Morning coffee and complaints.

I’m not a book to be read and devoured. Page turner. Chaptered. Preface. Prologue.

If I was I’d be paper back. You can see the use easily. Wear and tear.

Wouldn’t that be easier for you? That way what you interpret me to be I would then be. Making me amount to some desirous interlude. Something you escape from the reality into. I’m fictional.

If a book could somehow glare at the reader that would be happening momentarily.

Dear reader, fuck you and your insurmountable stereotypes. It is fun to imagine the world as simple as you make it. Hearts and flowers. Successes and triumphs.

Your gross naivety drives me to insanity. Sickness. Food poisoning.

What you produce in your thought bubbles is romantic and ridiculous. Temporary and incorrect. You misinterpret the information set in front of you.

It would be so nice to live in your world. A world where what you want things to mean, they mean. Truly, “the world is what you make of it.” Hearts and flowers.

Rose-colored glasses my ass; you live in a comatose state. I want to smoke what you’re smoking, oh reader. Please. For it doesn’t matter what the words say. Pages blank, you read what you want.

Because apparently, you’re imagination is greater.

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Illegally Distractible

I’m addicted to something I cannot even feel.

Fifty Shades of Grey

It’s having its effects. Affects. I’m affectedly effected.

I’m transcending to a place where putting the book down is a punishment. Truly, at the base of the eroticism is a romantic wanderlust. I’m there. Seeing the surface and the unwavering under layers.

Soon it will be book 2.

To say I’m currently single would be a lie. To say my expectations have swelled is an understatement.

Morning-side.

Why do we hold on? Ever fearful of what’s to come we trudge. Calves sore, feet salted from sweat. The ground hot like the beach thick like mud. Continuously traveling uphill.

A treadmill set at incline 10, pack on back, summer sun, forgot breakfast.

At some point we tell ourselves it’s worth it. Who’s worse, us to ourselves or others to us? I knew there were liars and thieves, away from me and in the distance, but never have I felt so comparable.

But it’s worth it.

Wondering what “it” is.

Lately I’ve been practically in-able to wake up. It’s as if no matter the dream it is better than the awake. My comatose reality plays tricks, however, creating strange awareness and frustrations.

I tried to start a book and I couldn’t focus.

I need to focus.

I need coffee, for life.

 

Midnight and Thought Provoked.

So, obviously on a sugar rush. Here I am. Insomniac. Thinking and deliberating.

I can miss what I used to see. Miss all those memories. But really I can’t tell you truly, if I do miss you and me.

Rhyming sucks.

***

Kind of spewing at the moment.

I’m feeling like I’m ready for time to move more swiftly. Can we say…quick montage to the future? That’d be great. First, of course, the epic background music (remix) has to be chosen. Not sure yet. Have a few ideas.

Eye of the Tiger

The final countdown

I’m a Barbie Girl – just to mix it up.

In no way does the music have to be motivational.

***

I’m not sure where I’m at. Kind of feeling like I’m floating through life. Grasping at straws.

The straws being forcible diet and exercise. Can’t tell if I’m really enjoying the participation or just the routine. Or just any of it.

For now I’m going to continue.

Work is losing it’s luster. Stress. Repetition. Disappointment. It’s so hard to really depend on any of my co-workers there. Smooth sailing ship is like a wet dream.

***

Good night. I think I’ll start a new book tomorrow. Something more…entrapping.

Re-make my love for the Movies

50 Upcoming Movie Remakes (Yep, 50!)

Here’s to hoping we can grab hold of some originality.

This thought brought to you by the hundreds of re-makes that are now coming out in theatre’s. I was speaking to my Father earlier today and mentioned that the point of these films is that they came out when they did. Added on to that ideal is also the enjoyment as to what “effects” were available at the time. So what 3D wasn’t on the big screen or that special effects weren’t at their peak. I do not mind. I especially do not mind the sound of a grown man making the “chi-chi-chi-ca-ca-ca” sounds in Friday the 13th.

It is indeed the point that the films were made then and therefore in their prime. Is it sad for us to relive the periods for which the films were made? Are we so caught up in the “give me now’s” that we must steroid enhance all films that have already been produced? What is this?

Books are still being made. Yes ideas are recycled, whether it be due to the seed of “I’ve heard a similar story once before” or that humans are only so original, books are constantly being written. Films, please join the club.

I know originality is in short supply and that themes replay themselves. Heck, “vintage” is always in and styles once “forgotten” are making the full swing back.

None the less as a viewer I am frustrated.

Dear Theatres,

I love you. Now please show me something I haven’t seen.

– Sincerely,

The Dearly Devoted

Pages

I have to start reading again. Opening the pages. Displacing myself. Removed. Transported.

I like the feeling of it.

Downside is not actually being in those places, those lives. I forget sometimes. Turn the page. Close the book. From there the dreams carry me through. It’s the following days that bring the wake up.

Reading is almost sad really. How am I not those people? How are those things not able to happen to me?

Who knows. That’s why we read.

I Read for Pleasure

Book reading Goal: 20 books read by 2013

So far I’ve read:

  1. The Hunger Games
  2. Catching Fire
  3. Mocking Jay

Currently reading:

  1. Wicked

Reading has been amazing. Quite literally is the best way to escape. At any moment I could be waging war, being born into a family of mystical creatures or being followed by zombies. Who couldn’t love that?

“Every man who knows how to read has it in his power to magnify himself, to multiply the ways in which he exists, to make his life full, significant and interesting.”Aldous Huxley

To add to the abilities a book has to thrust me into realms I could only imagine, it has incredible healing power. Going through a Divorce helped to dilute the person that I am. Reading seems to magnify things about myself that I wasn’t seeing; strength, creativity, compassion. Bluntly: my awesomeness.

Something else about the written word is it gives me desire to share; Blogging, Twitter, Pinterest, photography, everyday communication…the list goes on. Sharing is caring about myself. Really if you don’t have anything you wish to share with anyone else than who are you? And why should we care that you even exist?

Books: an addiction that I’m welcoming with open arms.

2012 Goal: No doubt I will surpass it.