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Over the Moon and Sun

~ Following whichever path I like, beaten or not.

Over the Moon and Sun

Daily Archives: June 10, 2012

A Pure 48!

10 Sunday Jun 2012

Posted by Muttix in Books/Reading/Libraries

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

48 hour book challenge, reading challenge

When I started writing the last post, it was with the intention of updating. Not rambling. Wow. And that is exactly why I should follow my instincts when I think I’m too far gone to blog. Anywho…

Finished: (7 physical, 1 audio) Die For Me, Wither, Fever, Skinwalker, The Immortal Highlander (audio book), Not a Genuine Black Man, Stolen Into Slavery, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

Unfinished: (3) Briar Rose, Can’t Stop Won’t Stop, Witches of East End

Total time spent reading/blogging/socializing: 48 hours!!! Roughly 8 hours of that spent on social. My actual social time is less than that, as I’d start to blog, get frustrated, go read, then remember I didn’t mark the time so just started marking it off when I looked up. But as that’s what I’ve got down, I’m going with it.

Pages read:  1879 (counting pages read in unfinished books)

Time spent NOT reading/blogging/socializing:  0

Caffeine consumed: Countless.

Alright, let me first express my joy, wonder, and some other feeling (oh wait, that’s nausea from the caffeine) at the achievement. I finally did it! I hit a pure 48!! I’d dance a jig but that will have to wait for when I’ve regained control over my lower extremities.

My page count is down from last year. When I went to check my stats this year against last, disappointment and bewilderment flavored the air. How, if I’d hit it pure this year and missed last, had I read less? The answer lies in the audio book. Last year we only managed it to disc 2 of the audio book, this year we completed the entire thing. Speaking of which, we were unaware that the book, The Immortal Highlander, was book six in a series. However, it seemed to do just fine as a stand alone. Our problem with it? While both my sister and I enjoy PNR, it is highly uncomfortable to unknowingly start listening aloud to something as steamy as this book. There was a bit of avoidance of eye contact and nervous laughter until we got too tired to play the prude. Next year I’ll make sure the only sex scenes I read are privately enjoyed…

I’ve just got to take another minute. Forty-eight hours of reading. Was it hard? Hell yeah. At a couple points I had to ask myself why I was putting myself through this. Part of the reason behind the blog post prior to this one was not to convince you of why I read, but to remind myself. But that was such a small part of it. The majority of this weekend was a barrel of monkeys because of the books. No other time of year can I eschew the outside world and just sit down and enjoy the physical act of reading.

Skinwalker was amazing. Jane Yellowrock is badass. I’ve already placed requests for the rest of the series and this is going on my to-buy list.

Not a Genuine Black Man will get its own review post later this week (once I’ve recovered). Suffice to say, it made an impact.

Stolen Into Slavery was labeled YA by my local library. Times like these, I’m reminded that I’m in the South. The book reads like YF but I know that it was labelled YA based on the fact that there are some hard truths in it. I’m going to read it aloud to the chits before I return it. It isn’t perfect, and in fact at points I thought it trite, glossing over the hard bits, but it broaches the subject.

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running was… Interesting. I wanted to read a book about running. Instead, I somehow ended up with a book about writing. And running. And various parts of the author’s life that had nothing to do with either. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the book. It is just that, when I walk into a book being told (by the blurb, no less) that it is about running, I just expect more of it to actually be about running.

The ones I didn’t finish: Can’t Stop Won’t Stop was only put down because it was heavy. Seriously and in the literal sense. The hardback was too heavy and I was too tired so I exchanged it for something lighter. I’ll definitely be picking it back up later. I’ve read quite a bit of Jane Yolen so Briar Rose was no surprise (in my enjoyment), another one that I’ll finish later. Witches of East End… I don’t know what it is about you, I’ve been attempting to read you for so long. I want to read you, I enjoy being in your world, but when I put you down, I can’t seem to pick you back up. I’m going to force myself to finish it though as there is no reason not to. I like the book, enjoy it even, I’m just apathetic for some strange reason.

48 Hour Book Challenge really and truly completed!!! Happy dance! Happy dance!

(I hope this is all coherent. My apologies if it is not.)

EDIT: I was going to make the rounds and comment but after realizing that it took me an hour to write the above post, I’m going to go attempt to crash. My brain has apparently decided to stop working.

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My Soul Mate, the Book

10 Sunday Jun 2012

Posted by Muttix in Books/Reading/Libraries

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

48 hour book challenge, reading challenge

I know that I just tweeted that I had no intention of blogging right now but I’m so jittery and just all around full of (weird, fluttery) energy that I couldn’t help it.

Anyhow…

Sigh. Why don’t men exist in the world as they are portrayed in fiction? Are they just the whispered fantasies of authors (and readers) the world over? Or are the men of collective dreams actually in existence in the real world?

I’m thinking that my first musing is the one most close to the truth… though perhaps with a bit of the second thrown in. Maybe a piece from one man, a smidgen of another, with a bit of fantasy to fill in the blanks? Irregardless (I like unnecessary words like that one), I still sigh a bit on the inside (and maybe some on the outside) when I read a man so perfect, so strong, so sweet, so sexy… Let me collect myself.

Back on topic, this is why I read. Because of the pure escapism. To read what can only be imagined in real life. To experience that which doesn’t actually exist. This feeling. The desire, the laughter, the sadness. Defeat, unending possibilities… All of that is why I read, why I can often be found curled up in a comfy corner, snuggling up with a book like a long-missed lover.

But it isn’t just the men. Beyond the declaration of true love and soul mates, I crave the action and adventure of a good read. Being transported back in time as I slowly turn the pages, drinking it all in. Visiting countless variations on a supposed future. Crying over the deep sadness created by a tragedy and then getting up and walking away from it, having lost nothing but salty water in the process. For as long as I can remember, I have had adventures through books.

My first experience with love was in a book. My first crush found in fiction. Judy Blume made me giggle in wonder about so many growing pains and I’m sure without her, I would have had a much rougher time with it. Jane Auel taught me about sex better than any sex ed class I’d blushed through in school. Ronald Dahl taught me that it is ok, no, fantastic to be the one who loved to read and that sometimes, grown ups weren’t always right. Stephen King scared the ever-loving shit out of me.

I searched for clues everywhere, inspired by children who lived in a boxcar and a little girl detective. I looked for a conch shell of my very own, scanned my room for little people, believed in fairies, peered through rabbit holes, lived the life of a horse, moved around first the big woods and then the prairie.

So many memories, as real to me as my own. While reading about staying golden, I had my first real kiss. I whispered tales of mischievous  rabbits to my growing belly. In times of loss, when I felt most alone, I turned to the classics and Austen and Dickens held my hand and my heart. Numerous poets took up residence in my mind as I learned to let my anger and sadness leak onto the page instead of out my eyes.

Reading has been a constant in my life. Books have been the cornerstone of my existence. Knowledge, entertainment, solace, and hope have been provided to me from the same constant source: the page. While the messenger has changed throughout the years, and with it, the message, what has been important was that it was delivered.

Why did I chose to spend my weekend reading? Why did I forgo sleep and showers to bury my nose in the stories of others? Because of this feeling, this inexplicable thing, that I can find nowhere else.

For I have found my soul mate, the one I’ve been looking for all along, and it is the book.

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