Books

I recently found out that my book collection was donated to the library. I was devastated, I broke down and started weeping, I felt as if though someone had just punched me in the stomach. My books have formed me in ways that even I can't understand. I have learned so much about life, about myself from books as insignificant as mystery novels. My books were such a part of me that I feel empty without them. I don't know how to react, all I can do is feel guilty for leaving them when I moved, why didn't I take them? Why didn't I go back for them? I start getting all panicky if I think about it for too long. The only way I can let go of them is by acknowledging their effect on my life and knowing that even though I don't have them with me that I learned so much from them and I will forever remember their lessons. I am eternally grateful to them because they were my companions through very hard times. I can only hope that someone is enjoying them as much as I did.

Blogging about blogging

One of my favorite pastimes is to read other people's blogs, but more specifically I like to read their first blog entries. I like to read their awkward first attempts at this whole blogging deal and how they eventually find their rhythm and more importantly they find their voice. I like the way people try different styles of writing before finding their own. It is fascinating to read the different stages of their lives chronicled before me. They make me understand and be more open minded than before I read their blog. Some of my favorite blogs that I read have nothing in common with me. Some are married older women with children, yet I identify to their need to tell a story, or express their inner thoughts to the online abyss that is blogging. While reading their blogs I wonder if I will do this gig for years to come the way they did. I wonder if my life will help someone through the day or if my experiences will help someone be more open and accepting. I don't know the answers yet, but I hope to find out.

The truth about me

The truth is I'd rather read than go to a club, and to be more frank I love to stay in on Friday nights but will beat myself over this.
I tend to question my every action for years, playing my own devil's advocate.
I am ridiculously stubborn.
I don't care about a stranger's opinion but am overly sensitive over the critiques of people I love.
I am nostalgic.
I believe in happily ever after.
I believe that if i work hard enough at something I will succeed.
I have awful handwriting that I am always trying to improve.
I want braces.
I have perfect vision yet I have always wanted glasses.
I am 5 foot six and a half but I always round up to 5 foot seven.
I love cold rainy nights and hot summer days.
I want a horse.
I am terrified of worms.
I have two tattoos and want more.
I think I am pretty sexy.
I wish I was sexier.
I hate my hair
I love my shoulders and neck.
I run because I think my legs are too thin and I need to feel that they are strong.
I miss New York so much it hurts.
I can fall into deep depressions and no one would know.
I write poems.
I think my poems are really good.
I can be very understanding and always try to be a good listener and conveyor of good advice.
I cry when I am happy, angry, or sad.
I hate judging
I judge a lot.
Well those are some of my truths, some are silly like the I want a horse thing, others are deeper more meaningful facts I don't usually divulge, but for some reason I feel like sharing today.