Adventures in Writing Land

So, my writing partner in crime and I seem to have the same problem when it comes to completing a book: we can’t finish one. I’ve just read her blog (writingsawitch@blogspot.com) and I found myself making comparisons to my own writing journey, so I decided to share my thoughts on the subject.

She’s absolutely right, writing a book is not an easy task. It’s been on my To-Do List and my New Year’s Resolution’s List for the past few years, and I’ve yet to actually check that one off. I expected it to be difficult, but sometimes it’s like I’m extracting teeth from my own head, and it hurts and I just want to stop for a while and let my head rest. But I can’t. I know I have to keep going. Even if I don’t want to, even if I want to sleep or read or play video games or some other form of distraction, I know I can’t let all of that get in the way. But I’ll still pout about it from time to time.

There’s a difference, too, between writing a book and writing a publishable book. Writers are perfectionists and the worst when it comes to self criticisms. We are way too analytical for our own good, and nothing is ever finished, not really. For us, when something is turned in (i.e. an essay, an article) we still cringe days later when we go back a reread what we turned in, wishing that we would have added this or taken this sentence out. It’s annoying and frustrating, but so set in our natures that we cannot help it. And would we really want it any other way? It’s good to not settle, and to always strive for the next level, even if it’s irritating. Right? I know when I post on my blog, I’ll go back and reread it and edit it if there are any errors that I catch (or that my roommate catches) because I’d rather not be judged by how I’ve written but what I’ve written instead.

Back to the discussion at hand, my friend and I have had the same issue with this whole writing a book thing, only she’s continued with primarily one idea this entire time, while I’ve gone from five different stories of varying variety and can’t seem to land on one long enough to write something worthy of continuing. Ugh. I’ve described it before by saying that I have a sort of ADHD when it comes to writing. There are few days that go by where I don’t write, but it’s mostly blogging and not on one of the many book ideas I have. I haven’t lost heart yet, I’m still diligently plugging away at ideas, but I think that my numero uno problem is that I don’t have one solid idea. I’ve got tons of little pictures in my head for several different characters and plot lines, but there isn’t one set world that stands out in my mind as something that I can write solidly from. I’m sorry if that doesn’t make sense. Some writers describe their book writing experience as being handed a perfectly wrapped gift, and everything unfolds neatly and prettily in their minds, so they are able to put to pen and paper exactly what they want to convey from the very beginning. As lovely as that is, my brain does not work in that way. At all. There are a bunch of half-wrapped, partially buried, some chewed on presents scattered around the floor beneath the tree that might contain something pretty, but it’s very hard to see. In fact, it’s so hard to tell what’s hiding in there, that I hesitate to poke my hand around for fear of what I might pull out. My brain is not neat, it is not orderly, but it’s the only one I’ve got, so I better start digging.

I just hope someone will drive me to the hospital if I pull my hand out and a few fingers are missing.

Work-Filled Days, Karaoke Nights

Busy. That’s an understated word used to describe my life. A thesaurus might say: full of activity, demanding, hectic, eventful. All of those apply, and more. No complaints here, either, I appreciate the turn my life has taken, and I love everything that I’m doing right now. I only wish there were twelve more hours in the day because I hate to have to tell someone ‘Maybe next week we can get together,’ or ‘I can stop by between work and a meeting for an hour…’ oh well. Nothing can change that fact unless I can track down one of those nifty time-shifting necklaces Hermione has in The Prisoner of Azkaban. Note to friends: that would be an excellent Christmas gift. Just sayin’.

In between my ever changing work schedule, two classes at the dojo, and writing, I’ve managed to fill up my extra time (haha, there’s not much of it) with graduation parties and going away parties lately. Needless to say, I’ve had the most fun in the past week than I have in the past few months, so a big THANK YOU to all of my friends who have hosted these life-transition shindigs. It’s been fun. And in its own way, it’s been a life transition for me, as well. For the first time, I did karaoke last night, and it wasn’t as frighteningly debilitating as I thought it was going to be. I always pictured myself standing in front of a crowd and barely squeaking something out as people booed me off the stage. I’m happy to say that that did not happen, and I’m still in one piece. My voice, on the other hand, is raspy and my throat a bit raw this morning, but it was worth it. It was my friend’s going away party last night and, in my whiskey haze, I agreed to go on stage and perform Lady Marmalade from Moulin Rouge. I did not relish being in the spotlight, quite literally there were lights shining down on us from a real stage, but I did enjoy belting out one of my favorite songs. Before we went on, my friends and I made the observation that a performance is based on how many people come and dance and cheer you on (there were a few where no one was on the dance floor…and once or twice where the music just kind of faded out…yeah that was a little sad) and all I hoped for was that we didn’t have an empty dance floor. When they called us out, I decided to focus, not look at the crowd, and just remember the words to the song that I’ve sung a thousand times, and so I did. My lovely co-singers decided to peace out on the singing in the beginning of the song (there are five parts to the song and there were three of us) so I did the best I could despite the range difference and the rapping and by the end of the song, we had a decently populated dance floor and some stunned friends. It was pretty awesome. Not something I’m going to do every weekend, but fun and exhilarating nonetheless.

I met up with some friends from work this morning for a much needed hearty, greasy breakfast and while we were being seated, we noticed a group of four guys sitting across from us, one of which was wearing a glittery flashing tiara and a colorful lei, and they were all wearing a bleary-eyed smile as they recounted the bachelor party they had come down for the night before. That scene made my day. It was good to know that I wasn’t the only one that had an amazing night followed by a fantastic morning with friends. I don’t think people take enough time to have fun, myself included, and the last week has shown me that even if I’m busy, even if I think I don’t have time, there are ways to shift things around and rearrange schedules in order to do what’s most important: to not live a stagnant, predictable life. There was no way when I got up yesterday morning at 545 for my morning workout class that I thought I’d be doing karaoke 19 hours later. I never expected to make it a nearly 24 hour day of nonstop fun and unplanned adventure. Even though I got less than six hours of sleep and I’m starting my eight hour closing shift in a few minutes, I don’t regret a single second of yesterday. Sleep can wait, life can’t.

Six months down, six more to go!

Half way through the year already… I’m kind of freaking out a little. Side note: I’ve heard that only women use the term, ‘A little,’ in their writing. I wonder what men use instead? Anyways, half way through the year and I feel that I’ve so much more to accomplish, and it’s making me nervous. My three New Year’s resolutions were: Finish writing a draft of a book, keep up with my kickboxing and total body fitness classes, and go on a date. So far, one of those goals I’ve surpassed my own expectations, another one I’ve been diligently working on but it’s not quite there yet, and the other one is not even close to being accomplished. Betchya can’t guess which one is which!

My fitness goals for the year have been amazing and I’ve continued my second class for over six months now despite having to get up at 545 four times a week. My upstairs neighbors make getting up that early even better because they are constantly playing music until way past midnight and they pound on the walls at random times during the night… I so don’t want to know what they’re doing. My roommate thinks that there’s some sort of sex trade or private stripper dances going on since the music doesn’t start until after 10 and there are a bunch of men that go up there… I can’t say that she’s way off target either because our interactions with them have been strange at best. Anywho, I just recently acquired my brown belt in Muay Thai Kickboxing, and am now a part of this year’s black belt candidates, so my continuous fitness education can only get better from here. Fitness resolution: CHECK!

As for writing a draft of a book… well I was roughly 125 pages into the first one when I realized that I had a different story that needed to come out instead. I swear I flip my concentration so much that I might have ADHD or something, but I’m working on calming myself down. The current story I have is roughly 30 pages, but I still have another 6 months to work through it and produce roughly 300 pages of writing… ya it’s a hefty goal, but not completely impossible. My blogging, on the other hand, has maintained a certain consistency for the past month or so, which has been helpful. The introduction of ‘Dear You,’ has helped to get some feelings out that were either unacknowledged or harbored for way too long, and not only has that been a cheap therapy session for me, I think some quality writing has come out of it. I’ve also rekindled relationships through it too, which was an unexpected and much appreciated bonus. One of my best friends said that she likes the way that she can relate some of them to her life, because a lot of them are nonspecific in detail, and the generalizations allow for her to imagine that it’s someone she knows, and I loved that comment. That’s the best thing I’ve heard so far about any of my pieces, because I want to reach out to people through my writing and that fact just brings me closer to my readers. Thanks to everyone that’s stayed with me! I just reached 1,000 views yesterday, and that made me very happy! Writing resolution: PARTIAL CHECK!

Okay, the third resolution… I’ve thought about giving it up, I’ve thought about rewording it, I’ve thought a lot about it and have decided that it wouldn’t be fair to myself to give up just yet. However, I’ve also concluded that I can’t go on a date with someone when I haven’t met anyone dateable. I don’t mean that I haven’t met sweet, good guys that like me, I have, and I appreciate and am flattered by your attentions, but I know I’m not right for you, and I know you know it as well. I haven’t met a guy where I’ve been like, “Whoa, I have to get to know this person and I want what they want in life!” There hasn’t been a single guy that has been brought to my attention where I’ve felt that I connected with them enough to warrant a date. I don’t think there are many of those left in my city, and that worries me. There has been one guy in the past year and a half that I’ve been remotely interested in, but low and behold, he’s got a girlfriend. Of course. But that’s besides the point. I know that there have to be more guys out there (and by ‘guys’ I mean men, not boys or young twenty-something man-child wanna be men who can’t keep a job or who still depend on their parents for everything) and I know I’m going to have to search carefully and thoroughly through the few remaining guys left here, it’s a bit of a process though. My roommate said that I need to go to places that I’m interested in (i.e. the bookstore) to find suitable single guys, but I frequent the local Barnes and Noble enough to blow an entire paycheck, and I haven’t met or seen one. So, my question now is, ‘Where are all the decent single guys?’ cuz I don’t know. And I don’t think I’m the only one. Date resolution: NOT EVEN A HINT OF A CHECK, OR DASH, OR, well, you get the picture ^_^

Things happen for a reason.

I’m not entirely sure what just happened.

I know there are times in our lives when things change, life is change, I understand that, but it’s hard to take when you never saw that change coming. I suppose it was inevitable. I was so set in my days, blissfully ignorant of anything going on, and now I’ve lost my footing and am trying to once again balance on uneven ground. This morning, we had a family, a happy, energetic, misfit lovely family and now we’ve lost our leader, our mentor, our friend. The numb feeling that came over the crowd was instantaneous. We were all trying to figure out if it was a joke, and when the punch line never came, the tears started to flow, faces fell, hearts sank. Confusion ensued. I’m still confused and unsure, I know I’m not the only one.

So what do I do when I’m hurt and confused and scared? I call my mom. She could hear it in my voice when I said hi, and she was patient while I tried to explain the situation that I didn’t even understand myself. I told her that I felt numb, that I didn’t even want to do anything for the rest of the day, despite plans having been made days in advance. I just wanted to sit and not do anything at all. But she told me no. That I had to get up and go out and get on with my plans, with my life. She said that even if I didn’t feel like it, I should go and not let it ruin my day. It started off positive, so there’s no reason why it shouldn’t end positive. And she was absolutely right.

There’s no reason things shouldn’t turn out positive, despite how heartsick and deeply hurt you are by the negative. Things happen for a reason, I’ve written that and said that many times before and will continue to do so because it’s a truth I stand by. Things happen for a reason, even if we don’t know what reason that’s for yet. Even if we can’t imagine how or why or what or when, things happen for a reason.

Expect nothing, prepare for anything. Tears threaten to fall when I write that because it is something that he lives by, that we’ve all learned from him. Expect nothing. Prepare for anything. We most definitely did not expect this, but because of what we’ve learned from him, from the family we’ve created, we are prepared to face this bravely and with integrity. Even if we don’t know why, we know that the decision was not made lightly. Even if we don’t yet understand why, we know that we will continue to thrive and build a new path together. That’s what family’s for.

We will miss you, Sir, and there will always be a place in our hearts for you. Body, Mind, and Spirit… the new logo came at an opportune time. It embodies not only what you’ve created, but the challenges faced and how we are to overcome this shift in balance. There will never be anyone that can replace you and the part you’ve held in our family for so many years, and I know no one will try. We wish you luck with your venture and look forward to hearing about the wonderful things you will accomplish in your life.

This isn’t goodbye.

It will never be goodbye.

Dear You Part 12

Dear You,

What were you thinking? Or perhaps the more appropriate question is ‘Why weren’t you thinking?’ Millions of people have now seen you, your actions, the destruction you’ve brought about and the devastation left behind after your acts of insane violence, and I have to ask, was it worth it? Did it solve anything? Does destroying someone else’s property make you feel good? How about when you woke up this morning whether in a cell or at home because you skulked away before you got caught, did you have remorse or even think about what those people are going to do without their cars? Without windows on their shops? I don’t think I need to point out that not only have your actions caused deep shame and embarrassment for your city, your country, but your economy will suffer now, too. All those businesses have to clean up after you, since you’re obviously not going to help. Some may have to close in order to put to rights what you set in motion last night when you destroyed it, others will stay open but receive less business because of the shattered glass that lines the streets, shattered by countless thoughtless people who incited this chaos just because. I wonder if you even thought about that before the first tipped car, the first busted window. My guess would be no.

There are moments that define us, times that are telling of who we are as people and show our true natures. In this moment, you have turned the peaceful, friendly definition of your city into a foolish mess. A mess that will be cleaned up by those around you to try and put some semblance of your former self together. It might be a while before that happens, though. It’s sickening and sad that it has to be done in the first place.

So many of us on the other side sat silently and watched live footage of the destruction you wrought. Our voices wouldn’t have been heard if we’d used them anyway because of your berserk behavior, like a spell cast upon you in the midst of battle. It felt so unreal to watch. It was terrifying, mortifying. To be reduced to a mindless beast is a scary thing. People who were witnesses said it was like a war zone, it no longer felt like they were in their city, but some place far away in the middle of war strewn streets.  They watched as strangers, neighbors, and friends transformed so easily into unrecognizable creatures. How do you think they fared through all of it?

I don’t need to reiterate just how brutally heartbreaking it was to see you like that.

I don’t need to explain any further that you did wrong.

I hope that you take the broken pieces and try to help build a stronger city, a stronger you.

But I can hope from here to eternity and it might not do a thing.

**A**

Riots today, what happens tomorrow?

It’s funny how many conversations I overhear on a daily basis. It’s not that I mean to listen in on what people are saying, but they happen to be quite loud and obnoxious, so I’m not getting much else done… and what I’m hearing now has caused a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Last night, there was a riot on the streets of downtown Vancouver, BC, and now I’m listening to four Canadians sitting around talking and laughing. Laughing. One girl just said that it was funny as she watched the riot because all of these people were running around with shopping carts full of laptops and big screen T.V.’s. And then she said, “I mean, where are you going to put those?! You don’t have room for that!” As if they were either homeless or poor. Neither of which matters, but the fact that she said watching it was funny and that she was laughing so easily about it is disgusting. Her country now looks completely stupid in the eyes of the rest of the world. I’m sickened. I don’t live in Canada, but my town is pretty close, and I feel for the Canadians inadvertently involved with the riot from last night.

As I was heading into work this morning, I was listening to a Canadian radio station (they are clearer than the ones that are local, and let’s face it, are more entertaining) and the host of the show said that it had nothing to do with the hockey game at all, but it was used an as excuse to be loud, stupid, and crazy. And he’s right. It’s not just boys going out and doing stupid acts, it was all sorts of people ready and prepared to cause havoc and chaos just because they wanted to, and the loss of a hockey game just gave them a cover to complete their acts of insanity. Because that’s what it was. Insane chaos. I watched live footage from last night and nearly cried. People were drunk and out of control and uncaring that they were flipping stranger’s vehicles and setting them on fire. I understand men getting in a testosterone driven argument with someone and getting into a physical fight to get their point across. But the premeditated acts of last night have no excuse. My question is why was that necessary? Canada has been viewed as the friendliest country, a beautiful country full of beautiful people, and now they look like fools. Uncontrollable fools who riot over the loss of a hockey game. My heart is heavy for the majority of the city that wasn’t involved at all. It’s sad that such a small group of people has ruined the reputation of such a place.

What happens now? Americans are being warned to not go into Vancouver, there’s actually a travel warning to stay away from our neighbors to the north. How long will that last? How long will it take to clean up the mess on the streets, the burned cars, the looted stores, the broken pieces of a city once viewed as one of the best cities in the world? Will that reputation be restored again years from now when this has blown over, or will it be a permanent stain on the city’s record?

Another couple just sat next to me and started talking about last night. What else is there to talk about when we live so close to the source? This couple is American, and they, too, are laughing. They’re mumbling about the clean-up, how this has happened before, something else that I tuned out because now I’m pissed.

What’s wrong with you?

Dear You Part 11

Dear You,

Sometimes, I want to punch you in the face. When you pop your gum when you’re nervous, or when you dramatically claim “FML!” when something goes wrong that you didn’t expect, or when you push my buttons to get me to go further than I think I can. But especially when you pop your gum. Just sayin’. There are other times, however, when I can’t believe how lucky I’ve been to have you as one of my best friends that’s, let’s face it, more of a sister than anything. You can’t tell me I never call you that because now it’s in writing for the entire world to see. So there.

You push me. Plain and simple. You push me to do my best, to go just a little further, to hit a little harder, not just in kickboxing, but in other things, too. I know you have faith in me when I don’t always have it in myself, and I can’t tell you enough how important that is to me. There are times when I ask myself, ‘Can I really do this?’ and you’re there to tell me that I’ve done it before, or that I made it this far so there’s no turning back now. I know I don’t thank you enough because it’s difficult for me to verbalize things, but I’m thanking you now.

Three years ago, I was broken and needed help. Living on my own was expensive, and I was struggling with a lot not just financially, but in other areas of my life as well. Then there you were, an eighteen-year-old spitfire with the maturity of someone twice your age. We became fast friends, and shortly thereafter, roommates. You know I’m not religious, but I know it wasn’t by accident that we met and are in each other’s lives. Me being the older (but not by that much) wiser (I’m kind of like an owl) full of knowledge sister and you being the younger (but not by that much) active, energetic, go-getter, stubborn (something we both share, I think, but you more so) little sister that gets on my nerves but I couldn’t imagine not being around. I couldn’t have asked for a better first roommate (let’s face it, the other one I had doesn’t count. At all.) and I know we’ve helped to balance the other out. I can remember how different we both were three years ago, and I’m astonished to see how we’ve both grown because of the other.

As we’ve both witnessed over the last couple of years, some friends are temporary, but family is forever. You can always count on family to be there for you, to support you, look out for you, and help you through anything. So, my sister from a different mister, (I totally came up with that before I ever heard it on T.V.) know that you can count on me even if you’re living in another city, state, or even country. Especially if you live in another country because I will be there visiting. Just sayin’.

Thank you for always being yourself, and know that you can trust yourself even when I’m not around. I’m not sure if you’ll want to hug me or punch me after you read this, but please refrain from either since you know I’m not all mushy and stuff.

Just sayin’.

**A**

Fear of Falling

I’m afraid of falling. I can’t figure out why. I can’t even stand on a curb without the feeling of vertigo, and forget walking down a stairwell without a handrail. Just thinking about it gets my heart beating fast. It’s not the height that scares me, I’m fine flying on a plane, or standing on a bridge, or riding in an elevator. But if there’s nothing between me and the ground (even if it’s only six inches away) fear sets in and I panic. I was on a hike last week and we came to a muddy part too deep to walk through without stepping in and getting mud to our calves, so we had to find an alternate route. My friend went first, nimbly jumping on a log and hopping across to the other side. I stared at the log for twenty seconds before stepping foot on it. It was wide enough for both of my feet, so I started to shuffle slowly across, ignoring the mud pools on either side of me. When I got to the middle, the log tapered to a single foot width and I could no longer ignore the fact that there was nothing keeping me on the log but my own balance, and that suddenly wasn’t enough. I looked up at my friend with a self-depreciative smile and said, “I think I’m stuck.” And I was. There was no going forward. She looked up at me and said, “You’re going to make it, just walk fast!” I shook my head. “Nope. Not walking fast.” Going faster makes it worse. I get wobbly and even more off balance when I go fast. “Yes, you can do it, just run across!” She smiled encouragingly and I bit my lip, feeling bad for not listening to her, but also knowing that I would most definitely fall if I went fast. I always do. “Do you want me to hold your hand?” She asked half jokingly, half serious. I knew she would if I needed her to, but I’m sort of prideful and I wouldn’t allow myself the weakness. “No thanks,” I said and took a deep breath. I didn’t want her to get frustrated with me for such a stupid thing, but I was afraid. I knew it was ridiculous, the mud was just mud, and there was no threat to my life if I did fall. Even with those rationalizations, I still couldn’t put my foot forward and go. “Just think of it like a hardwood floor,” she said. “Can’t,” I said, “it’s not a hardwood floor.” I looked down, a foot and a half separated me from the mud. I wasn’t up that high, but that fear still paralyzed me. So I started to shuffle backwards. “No, you can do it!” She said as she stepped onto the log to take my hand. I knew she’d lunge after it if I backed up far enough, she was quite determined to get me across that damn log. Once my feet were on the wide part of the log again, I started to feel okay. I looked at her, then down at the log, once again at the mud, then back at her. “Okay,” I said. “I’m going to do it.” I didn’t want her to be annoyed for cutting our hike so short (we were only a quarter of the way through at that point) and I didn’t want to be frustrated with myself for letting something so insanely ridiculous keep me from doing something fun. I stepped forward with my left foot, but instead of walking across like a balance beam, I turned my foot, and the rest of my body, so I could shuffle sideways. The log got even smaller towards the end, but it was close enough to jump to hard ground, so I did, and my friend smiled. “See! You did it!” I smiled tentatively and looked back at my accomplishment. The log really wasn’t that long, nor was it very high, and it nearly defeated me. I tucked away the incident to go over later, and we carried on our hike, which was amazing.

So where do I go from here? I don’t know where this fear stems from, it’s impossible to tell if it’s a repressed memory or feeling from when I was little, or me just being plain irrational. The moments where I can temporarily overcome it are small triumphs, but the fear of falling always comes back, and the next time I face that log I’ll still hesitate.

I suppose further research into the depths of my psyche is my only answer. Wish me luck.

Kind of a little Kindle obsessed...

So, I broke down and got a Kindle. For those of you who don’t know me, this is an unthinkable action that I admittedly feel guilty and ashamed about. However, I also feel relieved and satisfied, and those feelings far outweigh the negative ones. For years, I would bemoan the ‘E-Reader’, the ‘fake books’ that would bring about the downfall of those precious, comforting real books. As I took a look at my burgeoning collection, and my bowing shelves, I had to re-think about my many harsh replies and snide remarks about the uses of a Kindle.

I read ten books in three and a half weeks. I bought every single one of them, and five of them were brand new hardbacks. Yeah, my bank account took a dip during those short few weeks. They were worth every cent, but if I had purchased them on say, a Kindle, I could have read even more, and isn’t that the important thing? Or I could have saved the extra money for later and put it towards my upcoming trip, or fixed the crack in my windshield, or gone to a movie. There are a lot of benefits that I neglected to admit when I was naïve and in denial. I was most definitely in denial.

There are four book cases in my apartment. Each is filled to the edge, some are three books deep, and all of my middle shelves have started to cave. I’ve even filled the crevices between shelves with books placed horizontally to help with the bowing. I have boxes of books on my floor in my room, and it’s a mess. My roommate asked me if I’m a hoarder, and I laughed, not sure how to reply. It’s easy to see why she’d say that because of the overflow of books. There are roughly 1,200 books placed around my home, and while I love each dearly, I cannot find room to fit any more. Until I get a bigger place, that is, but that won’t be for a little while yet.

As you can see, there are several reasons why I’ve made the enormous decision to become a part of the Kindle-clan. It’s the best decision I’ve made in a while, I know my shelves certainly think so. However, I now have an itching every time I’m in a place with Wi-Fi and I can pop on to search new books, or old books, or whatever books I feel like searching for and purchasing. It’s become a bit of a problem.

Convenience. We, as humans, love things that are convenient for us. I have a gas station with a Subway and a Dominoes inside of it and I laugh every time drive by. The ultimate convenience: lunch, dinner, lotto, and gas all in one go! The Kindle is my one-stop shop for books. All I have to do is get online and go. But, oh man, is it dangerous. And lazy. I no longer have to make the trek to the bookstore, although I’ll still make it to my favorite spot at least once a month if only for the experience of being surrounded by shelves and shelves of new books. I’ll probably buy something, too. As I’ve said before, it’s an obsession. The fact that I can also bring my collection with me when I travel is something I hadn’t really thought of before. I usually put two or three books into my bag depending on what I’m reading and if I have a lot of down time where I’m going, and the weight adds up in my purse. I think that’s partially why I have a bad shoulder because of the weight of my purse, but with my Kindle… well it’s a lot lighter and not as crowded and I can choose to start or stop or change books on a whim, and I rather like my option to choose. It’s freeing.

There are good things and not so good things about everything. On one side owning a Kindle has the amazing benefit of condensing my growing collection and on the other side is that it hasn’t helped my bank account. In fact, I think it’s rather dwindled a bit further. But I can’t complain. For all the years I grimaced whenever someone hinted at an E-Reader (or sometimes my reactions were a bit more violent, like when my roommate got a Nook for Christmas last year and I chased her around the apartment) I have to say that I’m no longer going to say things like ‘never’.

Three years ago, if someone would have asked me if I’d ever purchase an E-Reader, I most assuredly would have said, “Never.” Today, although I technically didn’t purchase it because it was a gift for my birthday, I say, “Who wouldn’t?”

I’m a hypocrite. But damn, I love my Kindle.