On Reading

Sometimes I forget how much I love to read. I watch too much TV or have too much homework or drama in my life to remember how wonderful it feels to curl up with a good book and, basically, disappear for a day.

And sometimes I wander over to the other extreme where I just become obsessed. Because I will go to the National Book Festival, and finally get a Library of Congress card, and update my LibraryThing.

Guess which extreme I am at right now?

I really, really can't buy any books right now. I don't have the money. I don't have the time to read them. But I want to so. Badly. I've promised myself, however, that I must first read five of the unread books on my bookshelf. There are more than that, obviously.

I have this problem where I buy really interesting books because they were at the cutest little used bookstore and they sound all cute and literary. But, guess what, picking up something unknown is also scary. It's so easy to keep an eye out for your favorite authors or genres but starting an absolutely unknown book can be scary: what if you don't like it? What if it's stupid? What if you don't understand the fuss? No, it's better to stick to the fifth in a series or a romance novel (predictable to a fault).

Then there's this issue: I always want to talk about my books. But if I think about it too much then I think to myself "what right do I have to judge? What have I done that's comparable to getting a book published? Or, more basically, have I ever written a book?" No, is obviously the answer here. And then I feel unqualified to even talk about disliking a book: "well, it seemed a bit silly. No, I don't really know if it was the style or the syntax or the use of an obscure literary device and really, what's the difference? It just wasn't my thing."

I happen to have a minor fault from the very beginning: I don't really like "adult" books. You know, Oprah stuff. No, I like my Garth Nix and Ella Enchanted and Harry Potter. They're more fun. Adult books are pretty depressing. Seems to me someone always has to die or suffer some sort of loss to make it meaningful. No thanks--I read to escape not hear more about the real world.

Long story short: went to the national book festival. Got a poster and bag. Neil Gaiman is awesome.

Thursday's Confessional

Secrets on Thursday:

This may not be an actual secret since most of my friends would agree if you asked them: I love, love, love children’s television. This goes past just the classic Disney movies, the retro Nickelodeon that it’s cool to like: PBS kids, the Disney channel, I watch it all. And if you asked me what my absolute favorite shows are, they tend to be those for preschoolers: Arthur is AWESOME, and I don’t know if this one is still on but I loved PB&J on Playhouse Disney, and I will stop on Charlie and Lola if it’s on.

It’s not that I am incapable of watching “serious” television (although it’s still pretty silly overall): the West Wing, History Channel documentaries, all that. I just find children’s television somehow less…pretentious. I mean, okay, Spongebob is horrendous. But Arthur is hilarious. And Charlie and Lola has great voices. There’s something a little bit more genuine about these shows.

Arthur:


PB&J:


Charlie and Lola:


Oh, and this is a true secret: I LOVE the Barbie movies. They are my crappy day, comfort movies.



Alrighty, spill your Thursday secret.