Crocheted Toilet Paper Dolls for Everyone!

I was pretty proud of myself because I was consistently writing in this blog at least once a month, but then I suddenly stopped and have not picked it up until now. I realized that very soon after I wrote my last post, I discovered I was pregnant. As far as life changing things go, that's pretty big. So I haven't been writing because I have actually been very seriously focusing on my family, which is good and all, but it's also good for me to keep writing.

So now here's the hard part. I would like to keep writing, but because of this life changing time, I would really like to write about the coolness going on in my life right now (a tiny human growing inside me) and less about the random things by brain comes up with (because the biggest thing on my mind right now is that tiny human). The problem is, I feel like this would turn into a baby blog, and this is most certainly not a baby blog. The other problem is, I cringe inside to start a baby blog. It's not that there's anything horribly wrong with a baby blog; it's just the association I have with people and baby blogs. I feel like it's a little... cheesy? Like giving crocheted toilet paper dolls to everyone for Christmas, you may have put a lot of effort into it, and for a second it might be cute, but in the end it's cheesy and weird.

They're so.... practical?

Anyway, I actually really enjoy baby blogs, which is fine. And in reality, what's wrong with liking crocheted toilet paper dolls either? Nothing really, it's just I know that a large amount of people would prefer to not have them shoved in their face every Christmas. It's the same thing with baby blogs. I know at least some people would really prefer not to have my baby's latest and greatest achievement (OMG GUYZ!!! Baby-sweetiekins* had his first poopoo!!!!) spamming their wall every hour. *Baby-sweetiekins isn't a nickname. That's actually our first pick for boy's names. Lublub-meemers is our choice for a baby girl.

But who knows, maybe there are some people who like baby blogs as much as I do. In fact, I secretly had an obsession with them six months before I even told Matthew that I wanted to have a baby. I devoured these blogs full of the secret lives of the stay at home mom. I stalked forums about pregnancy for hours a day, eating up as much information as I could about babies. When my first niece was born, I cried on the way home from the hospital after holding her for the first time because I realized 1) how much I wanted to be a mom and 2) how terrifying babies really were (they're not really, but I had a freak out moment holding that one-hour-old life, realizing how utterly dependent she was). Needless to say, I was strangely obsessed and conflicted about becoming a mother. I had problems.... 

Basically, one of the things that truly calmed this conflict was reading my friend's baby blog. She talked about having similar feelings and about the difficulties that came when she and her husband finally decided to try for a baby and were unsuccessful for the first 8 or 9 months. Her words comforted me so much because I felt like I was in a similar situation. After reading that, I realized how few baby blogs were out there that talked about becoming a young mother, becoming a mother in college, and the emotional rollercoaster that comes even before getting pregnant. Finding my friend's blog was like finding a gem of comfort from someone who was in a similar situation but had the knowledge that came from being a little further up the road of life than I was.

Sometimes I wonder if I have any friends who are currently in the conflicted position I was a year and a half ago. I wonder if any of them are thinking about becoming a mom, or are currently trying for a baby and finding disappointment, or are pregnant now and enjoy reading and comparing other's experiences. And when I think about how nice it would've been in those times to read about my friend's experiences, I realized that I really would like to write a baby blog, if not for my own sanity's sake, then perhaps for someone else's. Also, I'm sure there are some people out there who I don't get to see much who actually would like to know Baby-sweetiekins/Lublub-meemers latest and greatest achievements.

So are you going to write a baby blog?

Yes. In fact I'm starting one up right now. But let's not call it a baby blog. How about the "Baby Adventure Blog" or something like that? Anyway, I'm saying goodbye to this blog for a little bit, unless I have some random non-baby related thing I need to rant about on here. Until then, I'll try to update the Baby Adventure Blog as much as... well as much as I want I guess :)

P.S. Alright, so I've put my Baby Adventure Blog together. Here's the link if you want to check it out: http://tinyormeadventures.blogspot.com/

Standing Up for Women

Today I discovered the thread on Twitter, #YesAllWomen. It was recently created after the horrifying Isla Vista shooting. The whole purpose is to show how women are mistreated on a daily basis and how men need to be more respectful towards women and treat them like people, not sex objects, a cause dear to my heart as I call myself a feminist.

As I was reading these out loud to Matthew, he asked me if I had ever had an experience where I was mistreated because I'm a girl. I thought for a moment, "Nothing too horrible..." but then when I really thought about it, I realized, yes. Many times. I've decided to share them here because after reading all those tweets from real women with real experiences with mistreatment, I realized that women need to tell these stories otherwise nothing will ever change. This might be hard to hear, but women are mistreated because they are women. It doesn't matter the culture or society; it's happening everywhere. So here are my experiences with it.

First, my most recent experience which I described in a previous blog post. I'm still disturbed by the disrespect demonstrated.

Second, during a college class, in a discussion on beliefs and causes we need to stand up for, I brought up women's rights and how women in our society are often mistreated. My professor immediately put down my point, saying that maybe in other countries that's the case but not in America. We moved on to gun control.

Third, when I was probably fourteen, my sister, Cecilia, and our friend, Cossette, were driving home from a party at midnight. I fell asleep in the back of the car and when I woke up, Cecilia and Cossette were freaking out because the truck next to us had been following us for the past ten minutes. It was full of boys who were cat calling out the window and asking for our phone number. When we pulled off at our exit, they continued to follow us. Cossette ran a red light to try and lose them. They blazed through the red light and continued to follow us. We drove around in zig zags not daring to go home for about fifteen minutes before finally losing them. The fact that I was too afraid to get down their license plate or call the police sickens me. 

Fourth, getting cat calls from truckers on road trips. Also, having to be extra safe on road trips because rape and murder is a serious threat to every girl traveling alone.

Fifth, when I was around fifteen, I was in a car with three boys who were making fun of Twilight. They joked about how no man would have the self control to lie in bed with a girl without having sex with her. One of them mimicked a girl's voice saying, "Edward, I didn't know this would happen," as if all girls are naive to sexuality and all men have no control over their man parts (sound like justifying rape to you?). When I threatened to get out of the car and walk home because of their disrespect, they told me I was overreacting and that they were just kidding. All of them were born and raised LDS, by the way. 

Sixth, having my driver's ed teacher think I was stupid for studying French and pretty much treat me like an idiot while I was driving, but joking and praising the boys who drove. Then having another driver's ed teacher scream and yell at me, then call me "sweetheart" like it made everything okay in the end.

Seventh, having a male teacher ignore, or put down, my comments and my raised hand, but praising and babying any boy who made the stupidest comment.

Eighth, and to me, incredibly upsetting, is the awkward talks that young men's presidents or other male church leaders gave to me and other young women about being modest. I've had talks where men said not to wear lace because it's reminiscent of lingerie. I've had talks where men said that the men on the stand can see down your shirts, so cover up. The underlying message always seems to be, "Your dress gives boys dirty thoughts, which is a sin, and that's your fault." Here's the deal, modesty is not about dress. Modesty is about knowing your self-worth. I've seen the most modest girls in the world wearing tank tops. I've seen some of the most Christlike people I've met with cleavage. They were not sinning. They were not dirty. If a young man looked at them and thought sexual thoughts, he had a problem because the purity that shown through these people made their dress irrelevant. That's what needs to be taught (and is taught) by the female church leaders: women, know your worth and wear it in every aspect of your life, your attitude, your speech, your mannerisms, and (because it usually follows naturally for a modest woman) your dress. Men, teach young men to watch their thoughts and treat women like normal PEOPLE. Let the women take care of the modesty talks. 

The thing that was the worst of these eight incidents was probably the teacher who told me that women aren't mistreated in America. And I thought, "Of course you think that. You're a guy." It isn't the big mistreatments that need to be stopped. These are just a symptom. It's the entire way men see women. We are not sex toys. We are not emotional freaks who are impaired because of our incredible ability to have feelings. We are not to be used as an insult (don't be such a girl, you cry like a girl). We are not weak (childbirth, anyone? Is there anything more painful? And yet I know some women who've done it 10 times. I wouldn't call that weak). Our value is not based on how we look. We are not dumb, naive, or stupid. We deserve respect, just like every person does. I'm proud to say I'm a feminist, and I want to encourage everyone to look out for these instances of mistreatment and stand up for women. If someone calls someone a "girl" for getting upset, call them out for it. If someone asks a girl if she's on her period because she makes a rude comment, remind them that everyone gets upset, no matter their sex. When someone jokes about someone's insufficiency and attributes it to her being a woman, don't stand for that sort of prejudice. I'm sorry to say that these things happen every single day, and I'm tired of it. Let's show some respect for women and stand up for them in every situation, no matter what. 

Writing Dreams

The semester is almost over for me, and I'm in an incredibly nostalgic mood. I'm actually always nostalgic. I think it's why I should've been born in the romantic period. I pour over my old journals reveling in what it was like four, five, six years ago. I never really miss it or wish I could go back; I just love the feeling of looking back with my future perspective and immersing myself in the past.

Usually, I'm the one who chooses to go back into these past reveries, but last week, my past self jumped out at me and reminded me about something incredibly important. You see, I took a class this semester that I never thought I'd take. As a creative writing major, I get to take two specialized creative writing classes, choosing between poetry, fiction, creative non-fiction, screenwriting, and children's writing. I discovered that the only options that worked with my schedule this semester were creative non-fiction and screenwriting. I feel like I do a ton of creative non-fiction anyways (it's practically all I write nowadays, besides dumb syntheses and research papers), but I had never once considered taking a screenwriting class. The idea of writing for tv or movies had never even occurred to me. I thought it would not be something I would be remotely good at or even enjoy. Also, it was a three hour class, once a week, on Wednesday nights. Luckily, I had three awesome friends who were also taking the class and convinced me to do it as well. Now that it's almost over, I can decisively say, it is the best class I could've possibly taken.

At the beginning of the semester, we were told that there would be no tests, no quizzes, no exams, and practically no homework. Our entire grade was pretty much based on writing an entire screenplay. We read a few books on screenwriting as well, but they were so fun, I read them when I wanted to procrastinate my other homework and finished them weeks before we would discuss them (Hermione moment).

So, did you write a screenplay?

I actually did! It's 95 pages, which is about 5 pages short of a full length movie, but I'm still incredibly proud of it. So, I actually finished it two weeks ago (with little to no editing. I spent all of last week cleaning it up as much as possible.), and that's when my past self suddenly resurfaced. After class, I went to the school printer and spent almost $4.00 printing off my first manuscript. It felt almost holy to cradle the warm three inch stack of paper in my arms as Matt and I drove home. When I got home, I remembered that I had two hours to write a science paper, comment on a few discussion boards, and skim a few 100 slide long powerpoints. I was suddenly incredibly angry, but I wasn't quite sure why. I had time to do the homework. I was a little rushed, but it wasn't the stress that was making me angry. As I browsed through the slides with barely any pictures and a hundred blocks of text (obviously, there are still a lot of professors out there who don't understand what a powerpoint is for), I put down my computer because I just couldn't handle that kind of homework anymore.

That's when my past self sort of popped up. She kinda sat there, smiling at me in that deranged way I do when I'm excited. She looked down at my manuscript that was sitting on the floor, forgotten in the rush to finish procrastinated homework. Then she said, "You did it. This is why you came to college. To write." I remembered all the nights I'd force myself to write when I was 17, knowing everything I was writing was horrible, knowing I needed teaching because I didn't have the skill. I wrote a ton of partially finished stories, and I thought, "How will I ever be able to finish a novel? I can't even complete smaller stories." But now I've done it. I've written a full length screenplay, which I actually believe is harder than a novel (In a book, the writer is free to narrate thoughts, feelings, and anything else going on that doesn't have to be shown, whereas in a screenplay, it's all show, no tell.). So, I started to cry, naturally, because I realized, after three years of college, I reached my dream of writing a complete story. I actually feel like I could up and quit college right now and probably do just fine (but I won't... 'cause I'm all responsible and crap *sigh), because I did it! I freakin' wrote this huge story! And it's not horrible! (maybe?)

Writing this screenplay was hard. Not in a physically demanding way (I wrote most of it in bed), but in an emotionally demanding way. Not only are you constantly worrying about your characters in their little world that you created for them, you're worried about your writing, and the plot, and the development, and the plausibility. The nice thing is that I had to force myself to write because part of our grade was writing ten pages a week, a deadline which I only missed once. I needed an opportunity to force myself to write something like this because so many times when I'll start a story, I'm so convinced it's crap that I stop before I get twenty pages in. It was exactly the same way with this story, but this time, I couldn't go back, I couldn't stop, because I only had 10 weeks to write it! So I forced myself to write it, even when I was convinced it was the crappiest thing anyone had ever written. There were times where it was painful to write, and I was certain I was a complete failure and a fool for writing. But I kept writing. And now it's done!

We had to make a mock movie poster for our screenplay.

Do you feel like you're a much better writer now that you've been studying English and writing for three years?

Not really. Actually, if you put my scribblings from when I was 17 and my current writings from today side by side, they'd probably be incredibly similar. Sure, I've learned some tips about writing (like tactfully using exposition, which I suck at, and showing not telling, which I also suck at), and my grammar has definitely improved (but my spelling hasn't). Still, the only reason I think I was able to complete this full length story is because I had deadlines and my grades on the line, not because I suddenly developed a super power for writing.

I honestly believe the only thing I have learned that made it so I was able to write this screenplay, whereas before I couldn't get past twenty pages of anything I wrote, is to never stop writing, not even to edit, until the story is finished. That may not be how other people write, but I realized that is the only way I can write something full length. My professor, Sister Gilbert, kind of forced me into realizing this. After writing my first ten pages (which I knew were complete crap), Sister Gilbert told us that we were not allowed to go back and edit, but that we had to keep writing the next ten pages. This boggled my mind. I always thought you should make whatever you write pristine before you write more, but she explained that you'll be so disappointed when you try to edit that you'll discourage yourself. Now, she only said this for the first ten pages, but I decided to try this for my entire screenplay. I took notes on the side of my work so I could remind myself of things I wanted to change and of good advice that my writing group and professor had given me, but it wasn't until I had a "THE END" that I went back and actually changed all of those things. This was so healthy because instead of beating myself up over the plot holes and character problems, I simply took down a note then kept writing.

So if I could ever pop up on my past self's couch (which is a fantasy I have a lot. There are so many things 17-year-old me needs to know! Like how she'll be married in two years so quit worrying about boys. They're all dumb, but there's one who isn't and he'll find you, so don't worry.), I would probably say, "You totally have the ability to write a book right now. All you have to do is keep writing. Don't stop to edit until your done. Even if it's crap, even if you hate it, even if you can't see where it's going, keep writing. Step into the darkness. It'll be light soon enough. Just take it step by step. You'll get there."

My Life Through Books

Once again I'm surprised that after all this time having a blog, I've never had a post about books! This is crazy. I mean, books are my thing. I like to binge them like a Wholockian binges BBC. The problem is that when I'm at school, I read so many classic and academic books that I have barely enough time to read fun books (that is, young adult literature). As soon as the semester ends (3 weeks!!!!) I engorge myself on any YA Lit I can get my hands on.

Do you not like the classics you read in school?

On the contrary. I read Death Comes to the Arch Bishop last semester and 1984 this semester, and I'm pretty sure both have changed my life and how I see the world. However my brain is so full of deep, tangled thoughts because of these books that by the end of the semester, I want to read something simply for the enjoyment of reading, not to get big ideas about the world and stuff (because you can only have so much of that in one year).

So this week I was talking with two of my Writing Center friends, Tashara and Celine, about the books that we fell in love with when we were growing up. Now, there are some conversations which I wish I could have every day, and this is one of them. We got so excited when we realized that we had fallen in love with the same books around the same ages. The thing about finding someone who loves the same book as you is that each time you fall in love with a book, it becomes a part of you. So when you meet someone who had the same connection with that book, suddenly it's like you are long lost sisters that were princesses in a far away kingdom together, or battled monsters in an ancient war together, or watched a beautiful couple fall in love together. That day, I kind of felt like Tashara, Celine, and I were long lost sisters who had travelled some of the same journeys and we were now just realizing it.

I took a Young Adult Literature class once (Best class in the world, by the way. Oh, you want me to read fifteen YA novels of my choice? I've already got 30 picket out!), and the teacher asked us at the beginning of the class to write a list of every book that we remember reading as a child and young adult that had an effect on us. This was one of my favorite assignments because I realized how many books changed my life. So today, I'm going to do something like that. And if you realize that we read the same books and we're actually long lost book siblings, let me know. I'd love to talk to you about those long ago journeys that we once had.

My Early Years (4-11)

I don't remember everything I read, and I know my mom read me many, many picture books, but I'm going to stick to larger books to keep the list short.

Frog and Toad

I know I read this when I was four because my mom tells me I would read it on my own and laugh out loud because I thought it was so funny. I still laugh out loud at Frog and Toad.  

The Backward Bird Dog

I actually loved any book by Bill Wallace (specifically Snot Stew and Totally Disgusting!) because I loved dogs so much, and he always writes about dogs. I especially like this one though, probably because this poor dog goes through so much and is kind of weird, but he turns out to be pretty awesome in the end. I like underdog stories ;)

The Giver

I'm still not sure why this book didn't send me into as much of a reading frenzy as it should have. It was my first dystopian novel, and I was disturbed yet intrigued by it. The idea of a society like this was so horrifying and fascinating to me. It planted the seeds for my love of dystopia later on.

Young Teen (12-15)

I went through a time where I really didn't read much besides animal books and picture books. I was tentative to step into the world of bigger novels. Every time I tried, I never really liked the story too much. I was just having a hard time finding good novels. Then, my friend, Nicky, suggested I read something by Cornelia Funke. I suddenly wanted to never stop reading because of her books.

The Thief Lord

This was the book that got me back into reading. I remember my family took a road trip when I was probably twelve, and I bought The Thief Lord to read on the way. I stayed in the car late into the night while everyone else set up camp because I couldn't put it down. When I did, it was to marvel at how much I loved the story. I thought I would never love a book as much as this one, but then I read Cornelia Funke's other novel.

Inkheart

I don't actually know how many times I've read Inkheart, but I could probably tell you the entire story without glancing at my tattered paperback copy. The reason it was so compelling to me was because I had started to fall in love with books (I finally started reading the Harry Potter books, much later than many of my friends), and this book answered the question, what if you could make your favorite characters come out of a book or what if you could go inside your favorite book? Nothing was more exciting to me than that prospect. I think this is also when I started writing. I realized I couldn't get enough of these stories in books, and that I had my own stories I wanted to tell. So I started filling up notebooks with what once had been daydreams and were now stories.

Eragon

I was on a fantasy kick, and I thought nothing could be more exciting than having your own dragon. I also read this one multiple times, but I never got into the series. The first book was good enough for me.

The Goose Girl

I loved The Goose Girl because I had long blonde flowing tresses as well. I just think it's the perfect princess story, one where the princess must be brave and save the day, but without the heavy handed feminist push. She still needs and loves her prince, and their relationship is perfect.

Twilight

I absolutely loved the first two books in this series. I was lucky enough to read them before the explosions of Twilight hate happened, and I would have been shamed to the point of reading them in the bathroom. I had some pretty harsh comments about my love of Twilight later on. Some of my peers were even forbidden to read it, as if it were satanic (some were forbidden to read Harry Potter as well. Pro tip for parents: Don't ever tell your kid not to read something. It'll only make them wonder why and then they'll want to read it more. Instead, tell them  you read it and it was boring. Then they actually won't read it). For me, it was my first experience reading a seriously romantic novel, and it was awesome. I never ever thought I could like any romantic novel (I thought romance books were boring. See parents, if anyone had told me it was boring, I wouldn't have read it. Instead everyone told me it was evil, so I had a certain pride in my love for it), but Twilight changed that. It made me actually want to read Jane Austen, whereas before I thought anything that lovey-dovey would be a waste of time.

Older Teen (16-18)

I devoured so many books in my teen years that I can't even remember most of them. We moved to Virginia when I was 16, and I didn't have a homeschool group anymore, so I decided to educate myself only by reading. I read a ton of classics, but I also read many, many fun books. Here are some of the ones that I remember having a strong effect on me.

Pendragon

I actually started this series when I was probably fourteen or fifteen (my best friend, Alissa, suggested them), but it's such a huge series (10 books!) that I had to wait for some of the books to come out, so I didn't finish it until I was eighteen. It was actually probably the most disappointing series I've ever read (dues ex machina to the max), but the individual books are pretty good. The author probably should have stuck with his original idea, which was to have ten separate books with ten separate worlds instead of trying to combine all of them into a series that didn't make sense. One cool thing is that the book about the planet Quillian is pretty much like The Hunger Games, but not as good. 

Airborn

One of my favorite steam punk novels. This is also a series (which I finished only last year and found only mildly disappointing), although I didn't know it when I picked up the first one. It's probably at the level of Inkheart in inspiration for me. It is aesthetically beautiful, and because of the main character's strong desire for flying, at many moments I wished I could fly too. I figure if a character wants something so bad that the reader wants it too, that's a good book.

Foundling

Another steam punk, but this time with monsters. Oh my gosh I wish people would write more monster books. I don't know why, but I love monsters. Not in the vampire/werewolf sort of way, but in the lanky thing in the woods, enormous shadow in the water, giant that hides behind mountains sort of way. This is a series, but the first one is probably the best. It constantly asks the question, who are the real monsters?

Incarceron

I had always wanted to get into dystopian novels, but I couldn't find any quite as good as The Giver. I read Incarceron because of the front cover and the description on the back. It just seemed like the perfect dystopia, and it was. What was really cool is that my aunt bought me the UK edition of the second book, Sapphique, before it was out in America. They are interesting reads with fascinating concepts about society and science.

The Prince of Mist

This is probably one of the creepiest books I've ever read. I actually started listening to it on CD, but they added all these creepy sound effects and I just could not handle it. Instead I read it curled up in a blanket in the middle of the night. Also not a good idea. I'm not one for horror, but this isn't scary in the disturbing, blood and guts sense. It's more scary in the Mothman sense (which I also watched all alone at night. What is wrong with me?!), but not in a way that I want to curl up in a ball wearing a tiara, watching Tinkerbelle, and eating cupcakes until my fear resides, kind of way. More in a, oh my gosh how can this be happening, why is this happening, how can anything be so evil, sort of way. Definitely worth the two hours it takes to read it.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

So, after The Prince of Mist, I was on a scary book kick, and I saw the cover of this book and knew it was just the sort of creepy book for me. Like I said, I love monster books, and this is the scariest monster book I've read. Well, I also read it in the middle of the night while listening to Library Tapes, so maybe that wasn't such a good idea either. This book is a YA book, but it felt like an older book to me, which was good because I was about 18 and ready for older books. 

Almost something like an adult (19-21)

I still read YA lit, so I don't feel like a real adult, but here are books I've read since being a teenager that have been amazing.

Unwind

I love it when people take serious modern day issues and address them in an objective (or seemingly objective) way in a novel. This book address the topic of abortion by presenting you the information in a what if scenario, in such a way that you must decide for yourself what life is really worth. I listened to it on CD while on a road trip with my sister, and we had to pause it multiple times just to gape and then discuss.

The Night Circus

I read this while I was engaged, living at home, and nannying to save up money for my wedding. I thought it was adult fiction, so I was all excited to be reading a real adult novel! But it actually falls under the category of Sort of Adultish-Sort of Late Teenish. Boo. But it is probably one of the most beautiful books I've ever read. I tend to get incredibly immersed into books when I read (so much that you can call my name and speak to me and I won't hear you at all), but I sank so deep into this book, mostly because of the descriptions, that when I came out, I felt like I had to gasp for air.

The Scorpio Races

I read Maggie Siefvater's Shiver, and thought it was pretty meh, so I wasn't incredibly excited for this one. Then I found out it's about monster-flesh-eating water horses, and you know how much I love monsters. It's got a very sweet love story as well, much more honest feeling than the relationship in Shiver.

The Adoration of Jenna Fox

I literally picked up this book fully expecting to put it down within the first chapter. I picked it randomly from a library bookshelf and thought, "Meh, let's try it." I was engrossed within the first chapter. It's also dystopian, although I didn't know it at first, and it also address similar issues as Unwind, such as, what is human life, really?

So, wow, that's a lot of books.

Yeah... I didn't think I'd write about that many, and I actually had to restrain myself from writing about more. They really are a huge part of my life.

Actually, as I look back on all of these books, it's like looking back on my entire life. I grew from animals, to fantasy, to romance, to dystopian, to spine-tingling, to current issues. Each book is a piece of me. I feel like if you read them all in the order I put them in, you would somehow know me. You'd know why I think certain ways and what I was like when I was younger and what I dream about. You could try it, if you have time. Call it the "Discovering Esther Through Books" experiment. I'd love to know what everyone else's list is. Then I could do the "Discovering So-and-So Through Books" experiment, and somehow we'd know each other better than many of our closest friends.

P.S. I did not put the Harry Potter or Hunger Games series on this list. They were an enormous part of my life and to this day I reread them. However, because they are so popular, I didn't feel like I had much to say about them; I've discussed them so much already. If you really want to do the "Discovering Esther Through Books" experiment, you could toss those books in too, but you've probably already read them (right? RIGHT?).

P.P.S Check out my goodreads account for a look at more books I like.