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OK, THIS is why I hate making a promise to blog every week. Because you get to these days where you know you don't have anything to say but nothing, and you have to post anyway.
I was going to write a book review, because those are faily straightforward but the only book I've read lately is Half the Sky - which is a good book, and I do recommend it, but non-fiction book reviews are something I'd rather stay away from (at least in public). Especially when the book is on a topic as complex as what Half the Sky was on (international development and women, in case you were wondering).
Then I thought I could talk about the latest thing I'm interested in (like I did when I talked about the Lizzie Bennet Diaries two weeks ago), but the only thing I could think of was that I watched Newsies on Saturday night with some friends and fell in love with it again. But really the most I can say about that is that it's awesome, and that every song and dance is absolutely amaziinggg.
Or I could talk about how today for some reason I was thinking of how I went to see The Hunger Games in theatres with my best friend a total of three times, which when you say out loud to people sounds really weird and then you kind of feel embarassed. Especially since you're working in a Christian school and a lot of people with a Christian background struggle with seeing past the violence in that book to see the big picture (lots of people have problems with this kind of not-seeing-the-big-picture thing, by the way, not just Christians).
But I love The Hunger Games anyway. However, because of all the different opinions and views and the popularity of THG, I find myself quite often wishing that I was the only one who knew about it and could love it in secrecy and peace, as opposed to having to feel like I have to defend my love for it all the time, or explain that I am not just reading them for the so-called love triangle that everyone else seems to be hooked on.
Books can go the other way, too. For example, I adore the book Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta. So often I wish more people I knew had read this book and fallen in love with it. Unfortunately most people have different tastes, and there is almost nothing more heartbreaking than wanting someone to fall in love with a book so you can love it together, and have them come back just to have them shrug their shoulders at you.
Well. Obviously I have nothing to say today. ;)
So, what books have you fallen in love with that you want to share with the world? What popular books do you wish you could keep all to yourself?
Yesterday I started reading a book. Threeish hours later, I finished the book - and it was amazing. It was one of those books that opens you up to the world, gives you a fresh persepective on life and puts into words things that you knew but could never quite describe on your own.
I felt like dancing around singing "I love books. I LOVE books." And I really do. They are so powerful, both in fiction and non-fiction form.
Anyway, today I was thinking of how much influence books have had on my life, ever since I was really young. Before I went into kindergarten, I knew how to read. I also loved to write and use my imagination. I'm sure a big part of the development of my imagination came from reading books. Yes, my imagination has gone running off on its own sometimes, but sometimes it's helped me.
A few months ago I was going through some old school stuff and found a bunch of random notebooks from grade 6. Grade 6 was the year where at first I had no friends, and then slowly I became best friends with this one girl, and then others. Anyway, this one girl and I spent our lunch hours... playing pretend. We made up an entire kingdom, and we were the Princesses Emerald and Topaz, based off our birthstones. We had an entire world, I tell you. The notebooks I found had notes outlining this world.
Another game of pretend that we played was during the winter. Snowplows would come during the winter and clear off the snow from the school grounds, and then huge piles of snow would be piled up on the school field. My friend and I used the huge piles of snow and made a fort for ourselves.
That was another thing I found in the notebooks. Apparently, some guys were bugging us and destroying our fort or something. In my notebook were nicknames for these guys and plans for "missions" that would thwart their bullying.
Yeah... I was a strange kid.
Anyway, as I was looking over this notebook, it made me wonder. At the time, it was all just fun and that was how I spent my free time at school. I never considered myself a victim of bullying, and I wasn't bothered by it. Yet as I was looking through these notebooks, I thought that maybe that was how I dealt with these bullies, though subconsciously. I made up things, and used my imagination to deal with them. It's a very curious thing, and it kind of makes me want to go back and psychoanalyze my 12-year-old self.
Even after middle school, my imagination and my writing and reading helped me. In grade 10, I wrote a lot of poems (well, a lot of poems for me) that helped me express things. And I still haven't stopped using imagination, writing and reading to help me. I am beyond grateful for all of these things.
So, I want to know. How has writing and/or reading and/or your imagination helped you throughout your life??
Oh, and I'm 18 now (as of May 3). That is why my thoughts have all of a sudden turned wistful and philosophical. (Haha). :D Have a great day, everyone!
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