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| i fully believe that a good book can change your life. enough so that after finishing a re-read by two of my favorite authors, i re-boot my computer to record this thought.
a good author, in my opinion, is one who makes you laugh, care for the characters, and causes you to completely engross yourself in their tale, so when you do have to come up for air, it takes a minute to revert back to reality. a good author is quotable, engaging, leaves you thinking over what they've written while hungry for more. a good author can be a source of inspiration, distraction, entertainment, and enjoyment. they paint a picture that you can see as clear as day. their characters are familiar, as we see pieces of ourselves and others within them.
i've always been a reader. i used to stack books in my desk in elementary school and would get in trouble when i got caught reading during class. i would read while walking home from school. i would keep a book under my pillow and it would be the last thing i did at night and the first thing i did in the morning. the seat on the couch next to the lamp was the most sought-after on nights home, as it had the best light. basically, growing up, i was a complete and utter book worm.
after moving nearly a year and a half ago, reading became an even deeper outlet for me. having spent many of what used to be my reading hours in earlier life having a social life in college, i found myself in a new city where i had no means of social outlet and found myself terribly homesick for the butterfly flitting i had grown so accustomed to. adjusting to a new city and missing my friends terribly, i turned to reading once more, this time certain that every word, sentence, paragraph, had to have some sort of deeper meaning, some words of comfort, some sort of solution to my solace (never pass up an opportunity for good alliteration), a temporary distraction from what i discovered are overwhelmingly cold winters on the upper east coast.
emily giffin changed my life. i now own all of her books and am eagerly anticipating the next release. megan crane kept me riveted on every page. sophie kinsella touched my heart with 'twenties girl'. i enjoyed lauren conrad's freshmen novel of 'la candy'. jodi picoult shared more than a few tearjerkers. sarah dessen is always a crowd pleaser. julie buxbaum made me miss my best friend terribly.
but the one book that spoke to me above all the others, was emma mclaughlin and nicola kraus' 'dedication'... it broke my heart, it was written to me, it spoke to me, it spoke for me. i felt every emotion, saw every situation, laughed and cried and shook my fist at heartache that was going through my body at the time (really, still...). in the past year, i have read it probably 4 times. and every time, it instantly brings me back to the first time i was drinking it in, running down battery after battery in my flashlight backstage during a christmas variety show, a week before going home for the first time since moving and days after a falling out that broke my spirits and caused irreparable damages to a relationship that will never fulfill what i want it to in my heart.
there are so many people out there who 'don't like reading' or 'don't have time for reading' or refuse to read certain books because they are 'in' right now. these are all people that i don't understand. to 'not like reading' simply means you have never tried to read outside of some school-required reading. of course you're not going to be raving about it if it's homework. to not have time for reading? please. i went through college with maximum credit hours each semester and three jobs, various outside activities and a thriving social life, and i was still able to regularly pick up a book before bed and swim through a few chapters. oh my god, everyone's reading harry potter and twilight, that's so lame? get over yourself and recognize what it is in these books that people are so addicted to. while robert pattinson and taylor lautner didn't hurt stephanie meyer's selling numbers by any means, i read them before there was even talk of a movie and 'twilight' didn't make it 24 hours before i had taken it in, cover to cover. harry potter, i was in high school, i thought it was some lame book about wizards ("i hate science fiction"), but grounded again by my at-the-time extremely strict parents over being tardy to class or some sort of minor misdemeanor and without any other literary alternatives in sight, i picked up my brother's copy of 'harry potter' and was hooked- i read the first four within a week. if you believe or agree with any of the three statements in the first sentence, you simply haven't tried. i'm sure i'm preaching to the choir as anyone who makes it this far in this far-forgotten blog is certainly a reader.
thank you for humoring me. and never, ever underestimate the power of a good book. | | |
| i'm happy that you're happy. really. i miss you, but i can't begrudge you happiness. what to do, what to do, what to do... that always seems to be the question... i love them, but maybe they're who and what stress me out. we have no other drama to thrive off of, so perhaps we thrive off of the drama of stress? again, awake at nearly 4 in the morning. would love to be able to sleep the same hours as other people. but instead, here i sit, wide awake. i don't even go to the gym or do anything productive, in the thought that if i do, it will keep me awake, whereas by doing nothing, i might sleep... neither seems to do the trick... maybe i'll try to sleep... or read... or neither, i don't know... | | |
| going home for christmas and new year's in less than three weeks. as the date steadily approaches, my myriad of emotions build and build, growing into new dimensions as reflection and anticipation become almost constantly the main sources of entertainment in my imagination. nervous about how things were left in may, in october. both situations that i hope just smooth over without revisiting the past of what happened. or didn't happen. without justification or explanation, just an ability on the shoulders of all parties to just move on. then there's april...
a year ago, you saw me. you, with your windows rolled up tight, drove by, saw me walking, laughing, talking, joking. you stopped, you stared. you did nothing. you missed me, but you let me go. i still can't decide if knowing you care, just not enough, makes it better or worse.
then there's the last time i saw you. an ultimatum of sorts. you know how they say 'there's a moment, there's always a moment'? looking back, that might have been it. that, rolled into our less than stellar goodbye (not the first of our less than stellar goodbyes, at that), rolled into the ups and downs (always ups and downs) of what was one of the best and worst nights- a night i replay and still can't understand what went wrong, where it turned, why it changed. how it turned us into people who don't know each other. i don't know you. i don't know what you drink in your coffee. i don't know what you like to eat. ever. not one favorite food or drink or anything comes to mind. i don't know if you sing in the shower, follow any sports, if you go to the movies. how can you know a person for what feels like forever and not know those things?
in some sort of sick twist, i'm listening to john mayer's battle studies album. he speaks just to me. maybe perfectly, disturbingly fitting to this situation. i love falling asleep to this album. i put it on, start reading, and relax. except for now, when i need to get out whatever this is that i'm feeling.
the idea of not seeing you? how does that make the entire trip hollow? i mean, i will still be ecstatic to be home, to see my parents, my brother, my very best friends who have seen me through nearly every stage of my life. but without you, it's like a piece of me is missing, of my trip, my life, my whole, is missing.
which, if that was the moment, then that moment has brought me so far. along with all the other things that have happened in the last eight months, eight months that have been no small feat, i sit here, at 4 in the morning, a different person then the girl who was saying goodbye to you that morning. i fell apart and am still recovering. i was going through terror like none i had ever known, yet had made myself as perfect as i could for you, and it wasn't enough. so i fell. like alice in the rabbit hole.
to say i'm not interested in impressing you would be a lie. but i want you to see the newest version of me. see if you can read me as easily as you always have before. i want to see the latest you. pray that maybe i'll see you and love you a little less. be unimpressed, underwhelmed with who you've become. to see you and not have my heart stop, gasp for breath, pulse then go into quadrupole time; for my need to be close to you, an actual physical need, to just evaporate...
i've never been one of those people who could be indifferent or even understood how indifference was possible. indifference is the opposite of love and i have always thought myself to be full to the brink of love. but maybe, just in this one situation, the ability to finally, finally feel indifferent wouldn't be such a bad thing.
i'm torn between thinking that writing about these things helps and thinking that they exemplify them to become more intense feelings. the nights i go without writing of them, the next morning i wake up in only shallow puddles of the emotions i had the night before. writing of it allows for reflection of what i wrote and the ability to go back and re-read and re-live said emotions.
is there anything in life that is a simple black and white? | | |
| can't sleep.
was looking at old photos. my hair is chin length now, any picture from the past year or further looks like a lifetime ago... i look like a different person. i feel like a different person. i'll be curious to go home and see who can't recognize me, who'll be stunned, who will hate it, who will love it, who will go 'something's different about you...'...
you disappeared. i can't say i'm surprised, you've done it before, it's like your thing. i know what it means, and if you're happy, then great. i miss you, but for the time being, i can live without you. i don't physically need you. you hadn't been in my thoughts in weeks (or probably maybe just days), then i thought of you yesterday... there was a moment, like ones i used to have far more frequently for longer periods of time before, where my lungs constricted, i couldn't breathe, there was a whole in my heart that expanded through my body, like a giant bullet hole, you gone made me hallow. clutch the counter, let the moment pass... it will pass. tears will dry, breathing will resume, life will go on.
ready for the cheesiest part of that whole cliche? that feeling and thought? brought on by seeing 'new moon'. by scawffing at bella for her servitude to edward. like, please, bitch, get over it. have a backbone. don't let this guy control you. then i thought 'do i have an edward? do i have a jacob?' yeup. wtf. welcome to my world.
people laugh at me for still having a xanga. i don't understand- a blogging community where everyone was on it. nowadays, there's one person on this site, one person on that site. at one point, eeeeveryone was on xanga. it was easy. i can't figure out how the hell to follow anyone on these random other newer sites. and i don't want to blog myself into exhaustion trying to keep up with twenty different sites. i'm happy with xanga, twitter, facebook, raaaarely myspace (hey, they still have bands). i check my e-mail, but i think my brother got rid of my aim, and i'm fine with that, fb chat is suitable, or texting, a phone call, heck, skype. 'he's just not that into you' is right with their pointing out with how many ridiculous extraneous communication devices we have these days. so, for now, i'm happy with my lot.
miss you. kiss you. love you.
what are you thankful for? | | |
| if i don't know you, but i want to, i'm really awkward. this makes for awkward meetings when you are also awkward... sorry. once you get to know me, the awkwardness fades, generally, and instead becomes endearing... right? the power of suggestion does wonders... blush blush blush. reality... catch up to my imagination. stay tuned to what will hopefully... turn into something worth reporting... | | |
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