First post and I am completely drawing a blank. I was thinking all day of what I was going to write and now all I can think of is that I am the biggest narcissist ever. To be completely honest, I hate blogs. I think that in most cases its silly people who weave silly stories to make them believe that they have a quirky little life when in actual fact they are spending too much time typing away to actual live an authentic quirky life.
So I suppose I sound like a complete hypocrite then since I have just started my own. On the off chance that somebody read this, I must let you know that I really am just writing for myself. The reason that I started this was because I have challenged myself to read the top 100 novels of all times. Of course, one can do this without letting the world know, but those are people with half decent memories and more motivation than I have in my pinkie finger.
I am willing to bet that I have the worst memory of all the 27 year old people in the world. I have gone on amazing, once in a lifetime trips and have beautiful photos to prove it, but ask me the name of the town where I was and I won't be able to answer you. I have a wonderful family and throughout the years my dad, mom, brother and I have most likely created some beautiful memories. The problem is that I all I remember is laughter and love, anything more specific than that and I am lost. I have dated amazing men, but without a couple of good hints I wont be able to tell you when and for how long we were together. In my 27 years I have been fortunate enough to encounter many many interesting and outrageous and brilliant people who have told me stories that have left me completely and utterly spellbound to the point where I have thought to myself, "I will never be the same person again!". Ask me to retell these stories and I will just give it my best shot until the point where I am overcome with embarrassment at my lackluster memory and will end up creating some sort on tall tale to pass on as someone else's.
Its not as though I have an actual medical problem, at least not according to the doctors I've asked. Its just who I am. My best friend who grew up near me has the same problem, so maybe there was something in the water. Aside from a few concussions as a kid and a slight bought of alcoholism as a bigger kid, I have no reason to be letting go of the information that I digest. I'm not concerned though and on the scale of issues that I could waste my time stressing out about, this falls way down on the list, somewhere after paying off my credit card and redoing the carpet in my bedroom.
However, if I am going to read the top 100 novels of all time, I would like to get something out of it. I want to absorb, contemplate, and revel in the stories that these talented authors have offered the world. I would like to remember how I felt when characters fell in love, lost their love, went to battle, reached their goals, fell short of expectations, and on and on and on....
So tonight I'm going to finish up reading the latest in chick lit smut in order to make way for books that matter. Im also going to download my list of books to read which Im hoping will be more exciting than overwhelming. Tomorrow I start on the first book!
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