A week with two lovely ladies

I picked up my daughters after I got off work tonight. They will be staying with me for a week. I am very excited. We're going to do an overnight camping trip this weekend, but other than that, we have no big plans. I just look forward to hanging out with them and enjoying their company.

Truth vs. Fact

I wrote "Promise" a few months ago. After I shared it with my mom, we ended up having a long talk about it. She admitted that part of it made her upset. She felt that I was misrepresenting her and not being completely honest. The section in question is when I talk about getting "kicked out" when I was 17. In her view that is not how it happened. She saw it as giving me a choice. I made the choice to leave so I was not actually "kicked out."

This led to a good discussion about how people can perceive the same situation differently, or truth versus fact. Whatever the facts of the situation were, the truth is that I felt like my mom was kicking me out of the house. That was a big part of the reason such a rift developed between my mom and I. We have since healed that and I couldn't ask for a better relationship with my mother. We are very close now.

Anyway, the sometimes clashing ideas of truth and fact can be tricky to navigate. Sometimes, in the tricky world of human interaction, facts aren't as important as truth. Sometimes we have to ignore the facts of the situation and get to the truth, the feelings, the emotions before we can overcome a problem and find peace.

A hectic week

I've been wanting to get on and post lately, but it has been very hectic around my house lately. I'm sure that makes it seem strange then that I have started another blog. This one is not just for me, though. My good friend, Jeromy, had a good suggestion in his reply to "Family's Important, But...II, Me" and I have decided to implement it.

The Noble Castle is a shared blog with my mother and siblings (well, as long as they accept the invitation, anyway). It will be a place for us to share our thoughts and feelings with each other and hopefully become closer. I think it is a shame that we have drifted apart as we have and I want to fix that.

I would like to have my father participate, as well. Unfortunately, he really doesn't want much to do with computers. He is also not good when it comes to emotion. He is very weak when it comes to tough emotional situations and finds it easier to avoid them. It's too bad, because two of my sisters, especially, could really benefit from a serious conversation with him. I don't know if it will ever happen.

Anyway, I look forward to the possibilities found in The Noble Castle.

UPDATE: I fixed the link to the new blog.

Happiness

The Onion has a great article on happiness. It's one of those that almost turns out more sad than funny as you realize how true it is for so many people.

An exciting year for music

I all ready mentioned Nightwish is going to release their new CD later this year. There are some other CDs I am anxiously awaiting.

Metallica is currently in the studio working on an album. They have ditched Bob Rock who has produced all of their albums since the Black Album in 1991. While I am not as critical of this period as some fans, I am excited about a new producer and the hope that the new album will more closely resemble their first four.

Coldplay is also working on new music. Chris Martin has said that this one will be darker than previous efforts and will feature the piano less. I love their first three albums and the fact that they all sound unique; they haven't rested on their laurels and repeated the same sound over and over. I bet this one will be just as good as the others.

Night Castle, the long-delayed album by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra is supposed to be out...*crosses fingers*...this year. This will be their second non-Christmas effort. Their first, Beethoven's Last Night, has become one of my favorite albums of all time. Some criticize the over-the-top bombast of their music, but I love it. The passion in their music is evident.

Flogging Molly has been playing new tracks at their live shows. They have said that they will be in the studio this summer recording their next album, but haven't said when they will release it. Another CD I can't wait to purchase. You can't go wrong with Celtic punk rock.

I think there are one or two others I'm forgetting at the moment, but that's a good list. This is a good year for music.

Family's important, but... II, Me

Well, if I'm going to talk about my family and try to deconstruct us, I believe it is only fair to begin with me. To that end I am posting a personal essay I wrote for a college class a few months ago. Warning: It is long.

“Promise”

Growing up, I was somewhat of a prodigy. Talking at six months, walking at nine months, reading at three; there was little I didn’t do early. My father likes to tell the story of informing my kindergarten teacher on my first day of school that I was reading at a sixth-grade level and that I was far advanced for my age academically. Obviously, she was skeptical if not outright disbelieving. Parents are always bragging about how smart or talented or beautiful their child is; that’s their job. After that first day, though, and as the school year went on, she admitted to my father that he was right. Unfortunately, being intelligent doesn’t mean you can’t make mistakes and that isn’t always the easiest lesson to learn.

My first few years in school were unremarkable. I fit in, had friends, and was as normal as any other kid. Things began to change by the time I got to third-grade. My family had moved several times in the previous two years and I started having trouble adjusting. I was becoming very conscious of the fact that I didn’t fit in with most of my peers. I thought differently and had different interests. I was also becoming very awkward socially. My friends could be counted on one hand…with one finger. This was also about the time the teasing and the mocking started as well as the many attempts to inflict bodily injury upon me. I got pushed around and knocked down a few times throughout school, but I was able to avoid anything more serious, not for a lack of trying by many kids, but because I was blessed with fast legs. I put them to good use running away from many bullies.

As school went on, I continued to excel; it was never a struggle. Learning was easy, especially since it was so rare for me to be given a chance to push myself. Our education system is designed for the people in the middle. Those on either end of the spectrum are left to fend for themselves. Some teachers tried, though. In fifth grade, I was allowed to skip ahead to the sixth grade math book. Even that was a joke, though. I had all ready done algebra, trigonometry, and some calculus at home. The best part was that the following year, I had to go through the same math book all over again. When I got to high school, I met with the administrators and came up with a plan to graduate a year early. If it had been allowed, I could have graduated two or three years earlier.

Besides being able to run quickly, my intelligence was my best defense mechanism. It became my shield. I could always count on being smarter than all of my classmates. I took great pleasure in always having the right answer. Seeing the confused look on someone’s face when I used words that they did not understand or the angry look when I proved them wrong on some point was my guilty pleasure. Making other kids feel stupid did nothing to endear me to them, but I didn’t care because it wasn’t as if they were clamoring to be my friend anyway.

The only problem with putting on armor is that there is always a chink. By constantly reminding my peers that I was smarter I set myself up in the position of not being able to make mistakes. Anytime I was wrong about something, the all ready relentless taunting reached new heights. I worked hard to be perfect, to make no mistakes. If I had any doubts about an answer, I wouldn’t say anything. This led to me becoming more withdrawn as I became petrified that I would say the wrong thing. Doing that and looking stupid became my greatest fear. If I looked stupid, my armor would crumble away leaving me exposed for who I really was, a scared boy desperate to be accepted.

While I enjoyed learning about any subject, science and math were my passion in those days, especially anything related to space. I read voraciously about NASA, the ’69 moon landing, and the solar system. Combined with my love of science fiction – Star Trek, Star Wars, Isaac Asimov, and more – I dreamed of traveling amongst the stars. I wanted to work for NASA’s space program. As I grew older, I even dreamed of starting my own private company and building the first faster-than-light ship.

My parents, my teachers, and most everyone who talked to me for more than a few minutes knew that I was destined for great things. I was going to cure cancer. I was going to solve world hunger. I was going to be the first man on Mars. I was going to change the world.

Things changed when I became a teenager. For a number of reasons, I became very angry. My parents divorced when I was twelve. I had four younger siblings and my mother was handicapped, unable to work. My father did not move far physically. He was in the same town, but he was not there for us like a father should be. I was now the man of the house and I had all manner of responsibilities thrust on me. I started working, doing paper routes and odd jobs around the neighborhood. As soon as I was fourteen, I got my driver’s license. Then I was taking my mother around town to run errands and my siblings to their extracurricular activities. That same year, I got my first “real” job working at a Taco Bell. The stress of it all put a strain on my relationship with my mother and soon we were arguing regularly.

Years of being an outcast and having few friends had also begun to take a toll on me. While I was younger, it had bothered me, but I kept it all buried. Now, combined with the normal stresses of being a teenager struggling to find an identity and feeling the weight of my family on my back, it all started to come out. I became increasingly angry and isolated. I quit baseball, track and the other extracurricular activities I was involved in. I was bitter and sarcastic. My grades started to drop as I cared less and less about school or anything else for that matter. I was all set to go to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology when I graduated, but my falling grades weren’t good enough anymore and I lost my chance.

The final straw came shortly after my seventeenth birthday. My mother had always pushed me to be more social and to go out on dates. I certainly wanted to date, but I was far too shy to ask a girl out. A girl I met at work took that step and asked me out. Perhaps predictably, I fell madly in love with her. Not only was she my first girlfriend, but she was the only person who “understood” me as I struggled emotionally. My mother did not approve of her, however, and that made me furious. She had long pushed me to date and, now that I was, she told me she did not like or approve of her. It was another in a list of reasons for us to argue. A month after my birthday, during one particularly vicious argument, my mother kicked me out of the house. I packed up my things and left. I moved in with my girlfriend; she was two years older than me, all ready graduated and living on her own.

My life came fully derailed then. Within a month my girlfriend was pregnant. A few years later we had had a second child and were married. It was disastrous. I knew that I had screwed up, that she was not the girl I wanted to spend my life with. My stubbornness was too deep to admit I had made a mistake, though, and I tried to stick it out. I made a half-hearted attempt to go to college, but quickly dropped out. I wasn’t ready for it mentally. I was still angry, although, it was more for the situation I found myself in than for any of the old reasons. After a few more years, I had had enough. We separated and divorced. I had been too young and wasn’t really in love, or maybe I had been, but it was simply the fleeting love of youth and not a mature, lasting love. With a lot of debt stemming from the divorce and my own poor financial decisions, I was not in a position to go back to school. I worked and existed, nothing more. I drifted through life wondering what had happened. I was a golden child. I was brilliant. It haunted me that I could be so smart and so lost.

One of the things I hated most after high school was running into people I had known back then. There was always awkward questions like, “Weren’t you supposed to go to M.I.T?” or statements like, “I thought you were going to work for NASA.” It was very uncomfortable and I always felt embarrassed. The chink in my armor was being exposed. I went out of my way to avoid most people that I had known except for one close friend. People that didn’t know me and found out I had two daughters would give me, “You look way too young to have kids. How old are you?” I hated seeing the look on their faces when I’d tell them and they would do the math. I felt like a failure, like a loser, and most of all, I felt stupid. I often wondered if I could ever get my life back on track.

In those years, I did a lot of thinking and reflecting. Never having many friends and not being one to talk much, I was used to having conversations with myself. I had never truly faced myself, though. Slowly these conversations became focused on why my life was the way it was. What had happened to put me in this position? Why was I not happy? What could I do about it? I became brutally honest with myself. I stripped myself bare and really took shape of who I was. Facing myself is the hardest thing I have ever done and I think something that few people truly do. I came to accept that I was in control of my life and I had no one to blame but myself for where I was. I learned that I was the only person responsible for my happiness. I decided that I did not want to be bitter and angry for the rest of my life. I came to accept myself for who I was, good and bad, and I worked on becoming a better person, a better human being. I forgave my father for not being there when I needed him, my mother for kicking me out of her house, and all of the kids who had tormented me throughout school. Most of all, I forgave myself for all of the mistakes I had made. I came to accept that I was just as human as everyone else, that I was going to make mistakes no matter how smart I was, and that my armor was actually a burden weighing me down. I took it off and vowed to not let my life get back off track again.

I also learned that my interests had changed. I was no longer as interested in science as I once was. It still appealed to me and I still kept up on current advances and read books about it for pleasure, but, as a career, it had lost its luster. My own painfully honest self-reflection not only gave me greater insight to myself, but gave me a great curiosity and passion for people. Who are we? Why are we here? Where have we been? Why do we do the things we do? What can I do to help other people? It sounded so corny even in my head, but I found that I had a burning desire to help people.

I had always been interested in history, but now it grew to the point that I knew I wanted to get a degree in it. Religious history, in particular, appealed to me. Every society on our planet throughout history has developed some sort of religion that has tried to answer the big questions. Why are we here? What is our purpose? My parents had taken me to church when I was young, but I was never very devout. I developed very strong convictions, but never felt organized religion was right for me. My beliefs were personal; I considered myself spiritual, but not religious. But there was something about religion and what people and societies did in its name that really piqued my interest. I felt driven to learn more about it to the point of making it my major.

After a few years of working, paying down some of my debts, and growing up, I became serious about going back to school. The traditional classroom environment held little appeal to me. Squeezing in time to go to school while working full time, seeing my daughters every week, and helping my mother with various tasks was not going to work. I began looking at online alternatives. A friend of mine had taken some classes on the Internet and recommended a school. I looked into it and liked what I saw. In August of 2006, ten years after I had graduated high school, I reentered college determined that nothing would stop me from getting my degree and pursuing my dreams. I thought the biggest hurdle had been cleared. I was wrong.

A few months later, something happened that could have again derailed my life. For a few months I had been having strange symptoms. My right hand started going numb. It would only last for a few seconds, but while it happened I could not control my hand. Soon, my right arm and leg would go numb. Again, it only lasted for a few seconds, but it would reoccur throughout the day. I had difficulty walking, even falling a few times, or using my hand when it happened. I knew that it was something serious, something neurological, but I didn’t want to go to the doctor. I tried to ignore it, hoping that it would just go away. Unfortunately, or perhaps thankfully, my mother saw me stumble a few times and asked me what was wrong. I dissembled at first, but finally told her. She pestered me to see a doctor and eventually I relented.

The doctor ordered a battery of tests including an MRI. When I went back for the results, he told me that the scan of my brain showed images consistent with multiple sclerosis. It did not come as a total shock because I knew when I first started going numb that something was wrong and it could be very serious. I could have become depressed. I could have cried and asked, “Why me?” I could have let it ruin my life, but I didn’t. My search for myself and my personal growth over the past few years had given me a rock-solid core of confidence in myself. I was happy with who I was and where my life was going. I knew that there was no obstacle I could not overcome. A debilitating disease was not about to get the best of me.

For all of the things I learned in the past few years, perhaps the most important is the value of mistakes. Making mistakes isn’t just okay; it is necessary. Learning does not come from perfection. Learning comes from screwing up and figuring out what happened. My myriad number of blunders have taught me many things, and I would not be as strong and capable as I am now if I had not gone through them as painful and as horrible as they were at the time. Even my biggest mistake, running off with my girlfriend, cannot really be called a mistake. That strange union produced two wonderful girls and how can anyone consider their children a mistake?

I’m twenty-eight now. I have the two smartest, most beautiful daughters in the world (parent’s job, remember?). I am happy, but serene; confident, but self-effacing; and at peace, but burning with desire. Finally, I know what I want with my life. It goes back to those innocent days of youth. I intend to fulfill the promise of those early days when everyone expected me to grow up and do great things. I am arrogant enough to think that I can change the world and smart enough to know that I can. I’m not sure exactly what I will do or how, but I will.

The Onion

If you don't read it, you should. They have some of the most talented writers of satire I have ever come across. Here's a recent editorial that had me in stitches (warning, it contains "foul" language, so if that offends you, don't click the link). The best part about the humor is that, as funny as it is, it is often insightful social commentary. I have a link to the site on the right side of my page. I don't think you'll regret a trip there.

Comments welcome

I've had a few comments here on the blog, but I would like to see more. In my mind, this blog (or any other, really) is not just an outlet for my thoughts, but a chance to enter into a dialog with the people reading it. So, please leave your comments and check back because I may very well respond to them.

Early morning musings on pain

It's about 1:45 in the morning. I'm sitting in a parking garage at work babysitting stuff for a garage sale tomorrow. Security isn't my regular job anymore, but I still pick up the occasional relief shift because I need the money and it can be fun.

Speaking of fun, I got tased last weekend. I picked up a couple of shifts and since our department carries tasers now, I wanted to be certified to carry. So, I rode the lightning. It was certainly the longest, most painful five seconds of my life. It felt like a ton of bricks slammed into me. I swear, if someone points a taser at me now, I'm putting my hands up and cooperating. It was amazing how quickly the pain passed, though. For a second or two after the taser finished its cycle, I still felt it, but then it was gone. I jumped up and was good to go. Now I get to carry one and share the love if someone doesn't want to play nice with others.

Nightwish

Since I first discovered the Finnish symphonic metal band Nightwish last year, they have become one of my favorite bands. Their blend of heavy metal and orchestral elements makes for an incredibly rich sound and the lyrics are poetic and personal. I sound like I should be writing ad-copy for them or something. Anyway, they are awesome.

The first single, Eva, from their new album was just released a week ago. They've got a new lead singer since firing the previous one for becoming a diva too focused on herself. I was nervous that whoever it was would not capture the spirit or passion that Tarja had. I worry no more. Annette Olzon, the new lead singer, has a beautiful voice and fit perfectly into the band (at least for this song). I have faith that their upcoming album will be just as awe-inspiring as the rest.

Is it September, yet?

Nose to the grindstone

I forgot I had another class, Introduction to the Bible, starting this week until I got an email today reminding me about it. I just reviewed the syllabus and it is going to keep me very busy. It's only eight weeks and I have to write three 2-3 page papers and two 8-10 page papers. The only test is the final exam and consists of short essays. Of course, I also have my research writing class and anthropology class going on at the moment.

Free time. Who needs it?

Family's important, but...

My sister, Shawna, uttered that phrase sometime back. I don't remember the context, but it wasn't said in complete jest. It was comical to me at the time for the sitcom-like absurdity of it, but the more I've thought about it, the sadder the phrase has become and the more it has seemed to embody the relationships among my siblings.

I have four siblings, three sisters - Sharie, Sheena, and Shawna - and one brother - Shawn. Growing up we were close, not extremely so, but we got along. As we became teenagers, though, we began drifting apart. We became caught up in our own problems, our own lives. I was/am just as guilty as the rest. None of us, myself included, call each other or make an effort to see each other near as much as we should. We get birthday gifts for each other more because it is expected than because we get excited and care about giving gifts to each other. I would say that most of us have no idea of what is going on in each other's lives past the surface level of where we are working and who we are dating. I don't think we know how each other really feels or what each other's hopes and dreams are. I also think that my siblings are very unhappy and desperately trying to fix it, but unsure how.

It's sad. I want to fix it, but I'm not sure how or if I can. Future posts will go more indepth on my siblings and our relationships and what I think the problems are that need to be overcome before we can become a closer family.

Teen sex

Well, that title should bring traffic to this place.

Slate has an interesting article about evangelical teens and their sexual habits. None of the findings come as a surprise to me. I think the more we make a big deal out of sex, whether it's "You're burning in hell if you try it before marriage!" or "It's the greatest thing in the world, so get out there and start doing it!" we are going to face teens participating in it. What teen trying to build their own identity isn't going to be tempted by something that is given an aura of mystique. It's also one reason kids drink and do drugs.

I think the best way to deal with this is to have frank discussions about the issue, be it sex, drugs, or whatever. It can't be a talk that starts with, "God only wants you to have sex after your married, so don't even think about it," or "Drugs are bad for you, so don't do it." Parents need to be honest. They need to explain exactly what sex is. They need to explain what is great about it (yes, I believe Mommy and Daddy should be telling their kids that sex feels good) as well as the possible consequences of sex (diseases, emotional issues, babies).

Is this a magic solution that will make problems go away? Of course not. I am willing to bet, however, that frank talk and honesty between parent and child will go a long way toward helping these issues. And, really, is it going to hurt?

Getting personal

I know. I know. I said I'd post more often. I'm working on it. Promise.

One of things that I've been thinking about since I started this blog is how personal I will be. What will I share? What will I hold back? And not, just as it pertains to me, but to others around me. Will friend or family members be upset if post something about them that they don't like? Will it harm the relationship? Help it grow?

I'm not sure I know the answers, but I do know something. I am going to attempt to be as open about myself as possible. I feel like we put up too many personal barriers in our society and that those barriers are ultimately harmful to meaningful relationships and personal growth.

I'm also probably going to post things about people in my life that they won't like. In no way do I intend it to be malicious. It will be honest appraisal of things as I see them. As I have grown and matured, I believe I have learned a lot about people and why they do the things they do. I want to bring down some of the barriers between myself and my loved ones. If that means, they end up hearing (er, reading) something that makes them angry, so be it. I want to cut through the bullshit and develop a meaningful relationship, rather than a half-hearted one based on facades.

So, to those who do know me and worry that you may be named in one of my posts, take a deep breath, and really try to understand what I am trying to say. For those of you who don't, I hope that something I say here on this blog gives you something to think about.

Even if it's that I have no clue what I'm talking about.

Speaking of procrastination...

I have a three to five page paper due in my anthropology class today. I should probably get started on it.

Recommended reading

I discovered Andrew Sullivan's blog last year while reading some stuff on Time's website. I soon became an addict. His well-reasoned, but impassioned, thoughts on a wide variety of topics make for interesting reading and help me clarify my own thoughts on many matters. He has a PhD in political science, is a Catholic, and is gay so many of his posts are about these three topics, individually and their intersection. Anyway, check it out. He was hosted by Time, but has recently moved to The Atlantic.

Here's a link to a recent post of his on torture, torture authorized by the Bush administration and used by Islamofascists.

Don't put off 'til tomorrow...

So, it's been nine days since my last post. It's certainly not as if I've had nothing to say. Talking may not be my style, but I do enjoy writing. Part of the delay is just trying to settle into a new habit. My goal right now is to post at least three times a week. As I get more settled, I would like to post daily. Procrastination is my biggest enemy here. Yes, I am busy, but not so much that I can't take time to post about something. I've always been a procrastinator, though I'm better than I used to be. Maybe this blog will help me improve more.

Anyway, I'll try...no, I will...post more often.

Mind games

When I was diagnosed with MS last fall, it wasn't a complete shock. With the strange symptoms I had been having for a few months, I knew something serious was going on. I knew it was a neurological problem of some sort. I've also had a feeling ever since I was young that something like this could happen to me, some debilitating disease or a serious accident that left me physically impaired in some way. Perhaps I'm crazy, but it's something that's hovered in the back of my mind for as long as I can remember. So, while it was still arresting to hear my doctor say that I had multiple sclerosis, it was not completely unexpected.

Life has changed, although not drastically. I am on two different medications as part of an MS study I am participating in (free drugs!). Both are injections I have to give myself, one daily and one weekly. I've never had a problem with needles, and though there are things I would rather do than stick myself with needles, I don't mind that much. I get dizzy a lot more easily than I ever used to which has led to some amusing situations, but nothing serious. Cold temperatures affect me more than they ever did. If it's less than 65 degrees, I'm feeling chilly. My mom is greatly amused by this, because she's always cold and I teased her about it a lot. Now she gives me grief about it. Fatigue has become a near constant companion, as well. If I didn't take pills for that, I'd be drifting through life in a barely conscious stupor.

None of these things have really been that big a deal for me. There's nothing I can do about having this disease, so I haven't been upset. I've just smiled and dealt with it. Alas, there is a side-effect that has had more of an impact on me. Depression. It's not depression brought on because I'm feeling sorry for myself. People with MS have a higher rate of depression than people with other debilitating diseases. Scientists have not found a reason, but conjecture that the disease itself has some sort of effect on the brain's emotional centers.

It's very frustrating to wake up feeling down in the dumps or to be sitting on my desk and suddenly realize out of the blue, for no reason, that I feel very sad. I have really worked hard to become a happy well-adjusted person in the last few years and now this hits me. I never get so bad that I contemplate suicide or anything like that, but I get in a funk where I don't feel like doing anything and I can get irritable. I know I could try anti-depressants, but I don't know if I can. I know it's not logical, but I would almost feel more depressed having to use anti-depressants. I have always taken pride in my mental faculties and I want to be able to deal with this "on my own." I know that the MS is doing this and it's ridiculous to think that I should be able to just deal with it, but that's how I feel...

...that and depressed.

Only the Good Die Young

October 22, 2006 is a day I'll never forget. I was at work, babysitting a drunk, when I got a call that one of my best friends, Patrick Kramer, had just been killed in a car accident. The moments immediately after that are hard to describe. I felt stark disbelief even though I knew it was true. Weakness gripped my legs and I struggled to stay standing. I felt worse than I ever had in my life. His is the first death of someone I was very close to that I have had to deal with. It's strange how death is something so normal, so part of the human experience, but that we are never ready, never prepared for it when it happens to a loved one.

Patrick was a cop in a small town a few hours from Billings. He was responding to an accident on the highway when he lost control of his vehicle and rolled it. He died on the spot almost instantly. He died as he lived, helping other people. Nothing gave him greater pleasure and even when it wasn't in his best interest, he did what he could for someone else. Patrick was a hero in the truest sense of the word.

His birthday was last Sunday. He would have been 30. I think about him all of the time, but he's been on my mind more often lately. I miss him terribly. My only consolation is that I know he is an a better place now. Patrick was dealing with a lot of personal issues and was in a lot of emotional turmoil for the last few years of his life. I'm glad he no longer has that burden, that pain.

Patrick, I wish you were here. I know it's a selfish thought. I know you're happier now, probably laughing at the antics of those of us still here. I still wish you were here.

Rest in peace, friend. I'll see you again someday.

Recent reading - The Prestige

I finished reading The Prestige earlier this week. I love the movie and have been wanting to read the book for awhile now. Obviously there was differences between the two, small small, others bigger. I found the book to be excellent, as well, but I'm not sure which I would say is better. I need more time to digest the book, perhaps even reading it again before I can make a more concrete judgement of it.

I almost wish I could have read the book before I saw the movie to see if I would have been able to pick up on the secret(s) before they were revealed. Ah, well. It was still an excellent read and I would say that the movie is an excellent adaptation keeping the spirit of the book if not the details.

Check them both out.