Warm Bodies: Evolution of the Evolution of Humans

The adaptation of Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion into a film was a great idea. Sure, it's cheesy, and no, it does not accurately represent the book, but I still love it. It is no cinematic masterpiece, but I like the fact that both mediums evoke the same responses.

Warm Bodies follows R, a zombie of unknown origin, in his time as one of the living dead. Following the stereotypical zombie lifestyle, R finds a girlfriend, marries, and is given children to look after. He ingests only the living and can only communicate with occasional guttural grunts. R cannot sleep or dream or die.

Then, one hunting trip, R is changed forever.

Upon the ingestion of a certain living being named Perry, R begins to fall in love with Perry's girlfriend, Julie. Amidst the building carnage of the hunt, R protects Julie and brings her back home. Over the days Julie is held captive, her friendship with R transforms him more and more into a living being.

Although Julie returns to her home in the living sector, the transformation in R continues and seemingly infects other living dead. Realizing that the governing bodies (no pun intended) of the living dead, the Boneys, are aware of the contagion and its source, R travels to the living sector in search of Julie.

Once again under R's protection from the impending attack, Julie and R have no choice but to present themselves to the governing officials of the living. Having to convince the living of the living dead's transformation proves more difficult than they anticipated, but in the end, the actions of the living dead provide enough evidence to convince the officials.

Written as R's first-person account of the preceding events, Warm Bodies accentuates the blurred line surrounding the concepts of living and life. It subtly invites readers to consider the meaning of life and love in the unconventional relationship between R and Julie. What a surprise coming from (seemingly) young adult fiction!

Spend a Whole Day Reading a Novel: The Twelve Tribes of Hattie

I knew for this challenge I would want to pick the right book, not just any book I had on hand. I began reading it the night before and I knew that that I wanted to spend the entire day with it, reading, reflecting, and processing it.

The novel is about Hattie Shepherd and the raising of her children in 20th-century Philadelphia. Hattie, an African-American, struggles to provide for her children with her husband August who ends up being more of a disappointment to her than anything else. A tragedy early on in their marriage results in a lifetime of anger and resentment for Hattie. Her children, raised with her callousness, go on to lead very different lives and constantly ache for their mother's love. The brief snapshots into her and her children's lives, however, provide insight to the inner workings of the Shepherd family and Hattie's immense love for her children.

Throughout the tales of Hattie and her children, I contemplated my future family and reflected on my own familial relations. As much as I say I do not like children, I actually do. I just don't feel comfortable with them because I do not know where my boundaries are as a stranger. I am neither a parent nor other family member, so what can I do to show my affection and well-being for the child? I would love to show affection for young'uns because that's how I feel most comfortable with children.

Hattie, on the other hand, worked immensely to keep her children fed and clothed. Some might consider this an implied responsibility of mothership, but with the constant barrage of hardships she had endured I consider this quite a feat for her. Hattie felt as though there was no more love in her to be given after doing all that was necessary for her children.

At one point, Hattie blames herself for not recognizing her daughter's distress. She says, "I never did know what to do about my children's spirits. I didn't know how to health anybody in that way." My compassion for her rose to new heights as I read those lines. What I saw in those lines was a woman exhausted by providing for her family trying to be a better mother. She gave no excuses, she simply stated her faults. 

I wonder how much I will change my response to children if I do become a parent. I can now discern the love my parents and grandparents expressed in doing what was necessary for me, especially when I did not appreciate it, but I wonder if I will have the fortitude to do that for my children if the time comes... 

Activism in the Form of Love

Today I began writing a letter to the store manager of a Starbucks near Linfield. Why? Well, because I love my friends.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet my friend Millygoat.
She's a sweetheart in every sense of the word.
She loves nature and being active.
She's crazy... adorable.
She's also small.
Imp-like.
Little.
AND I LOVE HER!

My friend Milly is an impish young woman I met briefly at a pre-college gathering in Seattle. A year or so later, Milly and I reconnected on a whole other level. One of the many special things about Milly is that she is extremely allergic to several things. She is especially allergic to dairy.

Long story short, the aforementioned Starbucks served Milly milk instead of soy, not once, but on three separate occasions. Milly knows how to handle these kinds of situations - she simply popped some Benadryl and explained to the baristas the mishap. The baristas only offered to make her a new drink. The serious harm that could have come to my friend due to the mishap is primarily the reason I am writing the letter.

I do not want to immediately assume the mishaps were due to carelessness. I know mistakes happen - it is a fact of life. I also understand that some people simply like the taste of soy and do not have dietary restrictions like Milly's, however, I am outraged that the baristas treated it with nonchalance. I had hoped they would realize the seriousness of the situation and offer assistance of some kind, not simply another beverage. The fact that this particular location was the site of the other two mishaps alarmed me. I wonder if the baristas realized the gravity of the situation - Milly's health and safety was compromised due to simply using the wrong substance.

I find it unacceptable as a business to have such poor service. I know there are others like Milly that are lactose intolerant and suffer from mistakes baristas make and I say enough is enough. People need to know that food allergies are important and need to be treated as such. No one's loved ones should not have to be subjected to more discomfort than they have to, especially with something as basic as food.

I am following Milly's lead and avoiding the Starbucks, but I did not think that was enough. I thought the store manager ought to know the reason it lost our business. I hope that in writing to the store manager about my disappointment and concerns, the location will change its practices or at least be more aware the next time a customer with a severe food allergy appears. One can only hope!