Friday, October 30, 2009

Twilight. Part 1.

Yes, it was those four. Not very original of me, I know, but they hooked me and still haven't let go. So now, cuddled up in the warm embrace of the fandom and fangirling over every bit of news, I'm obsessed with a fictional world. Yes, I know. Not very original either. It could be worse. I could be on drugs or something. At least that's what I keep telling myself.
To those who are sighing, raising eyebrows, shaking heads and rolling eyes: feel free to stop, I've heard and seen it all and I'm not changing my ways. There's some more stuff I'd like to say, so here goes:

To those who's maintain that the writing isn't that great and that Stephenie Meyer seems to have gotten carried away with a thesaurus:

The writing may not be Pulitzer prose but how many books have you read that grabbed you inside and twisted? How many books have you read where the characters seemed real and you cared so much that when they cried you cried with them? How many books have made you feel anything more than mild amusement? How many books pulled you away from the TV?
To each his own of course but these books grabbed me. They made me feel and care and want to learn and explore and discover and do something with myself other than go with the flow. After reading them I stopped caring about whether my dreams were practical or not. They are mine and even if I fail at least I'll know I've tried. I'm not afraid to try something that in my gut I know is right for me, even if nobody else thinks so because if one doesn't believe in oneself nobody else will. How many books have woken you up like that?
So yes, I'm grateful to Stephenie Meyer for writing these books because I found them at the right time and they made a difference. Go read 'em. May be they'll do something for you too.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Dipping toes

Imagine going to the beach for the first time after a long while, walking in the warm sand toward the water, wondering all the while whether it's warm or cold, remembering how it felt last time, anticipating that first swim in the new yet familiar waves. Imagine finally getting there, standing just an inch away from the surf, wet sand under your feet, and as the new wave comes you touching the water with just the tips of your toes.
It's everything you've expected and not at the same time. It's the invitation and promise and when the anticipation becomes too much you charge in, splashing and making waves of your own. Or you tread slowly and timidly, watching as inches of your legs disappear under the surface and feeling the chill all the way through. Eventually you're in deep and you take off swimming, savoring the sensation of water washing over you and making you feather-light.
This year was just that for me, the first thrilling moments of discovering books again. I haven't read since high school really and now cracking the tomes and smelling the paper and ink and watching a world come alive around me through the magic of a printed word was like going to the beach for the first time in years and remembering how much I love it and wondering why I ever left.
One book did that. Or four, actually. I stayed up nights reading. I looked up places and people. I sought out the music mentioned in them and played the melodies over and over again. Those sounds made me feel like I've been missing out on the world until then. And I was.
I'm in deep now and getting ready to swim. The waters are vast and I'm only now starting out. At least now I know where to look for me.