Quintessentially Nutty For Novels

Tags

Books, Bookstores, Classic Novels, Novels, Ryan Gosling, Shoes

About once a month I do this thing with myself. Not that i’m schizophrenic or anything, but it’s kind of like there are these two sides to my personality. I’m sure i’ve said this before, and so i’m sure this is not news to you, however, hear me out, I do have a point. One side of me is really, really, ridiculously rational and logical and freakishly and anally strict with myself. I am the quintessential perfectionist. And then there is this other side of me that is all emotion. It runs on complete and total instinct and raw, uncooked, unpasteurized, feelings of the moment. Sometimes it just feels so good to give the logical side of my personality a condescending smile that suggests “Yes, uh-uh, i’m totally going to do the safe, logical, some may say, boring thing.” And then go head first into illogic.

That rant kind of got away from me.

My point in my relating this is that this is the very thing that happens to me with one of my obsessions in life…books. You may be asking yourself: “How could this possibly relate,” and “How on earth was that sociopathic rant remotely relevant to the best thing tree’s gave us since oxygen?” My answer: “It doesn’t.” No, actually, it does, but on a much lesser scale I should probably add.

I am a book addict. Sometimes (most of the time) I buy books, not because I am wholeheartedly interesting in the content matter of said books, but more so because they are something good to have in my collection and perhaps one day in the future I will somehow derive enjoyment from the depths of despair that they will inevitably put me in within reading the first three paragraphs.

More often than not, however, these books just end up sitting on my bookshelf (or my floor considering I have drastically outgrown my bookshelf) looking sad, sullen, and lonely, much the way that I will undoubtedly look after I finish reading them at some unknown date in the not too far, yet not too near, future.

So, there’s a point in here somewhere. Ah, yes, every so often I make this empty promise with myself that I am going to cease from purchasing any new books until I have read most (if not all) of the books in my current collection.

What (inevitably) breaks this noble promise of mine, you ask? Used Book Stores. A.K.A My Kryptonite. If I see a vintage classic novel for only two bucks, there are few powers in the known Universe that can stop me from purchasing it. There is just something to utterly enticing and intoxicating about it. Something so very indescribable. Sure to some of you “Books make my head hurt” types this concept is, i’m sure, entirely outside of your realm of comprehension. And, in fact, I envy you because you are better off the way you are.

I guess there are worse things out there that could be captivating enough for me to throw all of my logic and reasoning out of the windows for. Certainly the consequences for my ever increasing book collection aren’t so serious. Just a lack of square-footage and walking space in my ever-shrinking bedroom. But it could be worse, it could always be worse.

Some girls go weak in the knee’s over shoes or, I dunno, Ryan Gosling. I, however, am not your average girl. I go nutty for Novels.

 

 

Non-Vexatious (Petrichor and) Soup

Tags

bad days, Books, dullness, Films, good days, Jane Austen, Movies, Petrichor, Rain, Soup

What is it about rainy days that makes it impossible for them to be just…okay? For me, anyway, rainy days are completely incapable of being ordinary. I cannot remember a time in my life where I had an “average” rainy day.

There is just something about petrichor that inspires me to: make some progress in writing my seemingly unending “novel”, to immerse myself mind and soul into the life of my favourite Jane Austen heroine, to accomplish the intimidating task of organizing my bookcase (and also the books that don’t fit in my book case that reside piled *neatly* on my floor). This same smell that compels me to sit on my couch wholly enwrapped in a blanket, eating popcorn, watching a romantic movie that makes me believe for that hour and ninety minutes that I am as madly in love and incandescently happy as the character in the film.

Not to mention, arguably, my hands down, absolute, concrete, favourite thing about rainy days…ever! SOUP! Honestly, I cannot respect a person that doesn’t see just how amazing soup is. I mean, I think that soup just doesn’t get the credit it truly deserves. Its yummy deliciousness that with every bite and subsequent swallow feels warm all the way down. And somehow it seems that it is not merely your esophagus and stomach that it is warming but in some way it is actually warming your very soul. No one can be vexed while eating soup.

While I as of yet have listed my favourite things that happen on some of my favourite rainy days, I certainly don’t mean to imply that all rainy days are amazing. Although, I wholly wish they could be. Rainy days do have the potential to be some of the darkest, dreariest days ever. Literally, but more to the point of what I am referring to…figuratively. I can’t recall that I have ever had such a bad day as one that was had in which it rained.

Usually it isn’t so much the actual rain and wetness that produce the badness of rainy days as it is the darkness and dullness of the weather. Rain and rain clouds seem to set a mood and atmosphere to our lives that if not handled extremely delicately can impress upon us a feeling of total and complete depression. Never have I felt that my lot in life was more hopeless than on a day that it rained. Grey dreariness described not only the image in the sky but also the image upon my heart. (too much?)

All in all though, I love rainy days. If you think about it, most days in our lives are passed by never to be thought about ever again. Not one single moment in the entire 24 hours was memorable enough to imprint any sort of impression in the memory centers of our brains. And yet, rainy days are the exception to this rule. You know, that no matter what, there is going to be something about this day that you remember. Possibly it could be a bad memory, but also it could be a really great day that you remember always with fondness. Personally, I’d rather have a day that I know has the possibility of being amazing, even if the alternative is that it could possibly be terrible, rather than a day that is doomed to dullness from the start; never to be remembered again.

❤ CAT

I Dream of Goals

Tags

Cleopatra, Dreams, future, goals, imagination, limitless, past, pirates, President Lincoln, SpongeBob, time travel

As you are probably abundantly aware, I strongly value goals and dreams. I guess it is commonly thought that these things are pretty much synonymous with each other. But my feelings on the subject differ. In my humble opinion, Dreams and Goals are yes, similar, but at the very same time they are completely different.

Dreams to me are things that have no limits and no bounds. They do not have to abide by the physical laws of our reality. They cannot be stifled by any rules and they don’t have to follow any guidelines. They can be as far-fetched or as realistic as you wish, and no one can tell you any different because it’s your mind and it’s your imagination and it’s your…dream.

You can dream of flying to the moon on a camels back. You can dream of swimming in an enormous bowl of chocolate pudding. You can dream of going back in time and hanging out with President Lincoln, or better yet, hanging out with Cleopatra. Anything is possible with dreams. You can dream of anything and no one can stop you, that’s the most amazing thing about dreams. The only thing that could possibly limit them is your own imagination, and if your imagination is very extensive, then they are really, truly, limitless.

Goals. I think that the only thing that separates goals from dreams is that goals can be limited, and from my experience, they always are limited. Perhaps by our own insecurities; thinking that we couldn’t actually tangibly accomplish something that we would like to. They are limited by the laws of our physical universe, the laws of our society, they are limited by social customs, and mostly it seems they are limited by events and circumstances beyond our control entirely.

This is perhaps, why I like dreams so much more than goals. If you tell someone you dream of being a pirate they will chuckle and maybe think that you are weird, but usually you will just get an uncertain: “Pirate’s are cool,” from them. Now on the other hand if you tell someone that it is your goal to be a pirate…well I don’t think that would go over very well at all and, most probably, would incite people to question your sanity.

Goals, for me anyway, seem to more often end in disappointment. Because when you decide that it is your goal to do something, you’ve set your heart on it and you have set your mind on the determination of actually accomplishing that thing. So if you fail to attain to it, it’s truly disappointing because you had so many things, and so much of yourself riding upon realization of it. Dreams, though, are different. They are just crazy notions that exist entirely within your imagination. They are a place that you reside when the world just gets too rough to handle. They are your little secret. They are your place of comfort. Dreams, unlike goals, are merely projected into your mind, but their actual residence is in your heart.

Dreams are just amazing things that would be even more amazing if they actually happened but you don’t set your heart on them actually getting accomplished too much, because you know that even if they don’t (and chances are they won’t) come true, you can always go there inside your mind and heart whenever you close your eyes, whenever you have a minute alone, whenever you need a break. And if, by some crazy happenstance, you actually do tangibly accomplish one of your (albeit, more realistic) dreams, then that is just the icing on top of the imaginary cake. It just makes the dream that much better. And in the future you have a greater point of reference when you decide to take the journey back there in your mind.

I know I love dreams more than goals, but I do completely recognize that both are intrinsically necessary for human existence. If we were all solely dreamer’s and never had any realistic goals, there probably wouldn’t be very many successful people in the world. I guess the point is just to find the balance between your dreams and goals. But make sure that you know which the thing you want to accomplish is: a crazy Dream or a realistic Goal.

Always,

CAT