I have acquired a new found interest in reading again. When I start reading a book, I tend to not be able to put it down. I just finished reading the novel Trauma by Patrick Mcgrath. I happened upon it by chance; I had gone to Borders to pick up a cookbook by Tyler Florence, and a poetry book by Mary Oliver and was killing time before I met up with Mel. I was walking by a wall of suggested books and I picked up two additional ones (Trauma, as well as my next endeavor, Whatever Makes You Happy by William Sutcliffe. I thumbed through both of them before buying them, and I liked how the authors wrote. I also realized how long it's been since I had read a good fiction novel, which probably also pushed me to buy them.
The story was really good! Very interesting. I could not put it down and finished it in three days. The story is about a man dealing with his issues and how they had affected his life. There were times where I got so into the story, into the words, that my eyes would open wide while I was reading and I'd feel as through I was soaking in every letter in every word on the printed page.
I swear, I psychoanalyze everything in my life, and I thoroughly enjoyed this book, as it described in great detail excellent examples of how people deal with their problems and how they try to justify, mediate, solve, and tolerate. The main character is a mess of thoughts, emotions, and justifications, and it's easy to lose yourself in his story of attemps to balance between numb indifference and trying to find what he wants.
In related thoughts,
I enjoy doing things that push me to think. Especially in my current perspective on life. I no longer do things to keep me busy, but to pull as much as I can out of the experience. Thinking leads to learning which leads to changing/growing. On the other hand, I think too much as it is, and as Chris Rock put it, "If ignorance is bliss, then what's the opposite? Knowing everything at once. That's hell.". However, I will say that I think in the past, especially on this blog, I would attempt to use this online medium as a way to convince myself of behavioral/personality growth. I don't feel that way anymore. I think the difference is I believe what I write before I type it out rather than the other way around.
I am always impressed at the length's to which we humans go to make ourselves feel some kind of worth -- but not even that. But are these events truly worth-giving, or just distractions? I don't know.
I find it ironic that there is not one person alive who is not suffering as a result of their issues/problems, and yet none of us listen to one another, and none of us can understand/relate each other. This is not a pessimistic opinion. It's a objective fact.
Reading is good. Stay in school kids.
And finally, seriously, is there anything as good as jello? Seriously? I doubt it.
Another boring week begins.
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