She’s so herpadorable!
This actually did happen to a real person, and the real person was me. I had gone to catch a train. This was April 1976, in Cambridge, U.K. I was a bit early for the train. I’d gotten the time of the train wrong.
I went to get myself a newspaper to do the crossword, and a cup of coffee and a packet of cookies. I went and sat at a table.
I want you to picture the scene. It’s very important that you get this very clear in your mind.
Here’s the table, newspaper, cup of coffee, packet of cookies. There’s a guy sitting opposite me, perfectly ordinary-looking guy wearing a business suit, carrying a briefcase.
It didn’t look like he was going to do anything weird. What he did was this: he suddenly leaned across, picked up the packet of cookies, tore it open, took one out, and ate it.
Now this, I have to say, is the sort of thing the British are very bad at dealing with. There’s nothing in our background, upbringing, or education that teaches you how to deal with someone who in broad daylight has just stolen your cookies.
You know what would happen if this had been South Central Los Angeles. There would have very quickly been gunfire, helicopters coming in, CNN, you know… But in the end, I did what any red-blooded Englishman would do: I ignored it. And I stared at the newspaper, took a sip of coffee, tried to do a clue in the newspaper, couldn’t do anything, and thought, what am I going to do?
In the end I thought, nothing for it, I’ll just have to go for it, and I tried very hard not to notice the fact that the packet was already mysteriously opened. I took out a cookie for myself. I thought, that settled him. But it hadn’t because a moment or two later he did it again. He took another cookie.
Having not mentioned it the first time, it was somehow even harder to raise the subject the second time around. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice …” I mean, it doesn’t really work.
We went through the whole packet like this. When I say the whole packet, I mean there were only about eight cookies, but it felt like a lifetime. He took one, I took one, he took one, I took one. Finally, when we got to the end, he stood up and walked away.
Well, we exchanged meaningful looks, then he walked away, and I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back. A moment or two later the train was coming in, so I tossed back the rest of my coffee, stood up, picked up the newspaper, and underneath the newspaper were my cookies.
The thing I like particularly about this story is the sensation that somewhere in England there has been wandering around for the last quarter-century a perfectly ordinary guy who’s had the same exact story, only he doesn’t have the punch line.
This is how many children that died in their Hunger Games, without even being mentioned throughout the three books. All these children were under 18. All these children had parents. All these parents’ hearts sank to their knees during their child’s reaping. All these parents saw their terrified child off at the train station. All these parents heard the sound that signified their child’s death. All these parents received their cold, dead child in a wooden box. All these parents’ lives ended there. All these parents could say or do nothing. All these parents were merely thanked that they gave up their child. Thanked.
And the media focuses on the love triangle.
All these children and all these parents aren’t real
Yeah, sure, I guess that’s true. None of these people were real.
But let’s focus on what this series, and this fact, say about our society.
In the series, the Capitol’s media focuses entirely on the ‘fun’ of the Games- the fashion, the plot twists, the favorites, the strategies, the romance. And the entire time, they completely overlook the fact that 1,678 children between the ages of 12 and 18 have died. Usually brutally murdered by other 12 to 18 year old children.
And how does our real-life media react to this story when news of a movie adaptation reaches them? They talk about the romance. This tragic story of a girl who must choose between her long-time best friend and her new love. Even if she chooses Peeta, they still must fight to the death. The star-crossed lovers of District 12. And many readers of the original novels saw the books through the same lens. You would tell them that you read/ were reading the books and their first reaction was, “Are you Team Gale or Team Peeta?”
Meanwhile, children are fighting to the death.
The fact that our media, and many every-day people reacted to the Hunger Games the same as the Capitol media scares me.
I don’t want this world to be anything like the Capitol. I don’t think any of us do.
And the fact that most of us (including myself) never really considered how many children had died in the games also scares me. But, hey, it didn’t happen now/ in the current story, so it doesn’t matter, right?
THIs is actually the reason I thought the book was so thoughtful. western society IS the capitol.
Yes, I was pulled along by the romance as well, but I’m more complex in my desires and interests. Not only was I interested in who she may or may not choose, but I was constantly making parallels to today’s media and our current society. It was scary, and gets scarier the more I watch current events unfolding. It could happen, and it scares me.
Just look at her now though.
In the first movie, she was white as a sheet, with fake colours, hair and emotions.
She looks more natural in the second movie because Katniss and Peeta inspired her, and she felt close to them. Now that they’re being ripped away from her, she doesn’t love the Capitol enough to smile.
She’s burning with fear and anger and sorrow.
now this is what i call minor character development at it’s finest
I LITERALLY CANNOT JUST SCROLL PAST THIS POST IT’S PROBABLY THE TENTH TIME I’VE REBLOGGED IT TODAY NO JOKE
I love that the character showed so much growth!
Haha it’s pretty simple really. Our mind goes from thinking we have logic to “joiealhrngerkdjshnvlkzjhdnsf”. It kind of sneaks up on you. You get to see her, and all of a sudden you find yourself wanting to see her more, and you’re not entirely too sure why. Just something about her makes you smile. You talk to her as much as you can. Or you at least try to anyways. But to be honest sometimes you find yourself at a loss for words. It’s because she’s gorgeous; you literally lose every thought in your mind. The only words you’re thinking are “wow…this girl…” and you WANT to tell her. But you know it’s not the right time, and you’re worried you’ll just scare her off. We think that for a number of reasons…you could have been hurt in the past by a guy and we don’t want to be associated with him by a stereotype, you could not be interested in us and think we’re creepy, the usual stuff. Anyways, as you talk to her more and more and time passes by. Days. Weeks. Months. However long it takes…you find your days strange if you don’t talk to her. She’s on your mind all the time. Everything from “man I wish she was here…” to “I can’t get over how beautiful her eyes are…I see them everytime I close mine…”. Then next thing you know you’re with her, and your heart starts racing as you begin to get shaky. You don’t want her to see your hand trembling, but in front of everybody you physically flirt a little to test the waters. And if she plays back you swallow everything and lightly go to take her hand. In front of every one. Your friends are cheering you on in their heads, but you can see it in their eyes. And then you look into hers just to see if she’s just as nervous as you are…..and at that point it’s fair to say you’ve fallen for a girl. Maybe not totally gone off the ledge, fallen in love. But she’s definitely going to be almost every thought you have. And every moment you’re not with her, you’re going to wish you were. And if you’re lucky enough to reach the point where she starts taking your hand first? Good luck son. Heart will be skipping beats. Pulse will be sky rocketing. Words may even stutter. I guess what I’m getting at is, a girl is kind of like an addiction. Not in a bad way (most the time). But once one catches your attention you can never get enough of her. You want more. You want to see her more. You want to hold her more. And above all else you want her to smile more…because all of those things, they give you a rush you just can’t replace.
Fuck, reblogging for ^^^