Books ahoy!

Last Monday, Daniela and I went to Brisbane.
It was pretty spectacular. It was before the flooding hit, when I was forced to do an exam at the horrible hour of 8.30am. Daniela, Chris, Tata and I were up at the crack of dawn to drive to Brisbane; as a result, Daniela and I felt it only just if we were to gallivant around the city.
Which we did, with much glee.
Daniela last was in Brisbane about 3 years ago. Her parents took her to see Phantom of the Opera, and so her gallivanting was limited to a Southbank hotel and QPAC. I thought it'd be good to show her the city, even though as a city it's kinda limited to Queen St and a couple of straggly streets beyond.

With that, we started at the library.
The good thing about Daniela is she's pretty much as book crazy as me. The two of us happy-fizzle over books, and when there are gazillions of books on gazillions of levels all in the one building, it's an overload of awesome.
Daniela was particularly impressed with the Brisbane library. She's mainly grown up with the Northern Rivers' collection of libraries. All those not familiar with such libraries, I present the following:

The Battle of the Libraries

Northern Rivers vs. Brisbane

Duhn duhn duhn...

Firstly, Alstonville. Alstonville's library is located in the Leisure Centre:

Stolen, courteously, from the RTRL website.

 The Leisure Centre is primarily composed of sports facilities, however. I used to play futsal here (yes, I know. The concept of me playing sport is hilarious).

This, however, is one of the dance rooms. I attended a CWA
thingo here. Which was essentially old rural women
giving children awards for making nice posters about Belgium.

The library itself is tiny. You can't find a picture of it.

Next, Ballina, my preferred library.

Stolen from a tourism site.
I send my love.

 Ballina's a bit nicer. There's a far wider range and plenty of nommy DVDs (including the Office. Huzzah!). Still...

Finally, Lismore.

The outside of the Lismore library is truly creepy, so I'm sparing you that. It's like an old church. But haunted. And creepy. Pretty much, it epitomises Lismore. Also has the prerequisite black Gothic fence, untrimmed bushes and graffiti from the Lismore teens who, as I've mentioned previously, use flood waters to surf in.
(I mentioned this to my mother today, who I've been chatting about the floods with since she came home today. She laughed at the memories of those teens, and nodded wistfully.) Inside, the library is a muted yellow, but is combined with green in the horrific patriotic palette that Lismore seems to cling to like its that raft from Titanic.

Also, I've just remembered, Lismore is also known for having frothy water features, from those rascally Lismore teens who wake up early to sprinkle detergent in all of the roundabouts. Why roundabouts even need a jazzy waterfall, I don't know.

Anyway, back to books. Lismore's range is pretty good. 2 floors - one of fiction, one of non.

But it all pales in comparison to Brisbane. The outside:

Not the skyscraper, of course, though that would be truly fantastic. I wouldn't leave there at all. I'd become homeless and live in Redacliffe Place if that were the library. But the coloured blocks are the library. Already, the library seems more interesting.

 Inside, the beauty is just awesome. It's all glass and escalators and wooden floors. Can't really see it here, but each of the shelves has neon lights at the end - pink in the non-fiction, yellow in adult fiction, and so on. So you don't get lost! Huzzah! Lots of computers, and you check out your books yourself. Also, you put your books into the chute and the chute takes them on a conveyer belt. It's... just amazing.

And then if you're lucky enough, you can scab one of these comfy seats. (If you plan on doing so, make sure you're in the YA section. Far more seats, and you also can watch people lose at X-Box if you're lucky.)

Hence why Daniela and I are far more besotted with Brisbane Square Library.

After we went and hunted lunch, I stopped at the newsagency. There, my dear beloved readers whom I adore, I found this magazine.

Discerning Bride.

And upon flicking eagerly to the contributor's panel, I found my name.

Natasha Pavez.

I am in print.

Daniela and I squealed for a while, paid for it, then squealed all the way to Dymocks.

Daniela was also in love with Dymocks. Two storeys of pure awesome, tis Dymocks, and Daniela pretty much wanted to spend most of her day there. But I carefully nudged her to Borders. 

Borders is now her favourite place in Brisbane. You can tell we're related. 

But after seeing all these books, Daniela and I decided a challenge had to be made. 

We're reading the top 50 of Angus and Robertson's Top 100 Books of 2010, and seeing how we go.

Because I'm a pain in the butt, the list is as follows:

1. The Twilight Saga, Stephenie Meyer. This shouldn't even be called a saga, let alone make this list. Daniela and I decided that we're only going to put ourselves through the horror that is Twilight. We can't force ourselves through the other three.
2. The Harry Potter Series, JK Rowling. See?! THIS SHOULD BE NUMBER ONE. I'm not going to rant about why Harry Potter pwns Twilight (mainly because it's downright obvious) but I seethe at the Australian population. I really do. Daniela and I are going through all of these because, as Harry Potter nerds, we have to read all the books again before Deathly Hallows Part 2 comes out. And then have a movie night.
3. The Millenium Trilogy, Stieg Larsson. The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl With the Motorbike, The Girl Who Hacks Into Swedish Computers And Solves Cases About Stuff. Clearly, I've read these books. 
4. To Kill A Mockingbird, Harper Lee. Daniela is distressed, because she had to read this about 3 months ago at school. I last read it in year 8, so I'm a bit more okay with it. "But I hate Scout," Daniela said to me. "Can't we just get rid of Scout? Why doesn't Jem narrate?" All valid points.
5. The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold. Another book Daniela and I vehemently oppose - Daniela because it's plain boring, me because I can't stand her writing style. And yes, Daniela's right, it's boring.
6. Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen. Oh heck yes. 'Nuff said.
7. My Sister's Keeper, Jodi Picoult. Very happy to read this. I absolutely adore this book.
8. The Sookie Stackhouse Collection, Charlaine Harris. Essentially its vampires swanning around being smexy and sexy and all things in between, while pwning Twilight vampires because they actually drink blood. But I'm not complimenting this series. I think it's ridiculous, so I'm reading book one. Daniela's a bit more accepting, and says she will read two. 
9. The Time Traveller's Wife, Audrey Niffenegger. Aside from the whole BUT IF HE'S TIME TRAVELLING HOW HE IN TWO PLACES AT ONCE?! dilemma, it's a nice book. 
10. The Book Thief, Markus Zusak. Spear me now, but I have never been a fan of this book. I know everyone adores it and calls Zusak a genius, but my personal opinion is that it seems very rushed, and Death is not as developed as he should be. Also, Nazi Germany is beginning to become that awful place that all writers must refer to at some point (or WW2 in general), much like Australia or the English countryside was during colonial writing.
11. Lunch in Paris, Elizabeth Bard.
12. The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini. Good book. Melikes.
13. Memoirs of A Geisha, Arthur Golden. Will be good to revisit this book, it's another I haven't read in about 5 years.
14. 61 Hours, Lee Child. Not a huge fan of crime, but Lee Child used to sell like crazy at the bookstore. 
15. Dragon Haven, Robin Hobb.
16. Vampire Academy Series, Richelle Mead. Oh my gosh heck yes. I love this series. The only vampire series I really like, actually.
17. The Silent Sea, Clive Cussler. 
18. Mao's Last Dancer, Li Cunxin. I'm ashamed I haven't read this yet. 
19. The Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien. The most I know? "You have my sword." "And my bow." "And my axe." "And my vuvuzela." And, of course, THEY'RE TAKING THE HOBBITS TO ISENGARD-GARD-GARD-GARD-GARD...
20. Tuscan Rose, Belinda Alexandra.
21. The Power of One, Bryce Courtenay.
22. The Notebook, Nicholas Sparks. This is the only novel where I actually prefer the movie. Sorry, Mr Sparks Sir. 
23. The Pacific, Hugh Ambrose.
24. Ransom, David Malouf.
25. Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte. I love love love love this book. It is win in all ways. I shall be reading the copy that Lemmy gave me! 
26. Dear John, Nicholas Sparks. I do love this book too. Fantastically done.
27. Magician, Raymond E. Feist.
28. The Catcher in the Rye, JD Salinger. Haven't read this in quite some time either, so I'm looking forward to it.
29. House Rules, Jodi Picoult. My favourite of her novels. Huzzah!
30. Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte. To sum up the novel using another blogger's description: Heathcliff is a douche. All I'm going to be doing while reading this is going CURSE YOU ROMANTIC THEORY.
31. A Thousand Splendid Suns, Khaled Hosseini. I adore this book as well, and I much prefer it to the Kite Runner. 
32. Marley and Me, John Grogan. Really, I'm wondering if the hype was worth it. It is about a puppy though...
33. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: Dawn of the Dreadfuls, Steve Hockensmith. The original P&P&Z was fantastic. Eager to see this one.
34. Breath, Tim Winton. I cannot stand Tim Winton, cannot see how he is perceived as a glorious writer who deserves fame and wreaths laid at his door. In the two novels I have read of his, he has not used punctuation and is extremely sexist (not to mention boring as all heck). This is going to be painful.
35. The Bronze Horseman, Paullina Simons. The only one I enjoyed of hers - well, this trilogy, anyway.
36. Cloudstreet, Tim Winton. See #34.
37. The People's Train, Thomas Keneally.
38. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll. I wonder how it'll be reading it now - when I actually know it's a drug trip? I last read this as a kid - would've been 8 or so.
39. Truth, Peter Temple.
40. Little Women, Louisa May Alcott. Haven't read this before, either.
41. Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert. Many negative reviews about this book's message, but I don't have an opinion. Will read it and see.
42. The Host, Stephenie Meyer. Gouge my eyes out.
43. The Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown. Didn't mind this book. Pretty interesting read. Not too much substance or anything, but it's a good story nevertheless.
44. The Book of Emmett, Deborah Forster.
45. Ice Station, Matthew Reilly.
46. The Road, Cormac McCarthy. Another book to see if it lives up to the hype.
47. The Memory Keeper's Daugher, Kim Edwards.
48. Persuasion, Jane Austen. Another one I love.
49. Jessica, Bryce Courtenay.
50. Atonement, Ian McEwan. Surprised this isn't higher up the list. Then again, this is a peoples' poll. Need to buy a new copy of this...

I'm looking forward to going through this list, and having a structure. Also, I'm accountable to Daniela for the books I read. I'm also going to document two more novels (I have a book I'm putting it all in) - those being Forevermore, by Cathy Marie Hake, and Serendipity, also by CMH. V. excited to actually properly read them - I've not had much of a chance to do it as of yet, what with work and trying to get this house and groceries all sorted.

Hope you all have a lovely weekend, rife with many sleep ins and awesomesauce for all.

We begin with theft. We end with confusion.

In the true spirit of uncreativeness and theft, I present to you this:

If you're a fan of the vlogbrothers' videos on ye awesome site of win and video watching, YouTube, you'll get this reference. If I try and explain it to those who aren't Nerdfighter savvy, it won't really make sense.
Long story short, you should definitely check out their videos, because I said so and because all of Nerdfighteria said so and you don't want to get on the bad side of Nerdfighters because we will just shoot awesome rays at you and it will hurt.
Or something.
Whatever, I'm tired.

Anyway, so today I have learned many things. First of which, never tell a Chilean grandmother that you don't need her help cleaning a house. Telling her husband who erroneously believes he wears the pants in the relationship to stop her from helping is also futile.
I walked home from work today, longing for the minute I could lie on the couch with my new books (smexily waiting in my mailbox when I arrived), music blaring in my ears and draining my phone's battery steadily. Key in lock, shoulder to door to combat the swollen wood from all the rain, and a blur of pink trackpants and matching rubber gloves barrels towards me.
"Natashita! Mi ninita liiiiinnnnnda, como estas? Como esta tu trabajo?"
I stood there, one earphone still informing me that it's never gonna give me up (yes. I downloaded Rick Astley. What's your point?), gaping at Nana. "What are you doing here?"
Nana simply picked up her bottle of bleach and aimed it towards the bench. "Cleaning, nina."
"Nana, I told you it's okay. I don't need help, I can clean myself."
She sort of scoffed at me there, and smiled pityingly.
Not moments earlier, as I had trudged home along the wet grassy highway, I had phoned Dad with a plea to not let her do this. Dad told me to tell Tata. We both got a good laugh out of that one.
So instead, it was up to me to follow Nana around the house urging her that I could actually clean.
Nana replied with telling me that she had cleaned the majority of rooms in my home and while she had only cleaned the bathrooms with a 'manito de gato' (which is a term my grandfather introduced me to, meaning to clean as lightly as possible in order to mimic a cat, but to present the appearance of being clean so as to appease higher persons in the relationship, such as parents or scarily powerful wives), I could finish it off.
In confusion, I went and stared at my dogs for a while, who stared back with equal confusion because Nana - who they're sort of familiar with - had technically broken in, and no amount of barking would make her leave.
When I returned inside, Nana was scrubbing the rust off a cutlery holder that has been rusted for as long as I can remember. "Nina, you should clean this," she said. "If your mama won't, you need to."
My nana and my mother do not get along. My nana believes my mother to be incompetent at parenting and Australian. The latter is true but no grounds for Nana's feelings towards my mother. My mother believes my nana is meddling and elitist. She has rather good points here, but Nana's also quite lovely in other ways.
I stood there, mentally figuring out how to tell Nana that I was tired and needed to be left alone, when Nana propped a now gleaming cutlery holder up on the bench and asked me to phone Tata.
"I'm finished," she said.
"I'm going to mop," I said, excited.
"Ah! We can get Tata to help you."
I blinked at her. "Nana, I mop every morning at work. I know how to mop."
She patted my shoulder. "I know, mi vida, but you can always learn."
I phoned Tata.
"You found your Nana." No questions.
"She wants you to come pick her up, because she's finished cleaning."
"Well, I'll come soon." Tata sounded apologetic. Maybe because that morning - and the morning before - I'd texted him to tell him Nana needn't come over and followed that with strict instructions to tell her.
We bid each other adieu.

Later that evening, I went to Nana's for dinner. Nana had followed me around the house as I searched for my towel, telling me that my cousin missed me tremendously. I adore Daniela, I really do.
Her sisters... well.
Let's just say I much prefer Daniela.
So to talk to Daniela, I went there for dinner.
Lesson number 2 came:
Don't tell uncles anything, especially information about prior crushes that really should be forgotten.
Yesterday - or was it Monday? - I found out I got into UNE's Bachelor of Communications course, which I'll study via Distance Ed. So when I bounced over to Uncle today to tell him the grand news, he eyed me suspiciously.
"UNE... in Melbourne?"
"UNE in Armidale. Via distance."
"Oh. I know someone who's studying at UNE."
"Susan studied there," I said, mentioning his cousin.
He waved that away. "You know who I mean."
I didn't, not until he widened his eyes at me significantly and nodded with a grin.
"You're out of your mind," I said, stalking off.
At dinner, Uncle repeatedly said in the same contemplative tone, "So... UNE, eh?" coupled with significant eyes. I chose to ignore him until he shouted my name.
"Why'd you choose it?"
"It's more related to what I want to do, and either way I had to study off campus even if I chose Monash. I went with the course I wanted."
He sniggered at this. "Yeah, sure. So when are you going to London?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I want to do a bit of time at the Sunshine Coast, then go to India and do a missions trip if I can - "
"India?"
I nodded.
"Oh. I get it." Significant eyes beamed in my direction. "You want to go to Africa, too?"
I looked at my aunt, who sat next to me, blankly. She rolled her eyes. "He's trying to suggest -"
Daniela and I both shouted, "OH MY GOSH."
And with that we fled.

Lesson number three, don't feed dogs chorizo.
Actually, don't feed dogs lentejas con chorizo.
Inca and Tuscany were fed my leftovers tonight, much to their delight. Unfortunately, this caused Tuscany to run crazily around the yard, barking occasionally and then attacking Inca. Inca soon realised this was a fun game, and mimicked her.
I went outside to see what drugs the two had taken, and was immediately tackled by two muddy Golden Retrievers (currently, a fetching shade of volcanic-rock-dirt red). I ran back inside in fear, and was lying on the lounge when suddenly I heard the screen door slam.
Instant thought?
There's a murderer come to get me.... FLEE.
But no! The creepily smiling faces of aforementioned muddy Retrievers came into view, and Tuscany decided this was prime time to try lying on top of me.
These dogs are not allowed inside. They are way, way too clever. I pushed Tuscany off me and this only prompted the two of them to start skidding around on the tiled floor all around the house, making all levels of noise.
When I finally got Inca close enough to the door, Tuscany accidentally tripped out of it and Inca followed in disgust.

Final thing I've learned, Book Depository is awesome. I now have two new books, courtesy of the Kidface Christopher - both by Cathy Marie Hake, from the Only In Gooding! series.
If you're a fan of Christian historical romances, try these out. Okay, only me on this blog who likes them?
Well... so's your face.
So these two complete the collection - started by That Certain Spark (#4 in the series), continued by purchasing Fancy Pants (#1), then came the wonders of Book Depository with Whirlwind (#3) and finally these two, Serendipity (#5) and Forevermore (#2).
I tells ya, these be epic.

Now I'm off to bed with an extremely random post. Wooworktomorrowbooktofinisharghbamboom.