Let me begin by saying that I read all of the Twilight books and really enjoyed them. I will further add that the movies were pretty horrible, with the exception of the first one which was cool simply because it came first. Oh also, I can't stand K Stew and R Patz and Team Jacob and all that crap.
However, back to the books themselves. Many people (rightly) claim that the books are horribly written teen novels, so how the hell did they become so popular? The people who ask this question have clearly never been a 15 year-old girl with a crush.
Never, ever underestimate the power of teenage hormones. I mean, can't you remember them? Can't you remember the rush? I WISH that I could feel a crush as deep as I felt when I was that age. And now, I will tell you the story of one such crush about a certain young man, B.
This is an actual diary entry written about B. I'll set the scene:
I'm lying on my bunk at summer camp, looking out through the fabric screen at the flood lights of the basketball court where the rest of the counselors and CITs are gathered, gossiping and shooting hoops. As per usual, because I am geeky and different, I am off by myself, writing.
*************
Di,
I was just thinking about the way I feel and for the first time, I think I’m really in love. Really. I dreamed about B last night. I dreamed that I was kissing his soft neck and lips, tenderly, but he didn’t want me.
That’s the way it is. I worship this boy. He is 20. He has dark hair cut very short to his head, a scar on his chin that I would love to run my fingers along, and eyes...eyes that dance and sparkle full of light & depth when he looks at you...into you.
He likes others more than me. When I talk to him I can tell that he’s begrudging it, and then he warms to me. Tonight I stood with M, talking to him. He talked of his work as a painter...how he loves art and that’s his life. His words were personal & striking. While he talked, as if shyly, he dug his toe into the ground, looking at it and then at us with those eyes...those perfect perfect eyes. Oh I ache for him. He is beautiful. He is perfect. He is so, so, the one for me. As I stood talking to him, my eyes poured over him. I’m afraid that he thinks me to be a fool, a normal, average kid who does not have any of the depth that he has.
I ache for him. I want him for his musical soul, for his art, for his eyes. I want him to like me and respect me, to think me ½ the beautifullness that I think him.
But he likes the Spanish girls I & M better. They are different and special like him, but not me. Please god, God, if you ever give me anything now, give me him. Give me his love and I swear I will love him back.
I will cry if I see him ignoring me & liking another girl. Please, oh please let me have him.
*************
I actually remember that night clearly. I had just left B with the Spanish girls, and I could see them through the gauzy screen.
The next day, I was helping to paint one of the cabins with another CIT, Jess. As we walked down the path with our bucket of green paint, she said, "Oh my god, don't you think B is so cute??!" To which I answered, quite seriously, "Yes...he is so beautiful. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen." To which she stared at me strangely and didn't say much else. I mean...I get it, I was intense! I was weird! Being a geeky, emotional girl in a world full of socially-savvy, sporty girls who know how to say just the right thing is difficult. (Ummmmm....can anyone say Bella Swan?)
A few weeks later, on a sultry August night, I was thrilled to be assigned to OD with B. (OD, otherwise known as "On Duty" is when two counselors, a male and female, must sit out in the middle of the unit after lights-out until all of the campers have settled down.) Being on OD was generally considered a pain. All of the other counselors usually left for the night, driving down to the local Chinese restaurant, which meant that the counselors on OD were stuck sitting on a dark picnic table with flashlights, dealing with kids who came out of their cabins feeling nauseous or having peed the bed. For me, it was a good 2 hours of time allotted to sitting beside this subject of my intense desire.
I freaked out all day long with excitement, looking forward to the moment when I would finally be alone with B. When the time came, and we were alone, I remember being nervously silent for a while before he said, "So, you like to write, huh?"
"How did you know?"
"Because you're always writing in that notebook. I noticed."
Oh, he was so perfect! He actually NOTICED me!
"Well, yeah. It's my journal. I always keep a journal at camp. I have journal entries from back when I was a midget." (Midget campers were the youngest campers.)
"That's really cool." He paused. "You know...I remember you when you were a midget. I was a CIT in your unit."
"Really? I was...pretty dorky and quiet when I was 10. I'm surprised you remember me."
There was silence for a while that became unbearable. I said the first thing that came to mind. "So...you like to jump rope?"
This was an understatement. B's big thing was jumping rope for what seemed like forEVER in front of his cabin, sweating through a holey t-shirt, bandana across his forehead, biceps bulging.
"Yeah. It's a good workout."
"Yeah."
More silence.
"Well, what do you remember about me from when I was a midget?" I asked him.
"That you were always playing the piano in the dining hall and you were really good at it. I mean, I never heard someone play the piano that good that was so young."
"Seriously? That's so...flattering that you remember that. I didn't think anyone remembered anything about me from back then."
He suddenly turned and faced me, looking seriously right into my eyes. "You know...you need to be more confident. You're a really cool girl. You write, you play the piano. That is so cool. Kate....YOU are a really cool girl." He leaned forward, his slate grey eyes black in the moonlight, and kissed me softly - perfectly. And my dreams had come true.
NOT.
Anyone who has been faithfully reading my blog knows that I didn't receive my first kiss until I was 18, and it was not from B! It was from Mauricio the Mexican exchange student!
No, in a real world, the geeky, emotionally mature girl never gets the hot perfect guy. That's why there are so many movies made on this topic. Everyone wants it to happen! It's just not reality.
In reality, B started hooking up with J, a leggy, athletic girl with brown curls who could shoot a perfect free-throw. I saw them in line at the salad bar. His big arms were around her and he was singing "The Girl is Mine".
This brings me to my final word.
Twilight is popular because it expertly taps into the mind of a teenage girl. It feeds them exactly what they most want to hear...a story of someone like them scoring the hottest guy in school. Thus, teenage girls will swoon over it, and women my age will remember what it is like to feel swoony, so we will love it too.
Actually...no. This is my final word:
It's absolutely disgusting that Bella and Edward hook up because he is like, 150 years old and she is 15. I will never be able to reconcile this.
However, back to the books themselves. Many people (rightly) claim that the books are horribly written teen novels, so how the hell did they become so popular? The people who ask this question have clearly never been a 15 year-old girl with a crush.
Never, ever underestimate the power of teenage hormones. I mean, can't you remember them? Can't you remember the rush? I WISH that I could feel a crush as deep as I felt when I was that age. And now, I will tell you the story of one such crush about a certain young man, B.
This is an actual diary entry written about B. I'll set the scene:
I'm lying on my bunk at summer camp, looking out through the fabric screen at the flood lights of the basketball court where the rest of the counselors and CITs are gathered, gossiping and shooting hoops. As per usual, because I am geeky and different, I am off by myself, writing.
*************
Di,
I was just thinking about the way I feel and for the first time, I think I’m really in love. Really. I dreamed about B last night. I dreamed that I was kissing his soft neck and lips, tenderly, but he didn’t want me.
That’s the way it is. I worship this boy. He is 20. He has dark hair cut very short to his head, a scar on his chin that I would love to run my fingers along, and eyes...eyes that dance and sparkle full of light & depth when he looks at you...into you.
He likes others more than me. When I talk to him I can tell that he’s begrudging it, and then he warms to me. Tonight I stood with M, talking to him. He talked of his work as a painter...how he loves art and that’s his life. His words were personal & striking. While he talked, as if shyly, he dug his toe into the ground, looking at it and then at us with those eyes...those perfect perfect eyes. Oh I ache for him. He is beautiful. He is perfect. He is so, so, the one for me. As I stood talking to him, my eyes poured over him. I’m afraid that he thinks me to be a fool, a normal, average kid who does not have any of the depth that he has.
I ache for him. I want him for his musical soul, for his art, for his eyes. I want him to like me and respect me, to think me ½ the beautifullness that I think him.
But he likes the Spanish girls I & M better. They are different and special like him, but not me. Please god, God, if you ever give me anything now, give me him. Give me his love and I swear I will love him back.
I will cry if I see him ignoring me & liking another girl. Please, oh please let me have him.
*************
I actually remember that night clearly. I had just left B with the Spanish girls, and I could see them through the gauzy screen.
The next day, I was helping to paint one of the cabins with another CIT, Jess. As we walked down the path with our bucket of green paint, she said, "Oh my god, don't you think B is so cute??!" To which I answered, quite seriously, "Yes...he is so beautiful. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen." To which she stared at me strangely and didn't say much else. I mean...I get it, I was intense! I was weird! Being a geeky, emotional girl in a world full of socially-savvy, sporty girls who know how to say just the right thing is difficult. (Ummmmm....can anyone say Bella Swan?)
A few weeks later, on a sultry August night, I was thrilled to be assigned to OD with B. (OD, otherwise known as "On Duty" is when two counselors, a male and female, must sit out in the middle of the unit after lights-out until all of the campers have settled down.) Being on OD was generally considered a pain. All of the other counselors usually left for the night, driving down to the local Chinese restaurant, which meant that the counselors on OD were stuck sitting on a dark picnic table with flashlights, dealing with kids who came out of their cabins feeling nauseous or having peed the bed. For me, it was a good 2 hours of time allotted to sitting beside this subject of my intense desire.
I freaked out all day long with excitement, looking forward to the moment when I would finally be alone with B. When the time came, and we were alone, I remember being nervously silent for a while before he said, "So, you like to write, huh?"
"How did you know?"
"Because you're always writing in that notebook. I noticed."
Oh, he was so perfect! He actually NOTICED me!
"Well, yeah. It's my journal. I always keep a journal at camp. I have journal entries from back when I was a midget." (Midget campers were the youngest campers.)
"That's really cool." He paused. "You know...I remember you when you were a midget. I was a CIT in your unit."
"Really? I was...pretty dorky and quiet when I was 10. I'm surprised you remember me."
There was silence for a while that became unbearable. I said the first thing that came to mind. "So...you like to jump rope?"
This was an understatement. B's big thing was jumping rope for what seemed like forEVER in front of his cabin, sweating through a holey t-shirt, bandana across his forehead, biceps bulging.
"Yeah. It's a good workout."
"Yeah."
More silence.
"Well, what do you remember about me from when I was a midget?" I asked him.
"That you were always playing the piano in the dining hall and you were really good at it. I mean, I never heard someone play the piano that good that was so young."
"Seriously? That's so...flattering that you remember that. I didn't think anyone remembered anything about me from back then."
He suddenly turned and faced me, looking seriously right into my eyes. "You know...you need to be more confident. You're a really cool girl. You write, you play the piano. That is so cool. Kate....YOU are a really cool girl." He leaned forward, his slate grey eyes black in the moonlight, and kissed me softly - perfectly. And my dreams had come true.
NOT.
Anyone who has been faithfully reading my blog knows that I didn't receive my first kiss until I was 18, and it was not from B! It was from Mauricio the Mexican exchange student!
No, in a real world, the geeky, emotionally mature girl never gets the hot perfect guy. That's why there are so many movies made on this topic. Everyone wants it to happen! It's just not reality.
In reality, B started hooking up with J, a leggy, athletic girl with brown curls who could shoot a perfect free-throw. I saw them in line at the salad bar. His big arms were around her and he was singing "The Girl is Mine".
This brings me to my final word.
Twilight is popular because it expertly taps into the mind of a teenage girl. It feeds them exactly what they most want to hear...a story of someone like them scoring the hottest guy in school. Thus, teenage girls will swoon over it, and women my age will remember what it is like to feel swoony, so we will love it too.
Actually...no. This is my final word:
It's absolutely disgusting that Bella and Edward hook up because he is like, 150 years old and she is 15. I will never be able to reconcile this.
 |
| A grown-up version of my camper self |
Very good point!!! One of the reasons fictional stories are popular are because they present an alternate, desirable reality... that allows us to escape.
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