1984

I guess this is a good time to talk about 1984. I'm not quite in the zone like I was on Friday during English, but I'll still give it a go. On Friday, I realized that I actually like 1984 a lot more than I thought I did. My reason? Discussion. That's it. Discussing the book made me like it more. It's not so much the book itself that I enjoyed, but the message of the book and what the author wanted to say. It might be wrong of me to add this, but the only part of the book I loved was the torture and questioning. That's when I started thinking more in depth.

This is, in my opinion, one of those books that can screw you over really badly. It's scary how many similarities can be found between the book and life today. I don't like that. It bothers me. What if everything I know is a lie? Where is the past but in our own minds? There is no evidence of the past besides documentation, in the form of writing or pictures, and memory. And when documentation is gone, it becomes my memory against another person's. But memory can be altered as well, memory can be tampered with. How can I know anything for sure then?

Mrs. Adams-Legge (my English teacher) said that the book is supposed to make us think. It's supposed to make us question things. I mean, for all I know, 2+2 could equal 5. But maybe I'm thinking too much and just being dramatic. Who knows?