I rode a school bus were with my dad and his alternative high school class on field trips. I remember going to a museum, then to a beauty school once. We had lunch in a parking lot next to a gas station. A couple of kids taught me how to make a whistle out of a piece of grass and my thumbs pressed together. We rode the long way home through muted landscape, hills and scrub the roadside scenery.
I really only remember bits and pieces of the trip, I was maybe nine or ten, and my memory's never been the clearest in some respects. I tend to remember snapshots; tall windows; mannequins with wigs; stormy skies; and sitting on green grass, searching for wide blades to practice with. And through it all, my father as this great, tall figure of strength and poise, speaking in his knowing way and kindness shining through his every gesture. 

More from the Utaha hippie girl

I catch myself worrying about other people's judgment of me occasionally, nothing new in the human race.


I don't shave my legs, love, personal choice.  I'm pretty sure our relief society visiting teachers glanced down at my unevenly shaggy legs a couple times last Wednesday. I honestly didn't care. It might, truthfully, be an effect of their affiliation and purpose, but whatever.

The opinions of people I care about, am close to, or want to impress are a bit more important to me, however, and they still very much influence my actions and thoughts.

The thing is, I've found that judgements most often exist only in my head, not even in the head of the person I'm so afraid is judging me harshly. 

Introspective Observation: buds on dead growth

It is strange to know that we're having fifty, almost sixty degree days in February. This month started out new-born in a blanket of white, but yesterday we played kickball with some friends at the old stone church, and I didn't need an actual coat until about 9:30 or 10:00 at night. I've heard tell that the cherry blossoms are blooming in Japan, and my dad's cousin's wife's flowers are already coming up in her yard up North. 

We've been about two months ahead of ourselves all year, in previous years too. Remember that June we had multiple wild fires all over my state? Utaha two months ahead and all that. Photographs of haunting sunsets and towering columns of grey smoke, white clouds of smoke boiling over our Eastern mountains. That Summer felt ominous and apocalyptic. But here we are now, roughly two years later, experiencing an early spring that feels like late fall in the winter. It's certainly something to think about, dear. 

The changes this world is going through --ecologically, politically and socially-- should be interesting to observe, and perhaps, to participate in. There's a lot of hope and beauty amongst the pain and corruption, growing in spite of or because of the things that seem so terribly wrong. 

December Does Funny Things To My Thinking

Weird how long the days are, and yet the weeks and year are flying by...