It's been awhile. Sorry psuedo-journal.
I recently finished two books. Both different, but both dealing with death in some aspect. The first left me feeling energized and ready to tackle any obstacle that has the misfortune to cross my path-weird, I know that a book about death would do that to me. There is just something about that Katniss Everdeen who appropriately has serious PTSD problems, yet handles the most grueling things, that makes me want to strangle the heck out of trials.
The second ripped apart my insides, forced me to look at them and analyze the depth of my lack of understanding of death, and then gently set me down sobbing. Seriously. It's amazing to me that impact that books have on my personality and my emotions. Made up stories by people I have never met have the power to change my perspective on the simplest aspect of this thing we call life.
After watching Catching Fire twice and rereading Mockingjay, I obsessed over every detail and read or watched as much as I could about the characters and even the actors. It consumed me for a few days (or weeks, who am I kidding?). Sometimes I wish the best books would be left alone and not made into movies. I feel like that just confuses my sense of reality. Hate me if you want, but I am very pleased with the decisions made by the Hunger Games people. However, I find myself falling into a pre-pubescent teenage girl drama where I feverishly wonder if Josh Hutcherson and Jennifer Lawrence will REALLY end up together and live out that whole Peeta-Katniss relationship. It's so silly.
They are making the second book, The Fault in our Stars by John Greene into a full-blown movie. I'm in a conflicted state. I loved that book. Probably too much. It deals with the horror of being a pitied cancer patient awaiting impending death and then losing a beautiful boyfriend to more cancerous death. It sucked in all the best ways. I bawled. I laughed. I mourned. I found light. I questioned. I loved it. Do I watch the movie? Do I see the characters that have become so intimately mine turn into someone else? I truly can't decide.
I love reading. I have read more for pleasure in the last two years than I have since I read the Babysitter Club Series under my bed as a ten year old. I can't wait to push this love of literature down the throats of some unsuspecting eighth grader. Yay!
Anyway, books are cool.
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