Words, Words, Words

I'm not good at a lot of things. Some people can run fast. I can't. Some people can add 2 + 2 and I can't do that without a calculator. But there's ones thing I can do and thats read the heck out of a book.

I've always loved to read. It's easy, as effortless as breathing....without that sounding too cocky. I love delving into a world that I'll never be apart of. I love losing myself in another time, slowly falling in (or out of) love with characters. Gah that sounds cheesy. But guys. Come on. I go to Veritas. I have to love books or face shunning.

Like I said, I've always loved to read. But I always hated when a teacher would ruin a book with "What did the author really mean by this?" or "What is the symbolism of this super minor detail that seems insignificant but really your whole grade depends on it?" HAHA no. I'm about 104% sure that most authors thought it sounded nice when they wrote it. Thats it. The character walking down the stairs does not represent the declining economy. The man sitting on the bench waiting for the bus is not an analogy of America's laziness. Its not that complicated.The guy going down the stairs? He just wants to go to the kitchen. The man waiting for the bus? His car broke down this morning, hence the bus.

But recently, I've fallen in love with books even more. It's not just the story anymore. Its the words. About a year ago I read Atonement by Ian McEwan. I hated it with a burning passion. The story was so stupid. Like really? I hated it. When I finished it, I thought well this going on my shelf for all of eternity where it can be unloved and alone forever so it can feel my hate. But then it started to nag me. I kept thinking of the vocabulary and the seamless weaving of the words. Now, I'm really bad with grammar and all that stuff, so if you see me commit an error of some grammatical type, mea culpa. Anyway, the words in a book can tell a story of their own. That sounds dumb because duh a story is words. “The cost of oblivious daydreaming was always this moment of return, the realignment with what had been before and now seemed a little worse. ”  See? How does that not strike you as beautiful? Yall have a problem. 

Or how about this.

“There did not have to be a moral. She need only show separate minds, as alive as her own, struggling with the idea that other minds were equally alive. It wasn't only wickedness and scheming that made people unhappy, it was confusion and misunderstanding, above all, it was the failure to grasp the simple truth that other people are as real as you. And only in a story could you enter these different minds and show how they had an equal value. That was the only moral a story need have.” 

And this?

“And though you think the world is at your feet, it can rise up and tread on you.”

Ok I'm done. But how can you not love words? They ebb and flow, they howl and whisper, they hate and they love. 

I still hate poetry though. But theres this and its kinda beautiful so theres that.

Wow I literally wrote a novel. Props to you if you made it this far. 

Cancer Sucks

I meant to write this last month but oh well. Better late than never.

Five years ago, I was in 7th grade. I really don't remember much about 7th grade because it was just rough all around. Thank you Jesus that I don't look like I did then. But one thing I do remember is the day when I found out my mom had cancer. I remember my mom and dad sitting in the living room and calling my brothers and me in. That was serious because we never use that room for anything ever. I don't remember what they said because that was a blur. All I knew was my mom had cancer. 

It was weird. I had always thought that when someone got cancer, they would just look different. Like you could see the cancer. But no she was still mom. She never had to do chemo but she did have to do radiation. But that still sucked. She would come home from the treatments and go straight to bed. 

I never heard her complain once. 

And here we are, 5 years later and no cancer. God is good.

My mom is a beautiful woman. And no, I'm not writing this because I'm trying to suck up to her or get her to let me have a later curfew. I'm writing this because she is the best. I don't think you guys understand. I love that she asks me if her outfit matches. I love that we swap shoes. I love that when Free Bird comes on the radio, she turns it up as loud as it'll go. Happy belated birthday mom. I love you.