beanie baby worm blog

My dad is a huge fan of Animal Farm by George Orwell. After finally convincing him to read 1984 , we’ve been able to have some really cool discussions about both books. I read Animal Farm back in high school, and 1984 just two years ago. Honestly, a lot of the historical context behind Animal Farm flew over my head, but my dad, being a history buff, really loves it. I’m not sure if he knows every single allusion to the Russian Revolution, but he’s drawn to the themes. Good vs. evil is universal, after all. Plus, it’s pretty silly to imagine pigs in power. What I really appreciate about Animal Farm is how short and accessible it is—you don’t need to be a history expert to grasp its discussions on power dynamics, the corrupting power of knowledge, and group behavior. On a totally different note, I also inherited my dad’s nearsightedness—my siblings and I are all cursed with it. Honestly, I think it adds character to our faces, but maybe I’m just coping with the fact that I have to she...

I read this a few years ago, and it was an immediate favorite which is why I had been wanting to reread it since I finished it the first time. I finally picked it back up recently, and upon my reread, I realized more aspects that I appreciated. Namely, this book is masterful in its use of contrast. Achilles, the deadliest and fated to be the greatest warrior (or killer…) of his era, is yet naive and innocent about life’s harsher realities. Patroclus, meek and demure, holds the strongest moral compass of them all. They grow up together, then slowly, all at once, fall in love. It just feels so obviously… right. Some argue their characters needed more fleshing out, and while I agree to a certain extent with Achilles, for the purposes of the love story, it doesn’t feel necessary to explain why they fell in love. It just feels natural. There are so many facets: war, power, obsession. Achilles’ weaknesses: his legacy, hubris, Patroclus. Patroclus’ weakness: Achilles, his friends. Readers oft...

Let me start off by saying, I like self-help books. And I don’t go into books assuming I will hate them, because to me, that’s a surefire way to ensure you will. So although I went into this book with a bit of grimness, it was more amusement and curiosity than anything. I kind of assume most authors of self-help books are a**holes to some extent, especially if they’re not PhDs or anything. Who else would be pompous enough to write a book claiming to improve your life if not someone who deems themselves worthy enough to do so? Manson is a blogger—formerly a dating advice one—and he’s by no means offering science-backed research or analysis on how to live a more balanced life. He just gets on a soapbox and preaches tidbits of wisdom he’s picked up during his life, with lots of swearing along the way. Original, I know. Okay, but enough of me sh*tting on the guy. This book isn’t a complete waste of paper. Some of the insights are pretty good, when he’s not bragging about the women he’s f*c...

This is not my usual kind of book. I’m frankly not a fan of young adult books, and I feel bad if I let my personal taste affect my review when I knew what I was getting into. Even I defrost a little from my seriousness and rigidity of my preferences in books and venture out of my comfort zone once in a while. All in the name of being well-read, of course. This is a cute book and is vaguely reminiscent of One Last Stop in the way it features a sapphic romance and a band of quirky characters in a friend group—and an ethnically Chinese love interest. But that’s where the similarities end, because this book actually covers more than just the topic of being lesbian in a setting where it’s pretty much not accepted. I really enjoyed the discussion about ethnic/immigrant dynamics, with Yami’s father being in Mexico while she and her mother and brother are in the US, and how this affects their dynamic with their predominantly white school. What affected me the most was how much Yami had to str...

I say this in the most respectful way possible, but why did I think Murakami had passed already? I found out he’s 75 years old after reading this, my first Murakami ever. Anyways, I guess all I’m trying to say is that his work seems so prolific in culture and the sphere of well-known books that I had kind of assumed his works are classics when they’re actually contemporary fiction, or I guess modern classics? Is that a compliment? Maybe. (Not sure where the line gets drawn for what’s considered a modern classic.) I really enjoyed this collection of short stories. My dad tells me that there are either good books or bad books, in the sense that they’re either enjoyable to read or not. And this is a truly enjoyable book to read and experience. Not a single moment dragged, not a page was wasted. This is the second short story collection I’ve read this month that I’ve really enjoyed, so I’m surprised because I never really enjoyed collections of stories or poems—I’m more of a novel person. ...

This book has been sitting on my shelf for a while. Books like these are like broccoli for me—I'm supposed to read them, I know it’s good for me, but I still push them to the edge of my bookshelf and try to ignore them like broccoli on my plate. We all know the internet is bad for us. Who wants to hear all about it? What are we supposed to do? But regardless, this book is great. Yes, it does that thing that a lot of accessible nonfiction does, where it repeats its main ideas a lot, but that just comes with the territory. The first half comes in really strong. It discusses how human brains have the ability to change with our surroundings and how we utilize them. For example, Carr brings up that reading and writing haven’t existed for as long as humans have been around, so our minds and how we process information were different before. I’ve never thought about that if I'm being honest. Although I was a bit worried it would be too technical for me to grasp, it’s pretty readable. I...

It’s rare to see a book about Chinese people, by a Chinese person (I'm mostly talking about Memoirs of a Geisha being written by a white man), be so mainstream. I was extremely excited to dive in, and had expected it to become a new favorite immediately. But as I read it, I turned page after page in utter disappointment at my realization that this book is a pure agglomeration of stereotypes of Chinese immigrant parents and their children. This book is a thinly veiled trauma dump, bursting at the seams with anger, pain, and frustration. The title containing joy and luck is an ironic touch. But after a bit more research as I considered the best and most diplomatic way to word my frustration with this book, it turns out that Amy Tan suffered many of the afflictions that she bestows upon her four daughter characters in this collection of mini stories/vignettes. My disappointment was with the plethora of black-and-white and one-faceted views and depictions of a complex familial and soc...