Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

I initially did not notice that the girl
on the cover of the book was floating in midair.

By the title alone, one might expect the book to be an... unusual sort of book. Written by Ransom Riggs, the novel covers the formative years of Jacob Portman and his relationship with his grandfather, Abraham Portman. Born into a comparatively wealthy family, Jacob was fostered by his grandfather's stories in his youth only to disregard them in his teenage years as "fairy stories." One evening, his grandfather calls him hysterical about the monsters he had spoken to Jacob of years before. What follows is Jacob's search for the truth about his grandfather and his grandfather's stories.

The plot itself is not what I found most fascinating about the book... It was the story intricately woven between the black-and-white photos enclosed in the book. Riggs used strangers photos to highlight the mysterious and strange children described in the novel. The photos were taken from various collections, making them all the more valuable in the detailing of an interesting story.

I often wonder about old photographs and what stories they hold, portraits in particular.

Source

Who is this girl? How old is she? Why is this photograph being taken? Is it a special occasion? Is she unhappy? Is she serene? What is she looking at?

All the questions and more stem from one simple picture. It takes a certain kind of storyteller to be able to weave a story out of several random photographs - not to mention an intriguing one.

Ridiculous Analogies of My Current State of Being

As I was running errands and interacting with people today, I realized how much more entertaining things would be if we could sum up how we are through analogies. For instance, instead of the typical dialogue:

Cashier: How are you?

Me: I'm good, thanks. How are you?

Cashier: Good. I'm good.

 Me: Good.

Our conversations would flow more like this:

Cashier: How are you?

Me: I am swimming in the ocean, with one eye on the shoreline, listening to the waves calling me further in. How are you?

Cashier: I'm sorry to hear that. I am melted chocolate without a mold, shaped only by a caring hand.

Me: Good for you! I hope your day matches your mood.

I swear, I'm not crazy. I just have a hard time brushing people off when they or I ask how the other is. I do not necessarily want to tell them my whole life story, but at the same time I wish we could share a little bit of our lives with each other without it being awkward. I understand that some people have enough problems and wouldn't necessarily want to bother nor be bothered by anyone else, but it irks me that I can't have a bad day in public. It's not appropriate.

For instance, today I was exhausted from a rough night and constantly felt irritated by those around me. I knew my poor mood was due to lack of sleep and I felt myself constantly correct behavior. After a while my frustration grew and I retreated home to relax.

My challenge is this: ask someone how they are doing and mean it. Ask after their family or their job or school and talk with them if they want to continue the conversation. Make time to make a connection with someone - you never know, they might need it.

Following the Funny Feeling: the Tale of a Stray Dog

This morning my dad had the uncanny idea that today would be a good day for a walk with our dog, Echo. We bundled up and got started walking down the street, noticing that the sky was getting darker as we distanced ourself from home.

Dad and I had barely left the neighborhood when we saw the stray dog, sniffing around the bushes. Echo greeted the dog in his normal fashion as I reached for her name tag. In place of her name tag was the number for what turned out to be the local Animal Control agency. As I called the number, trying to figure out what to do, our neighbor drove up and offered his assistance. None of us recognized the dog from our neighborhood so we decided it was best to take her to the Humane Society.

I, of course, grew attached to the dog in the short time we new each other. I nicknamed her Hattie, partially after the character in the novel I recently read, but also because she escaped our hands three times (hat trick). She is very well behaved and friendly and not to mention gorgeous! How could I not become attached?

Fortunately we were able to drop her off at the Humane Society and got a number to call in a few days to see if she is doing okay. Hopefully her owners will find her.

Strangely enough, my dad insisted on going on a walk, despite the fact that it was down pouring. He later admitted that he had had a funny feeling about it and decided to follow it. Thank goodness we did, otherwise we might not have been able to help Hattie!