Thursday. Yerp.

I just finished my book. Holy crap. Basically, it is set in North America post destruction of today's modern life. There are 12 districts set up there, and one Capital (the Capitol). Every year the Capitol holds the Hunger Games, which two "tributes" ( a boy and a girl) from each district attend, basically as payment to the Capitol for the rebellion about eighty years ago. Katniss Everdeen, the main character, is tribute for her district. The book is basically about a bunch of kids dying in these sick minded games where the contestants are put into an arena and left to fend for themselves- the only way to get out is survive by killing the others and becoming the victor.

Obviously it's original; I've never read anything like it before. The writing was good enough to hold my attention, and the characters are all pretty interesting... it's just the themes that get to me a little. I mean, Stephen King praised it, though I suppose he would, because he's totally into that killing-off-of-good-characters thing, and Stephenie Meyer said it was good too, though what would she know?

I wish I had some award winning, weird book to read. I like weird books. The Hunger Games just made me a little uneasy. It's a trilogy too, and now I want to read 2 and 3 to see what happens.

Hm. Uneventful day. Friday tomorrow. Yuss.

Adios :)

EDIT: I am so angry.

I'm pretty possessive. I get incredibly angry when someone wrecks something of mine, or sometimes even touches or moves something or mine. I suppose everyone is like that to a degree, but with some things I take it a little further. How ironic that I, as a person who reads a lot, is able to keep my books pretty well maintained, while my sister, who, although although also a reader (who reads things of a considerably lower standard than the books I was reading at her age), cannot seem to read something of mine without destroying it.
Recently she borrowed Perfume: The Story of a Murderer from me. It's one of those nice, clean looking, orange and cream coloured Penguin classics. She had it in her bag, and somehow she managed to get this red and blue shit all over the cover. She mutilated parts of the edges and bent the covers back. It makes me so damn angry. The book was cheap, about ten bucks, but I still can't help but want to pick up something heavy, maybe the piano, and bash her over the head with it.