… because it’s all very applicable to me as well.
Cup of Chica describes her relationship with her books: “reading them,” “avoiding them,” and “buying them,” which she translates into “possessing them.” I’ve never met the lady, yet anyone who’s seen my apartment might think she has psychoanalyzed me perfectly. That is until you browse the titles she lists and recognize they’re all way too sophisticated and interesting for me.
With one exception: Michael Cunningham’s The Hours because, as you may have heard, they made a movie out of it, a movie which I have still refused to see because I always intended to read the book. But, I didn’t want to read Cunningham’s novel until I had finished his inspiration for it, and while I have loved reading Virginia Woolf, I’ve had a really hard time getting through this one. I’ll start it, read 50 pages, get sidetracked, pick-it-up again, and realize I have to start from the beginning because I don’t remember anything. I’ll go back to it soon, and then maybe I can have the same experience as Chica, starting and stopping The Hours, not necessarily liking it along the way.
Oh … wait … Middlesex is on my nightstand too. Yay. I feel much better about myself.
Out of Focus 