This is one of the best books that I've read in a long time. Honestly, I bought it because it had a very encouraging blurb from Neil Gaiman on the cover, and Mr. Gaiman is one of my heroes. The characters were captivating and honest and I would totally chill with most of them. The villains were awful. The prose was clean and smart and funny. The story was great-scary, wonderful, hopeful. And also, it was just cool. That's not always a good thing, but in this case it definitely is.
So I couldn't decide whether this blog should become about siblings (because of the title) or about government (because of the title also...and the plot). I've gone with siblings for the moment. I know, weak. But close to my heart.
I happen to have come from the womb of someone who, while being awesome herself in many ways, also managed to create nothing but awesome offspring. I love all of my brothers and sisters, of course (five of them, I'm the eldest) but I also sincerely like them. While we all have certain things in common-such as being astoundingly intelligent, hilarious, attractive, and generally fantastic, we are also different and differing. We have fights about politics, which most of them, besides Charles, kind of get upset about, because of the fighting part, but I fucking heart. We mostly have silly and ridiculous good times.
The best thing though, is the shared experiences. Especially if you grow up in a way that is not exactly depicted on even the most amusing and off-kilter of tv shows and movies, that can be a huge deal. I caught my kids reminiscing the other day, in the back of the car. 'Phoenix, remember when we used to have picnics with Ong on the fifth floor but we would just buy a soda and a lollipop?' Yeah, it's a small thing, but it's kind of not. Having someone to validate your experiences is so important and because most of us tend to go all over the place now, and lose touch with most of the people who were important to us growing up, that validation isn't really there anymore.
Unless, of course, you have siblings that you like enough to actually talk to on a regular basis.
This is not meant to denigrate only children. Unlike the stereotypes, most only children I know are actually quite outgoing, friendly, and polite. A bit spoiled, yes, but that's not ALWAYS a bad thing. It kind of depends on how it's done. And being spoiled sometimes feels great.
I am a social weirdo. Not just the normal sort of social weirdo that you see a lot if in the internet age. No, no. I'm too unique and magical for that. According to my parents, I came out of the womb unfriendly, unsnuggly, and with a near-psychic intuition about people-which is actually a terrible thing to have. I've learned to ignore my intuition most of the time. Very few people want to murder me and eat my bunghole, so that's perfectly safe. And it makes it easier to get along in the world. A world that is filled with a whole fucking lot of mean, small minded people who still don't entirely suck.
I love meeting new people. That's not a problem for me. They probably don't enjoy meeting me too much. My rant against brutal honesty? A little hypocritical coming from me. I am unnecessarily honest, but rarely brutal. Unless I feel it's warranted. For example, when I am out with my sisters, who are insanely beautiful, I get this horrible bitchy vibe from almost every other girl. I used to get it myself when I wasn't a manatee, although not nearly as much. And it didn't really bother me. When the bitchiness is directed towards my sisters, it's a different story. So while they are feeling the same vibe, clearly, they just react by continuing to be super fucking sexy, and maybe flashing a well placed Look here and there. I react by loudly announcing that whoreface in the fishnets has fat thighs and crack whore lips and then laughing hysterically.
Apparently, that's not the cool thing to do. Sometimes I am not even aware that I'm being inappropriate. This is when I'm sober. After I've had a few drinks-mind you, I don't get mean, just more talky and less inhibited-I am even less likely to realise what is socially acceptable and what isn't. Worse, I don't really care.
Still, I hate to be mean. And I am almost obscenely forgiving. it's not because I want people to like me. I pretty much know that the best I can hope for is tolerance. It's because I don't want to make people feel bad.
Unless they really deserve it. By hating my super sweet and funny sisters just because they are pretty, for example.
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