Why I Love The Fountainhead

If you talked to me sometime mid-June or so, you would know that I raved and gushed over this book. While I doubt many people actually care about what goes on in my head (sad face), I've tried so hard to insert as many references and comments about The Fountainhead only to receive blank stares that I just HAVE to devote a post to my favorite book (thus far). 

If I could fall in love with a book–not hysterical, beautiful love, but destructive, all-consuming love–I would have done so with this book. There is something simultaneously revolting and entrancing about this novel; perhaps that is because I cannot fully understand it, and never will be able to. I could read passages from the book over and over again and never tire, never fully grasp, perpetually stare unseeingly and ponder the monumental words on the pages (I have probably over a hundred pages in the book dog-eared for later scrutiny).
I know quite a few people who shudder and gnash their teeth at the mention of this book, at the mention of the author and her subsequent views conveyed in her works. When I began reading this novel–and as I was reading it–I knew that it would probably go against everything I believe in. But as I was reading this book, I recognized a terrible truth in her doctrine. The Fountainhead basically clobbered me on the head and made me blink, dazed and awed, and see the entire world a new way. It made me wonder, what is integrity, exactly? What is honesty? Where is our world going?
Sure, this is a novel that is crafted around Rand's philosophy of objectivism in rejection of collectivism, but that doesn't mean that it was purely clinical–at least, not for me. The characters themselves reeled me in, elevating me to a strange, metaphysical world as I watched the events unfold from their eyes. I can't even picture these characters clearly in my head; they are merely blurry shapes with personalities and life philosophies larger than life itself. I don't think I have ever read a novel like that (you never forget your first...). I was with Roark every step of the way and watched his battles, his suffering; my heart was literally pounding when the jury was deciding the verdict of the Cortlandt explosion. I actually was almost in tears during his incredible, hefty testimony (I think more than four pages long if I recall correctly). And I really needed to stretch my fingers after I put down the book because I had been gripping the pages so tightly.
This book was exhausting, but truly worth reading. It is most definitely not for everyone, but I think that the reactions it yanks out of every reader are equally strong, one way or another. 
Hats off to Ayn Rand and her brilliant cast of characters. This book has vaulted its way to the very top of my favorites list, and now when someone asks me "What's your favorite book?", a previously stumping question, I can automatically answer with "The Fountainhead". 

And YES I definitely recognize that objectivism is probably not the most practical philosophy to follow!!! But, the application of objectivism to the creative arts is actually very important for at least a few people, otherwise art would be dead.

Unloading

This is mainly just for me, but if you are similar to me in that you're feeling a bit mournful over your social life (rather, lack thereof) because you completely shut down during junior year to stress and work in peace, became way too caught up in academics in general, or are just naturally awkward (or all of the above... like me), then let us compose a mantra together.

You're working towards some higher goal. We all are. Right now, it happens to be college. Just work hard. How to maintain a balance? Some people can, it's true. But if that's something you cannot maintain, don't you dare forsake your hard work and potential just to feel like you fit in. Find what you genuinely love, and delve into that. If you're working hard at something monotonous or formulaic, then yeah, life is going to be pretty depressing. If, on the other hand, you dive into something you truly enjoy, then it doesn't matter how many hours you put in, or how much social enjoyment you've lost.

If you're a senior, focus on college apps with everything you possess–all your gall, all your soul, everything. Maybe you'll pine after the experience of standing with gaggles of friends, or the feeling of engaging in a fun relationship, or totally partying it up, but you will be the one standing tall and proud when results come in. If you do the very best, if you can sit back and look at your essays and say that you are indeed proud of what you've written, then you will–and I guarantee this–get the college that is meant for you. And it will be amazing. (By the way, I'm taking a leap of faith, here.) Keep that front and foremost in your mind. If, for a second, a bit of sorrow and regret creep into your heart, slam down your resolve like a frickin' guillotine and chop away those detrimental sentiments.

Thus, here is the mantra: Work hard now, remember what your goals are, smile and reward yourself when the storms have passed, laugh when you've succeeded. (OKAY FINE, it's not the best mantra, but cut me some slack okay?! I'm not a self-help author or motivational speaker, geez.)

*REMEMBER! Moderation is key, as always. Don't go too far right or too far left (at least, in my humble opinion).

Apples

The girl smiles at her fellow conversationalist, absently rubbing her fingers against the nicked, round object in her right hand. If her eyes hadn’t been fastened to the man currently yammering at her (at approximately seventy miles a minute), one might have concluded that she resembled a scheming, sneering stepmother suggestively cradling her poisoned apple. The girl glances down just as her index fingernail scrapes across the fruit’s freckled skin, drawing a silvered, crescent-moon indent. Quickly, her eyes dart back to the obliviously chattering man. She casually raises the apple and brings it to her lips. Teeth emerge, assessing the challenge, and the apple is reeled in by the yearning mouth’s vortex, saliva gathering thickly. As the teeth incise the object, a sickening crunch begins–then the sound stops short. The teeth adjust to the texture, the sheer volume and mass of the subject. Then, schoop! A smooth sweep finishes the remainder of the bite and concludes with a snap. Juice leaks from the gaping wound, slithering down the skin and coating the fingers, which twitch in alarm at the sudden stickiness. A sickly sweet scent releases from its confines, flooding from the fruit, sinking into air molecules. Exposed flesh glistens feebly in the fluorescent light as the skin hangs in tattered fringes around the ragged wound, cringing, unable to withstand the glaring brightness. The teeth hack up and down, grind back and forth, mercilessly slice through the white fruit; barely detectable grains of spittle and juice fly from the enclave. The tongue stiflingly caresses the slabs of apple. Lips no longer sweetly feminine, thinned by their voracious greediness, seal tightly shut, locking in the mutilated mush in a cage. The tongue rears up as the throat pulses and contracts, sucking in the lumps rapaciously. In less than a second, the cave of a mouth is cleared save for a few remnants of torn pulp lodged between the back molars, under the tongue, or at the base of the throat. The lips part slightly and emit a sigh in brief satisfaction. For one solitary moment, the hunger is mitigated. Then the teeth are bared, descending again, striking over and over again, without pause, without mercy–barely a moment passes between the enveloping, smothering swallow, and the chomping demolition of entrapped fruit. Soon, the teeth are scraping desperately at the core. Skin hangs loose haphazardly. Flesh sags in exhaustion and resignation. The seeds lie exposed, their shelter torn away; the fruit is absolutely desecrated. The girl smacks her lips; the suck and release resounds in the sorrowful, apple-tinged air. The man is broken from the spell of his own voice for the first time and blinks, glancing down at the skeleton of an apple in her sticky, streaked hand. “Wow. You really snapped that apple up, huh?” He comments. She grins with deceptively clean teeth, apple bits now sucked clean from the alcoves of her mouth. “Yep! Sure did!”

Note: I really hope y'all don't eat your apples this way.

Thoughts on Miley Cyrus

So because she has been getting an incredible amount of buzz lately, I thought I might throw in my own two cents.

Miley Cyrus has undoubtedly worked very hard for most of her life. I'm sure it is never easy to be constantly in the spotlight, particularly the Disney spotlight–because then she is automatically pushed to be a role model, and berated when she makes the smallest mistake.

She wants to grow up. But I don't think she has (and I'm sure many will agree with me). Don't get me wrong; I really do like Miley Cyrus and I still, er, somewhat ashamedly, enjoy the Hannah Montana series (please don't judge me). She actually is quite a talented person, and really beautiful. If she weren't in the spotlight 24/7, her actions would not be quite so harshly put down. But, it is what it is. I think that, in the long run, these experiences might be good for her. For now, all the hate she is receiving may fuel her to become even more rebellious and 'controversial', but I do believe that she will become the person she is meant to be soon after this (and that person is definitely not who she is now). I know it's annoying when people dismiss things like "oh, it's just a phase", but seriously, I think it's a just a phase haha. There technically isn't anything wrong with what she's doing; only, there are definitely people who look(ed) up to her, and I'm sure that the majority of those people are...confused. It might not be fair for her to have that kind of responsibility when it appears that she didn't choose to take on that burden, but if you think about it, she did, in a way.

Anyway, I still think she's a creative and great singer. It's simply how she chooses to use/flaunt her abilities (abilities including how she has maintained such an amazing body–that is actually pretty admirable). Experimenting is something some may consider a right for young adults, and that's exactly what Miley Cyrus is doing. Just wait it out :)

P.S. To remind y'all of her talent:

An Amazing Idea!!!

Don't get me wrong–I love my iPhone, but this is an excellent idea! And it's true that e-waste is becoming a direr issue. 

Support at https://www.thunderclap.it/projects/2931-phonebloks :)

Dance Policy

What's "freaking"?
No, it actually is not a euphemism for "f*cking"–not in this case, anyway. Nor is it behaving irrationally and wildly. My friends, in this context, it means "to 'dance' in gyrating motions, usually the male rubs his happy place on the female's rump" (courtesy of Urban Dictionary). This is the typical form of dancing at school dances. In my area, at least.
But why?! I'll admit it–it became normal to me after a couple of years. Everybody did it (overused 'excuse' of the century)! I didn't even mind it. But recently, the principal decided to set forth an anti-freaking law of sorts. Several reasons for this: it was annoying and uncomfortable for chaperones to witness; younger girls, especially freshmen, felt uncomfortable; horrible rumors were spreading (e.g., that upperclassmen boys would target a lone freshman girl and gang up to grind on her); it is, in its nature, rather... gross.
Yeah, the backlash was epic. I was actually a bit shocked by the outspoken pro-freaking comments in our class's Facebook group. On one hand, I get it–really, I do. I mean, what else do we know? Actually dancing dancing takes real effort; freaking is all we know now. We don't have any idea how to dance normally in a social context! WTF is dancing??? (Yes, we sound like idiots. Perhaps we are.)
But at the same time, the administration really does have a point. There is a time and place for freaking, don't get me wrong–clubs, sure, when the purpose is to, er, socialize with another's sexual counterpart. But high school? I don't think so. That's not the natural order of things. Yeah, we're supposed to have fun, but there's a fine line between blatant rashness and relaxed fun. It's true that freaking is a bit of a degradation to females.
If girls choose to sexualize themselves in such a manner, then that's fine, because it's their choice (hopefully an informed choice); they can actually retain power that way if they know exactly what they're doing. But when we're simply following trends and mindlessly copying the people around us, because that's all we know? Geez, I could make dozens, hundreds of examples of the detrimental conformity! Geocentrism, anti-semitism, Lord of the Flies, collectivism–you get my drift (I hope).
I don't know if outright banning freaking was the correct answer, but perhaps this will give some people the courage to dance the way they want to at social events. And I think we are in serious need of a reintegration program, something that will teach us how to dance properly... We seriously have no idea.

HOW DO YOU DANCE??? I don't freaking know!!
(see what I did there?)

Men's Style

"Clothes do not make the man, but they can make the woman's day if worn properly."

1) Navy Suits

2) BOW TIES

3) Coral

4) Pocket Squares

5) White Linen Shirts

6) Sleeves rolled up to the elbows

7) Windsor Knots

8) Ray Bans