Books and Gnomes

Yeah. So, a little embarassed about that post the other day. But, like so many other emo posts I've written in my time, it stands as a stumpy, gnomeish monument to my bouts of insecurity. I wish I didn't have so many of these monuments in my blogging garden, it's starting to look like the yard of a hobo. I'm ashamed that I pull Caspian, who is even-tempered and very logical (if a little hot-headed), along with me on these spiralling descents into neuroticism.

I'm beginning to suspect that my very nature will prevent me from having a blissful life. Blissful, to me, describes an ubiquitous joy. Oh, I'm sure my life will have very high highs, but there will be corresponding low lows.

Last weekend, my parents stopped by and unloaded about 10 large boxes full of books that used to reside in my childhood bedroom. There is some manga in there, and plenty of literary detritus from my various obsessions (Amish language culture, wilderness evasion, 1920s romance, American life from 1840-1890, etc.). There's also a box full of Sailor Moon video cassettes. Combined with Caspian's eclectic selection (the occult, singing, singing, singing, dark fantasy, diction and pronounciation of English, German, French, and Italian, music, more singing), we have a library's worth of books. Arrgh, I wish I had more time! If only I could spend slow weeks going through all of them and relive the eras of my life during which I originally read them. Work hinders so many of my personal goals. Not only does it take up an enormous amount of time, but it takes a lot of energy that has to be recouped in the form of naps. Sadfase.