First, I feel more like writing these days. That doesn't mean I have been writing, necessarily. It’s just part of the returning curiosity that abandoned me during the school year. It is much too easy to focus on grades instead of actually learning anything. Perhaps the desire to write comes from the excessive journaling Summer Break allows.
Second, Doctor Who. By JOVE what an end to the season. I have so much admiration for Stephen Moffat, the entire cast and the production crew. The skill and passion that goes into making that show continually shines through.
Third, my family adopted two young cats, one of which never stops speaking cat-speak. We have (very shallow) conversations. Some of these conversations involve my feet being attacked at 5:30 in the morning.
There you go: brief update on my thoughts from the month. MOVING ON.
Now, The Voice: much better than American Idol, but people still sing with bad intonation. Yet it's addicting. And so awkward. So, So, Awkward. If it isn't evident, I love awkward. (Plus, my ears have a crush on Adam Levine's ability to sing in tune.)
Awkward. I love awkward.
I've done a bit of reading (the unintentional kind, where I wander around picking up books at random,) during the past two weeks. I just started A Farewell to Arms and I've been thinking about Hemingway and his life, and Europe and things. Also, I read Maureen Johnson's 13 Little Blue Envelopes, which has an amount of European backpacking. There's something that's so romantic about struggling in Europe, as though we would be okay, we would be perfect, if we could be that culture and have so little but be so far from normal.
I think they call that wanderlust. I think the reason I read is to sate my wanderlust, the reason I own books is to share worlds with my friends, and the reason I write is to build my own little countries and learn their languages.
