Confusion, Zombies, Life

I highly recommend this book.

I really don't want to write much about it, to be honest. I really, really liked it. It was entertaining, compelling, nerve-wracking, humorous, and sad. I think especially for me, it was a bit sad to read. The main character reminds me very much of someone I know who I unfortunately cannot have in my life for self-preservation reasons. This is not really the point I am trying to make; I guess I just wanted to point out why it was a bit compelling for me and intriguing I guess. Can you tell I feel a bit confused about it?
Personal drama aside, it is making me think about this situation...do you ever find a character who so reminds you of someone you know that you feel like you are getting some insight into who the real person in your life actually is? It's funny. In my case, this person cannot be more of an enigma to me. I felt while I was reading this character that I was learning more about my person. But I wonder if that is true. I wonder if this character really is like him, or if it's just that I'm at such a loss for clues as to why he (my person) behaves the way he does/what his issues are that I'm grasping at straws here. I found some similarities so I am comparing and projecting the whole character.
Or maybe you find a character that reminds you of yourself or who you want to be. I haven't found one yet to model myself on. I quite like myself. I rather think characters should be modeled on me. Two of my best friends are always telling me to write my memoirs...
Anyway, this post seems more like a journal entry, but as with all the other posts on this book blog, it's all about how the books make me feel:)

Words from the wise...

That awkward moment when you're at a new library and you have no idea where Anything is so you kinda just walk around in circles...


from my cousin Cali on facebook. I lol'ed, which is a rare occurrence for me.:P

Some Solid Stories

Feeling a bit melancholy (actually heartbroken and devastated) I needed some retail therapy. Buying things to make me feel better. Convincing myself that I am worthy of good things in life. Blah, blah, blah...enough moping... My point is that during my retail therapy, I decided to BUY BOOKS!!!! I spent ages in the book store, trying to decide what books I want, what would cheer me up. I haven’t bought books in a long time, especially new books. Even though I love owning books and want to have a huge, huge library, buying new books lately has been more dream than reality. I just haven’t had the expendable income. Now I have at least a little bit of extra cash, and –  being on the verge of a meltdown –  I felt it was time to spend, spend, spend on books! So I decided to get what I wanted. I ended up with four choices and got all of them!

One of the books I got I had never heard of before. I was somehow drawn to it. As I was turning a corner I saw it on a shelf – a row of them waiting to be bought. I picked it up and looked at its description. The book seemed as melancholy as I felt so I bought it.

I thought, if I don’t like it, then that would be a lesson for me – sometimes (as I heartbreakingly found out recently) things don’t always turn out the way you want or expect them to, but you can always learn something from the experience. (Fiction books teach lessons sometimes, although I usually just appreciate them for the way they make me feel and try to ignore/disregard the critical views that ruin them for would be fans.)

I also thought, if I do like it, well, at least something good came from the entire experience.

As it turns out, I found myself bored with the book within the first chapter. Although I’m not keen on the author’s writing style, I think the book could be good. But I think it was partially me and my state of mind – I actually did not want to continue my melancholy. I wanted to feel good and move on.

I didn’t move on completely... Just as it always is for me when dealing with heartbreak, I just couldn’t let go yet. So I continued reading the book I had been reading up til then – Nine Stories. Now this was the kind of melancholy reading I needed. Something untouchably sad and heartbreaking in its everyday depression and disappointment. This one line sums 'it' all up for me, “The fact is always obvious much too late, but the most singular difference between happiness and joy is that happiness is a solid and joy a liquid.” I think I need to strive for more solids in my life.