goingnowherefast

I’m obsessed with second chances, do overs, and in general fresh starts. Maybe its just a quirk easily explained by the lack of permanence in my life. I’m 21 (and a half as of yesterday) years old. I’ve lived in different 6 states (and even more different cities). That’s nothing compared to some people I know, but still. Try explaining that to people who have lived in the same town all their lives. If you’ve never packed up your life and started over you just cant sympathize. It’s hard building new relationships with people. These things take time. And it seems just as I think I get it down, my life is turned on end again. Therefore, I’m obsessed. I get restless, I want change…to the extent I sabotage. I push away. That feeling, that second chance, that fresh start, that chance to reinvent. I find it next to impossible to complete anything. The excitement of starting over outweighs the finishing. The only thing I find joy in finishing is another book. But then its more the act of checking that off the list and starting on the next thing.

I never could write in a journal. Never been successful with the blogging either. I’d see the pages I had filled with thoughts and memories and the restlessness would kick in. Most of all, I wanted to believe I had changed. Everytime I started a new journal, or move to a new town. I’d look back on who I was and I’d think…I’m going to do things differently. I’ve learned from mistakes. But again and again. I hadn’t, I haven’t. Guess this is the part where I accept what I have and make the best of it. But frankly, I’m scared shitless. This is new ground. Acceptance. ha. Wouldn’t that be the mature, adult thing to do?

On the other hand, whenever I opened a new journal to fill it with my thoughts I’d look at the blank pages and think “don’t fuck this up” Often times, I’ve gotten in the habit of never writting on the first page. Even in school notebooks. It’s like nothing I could do would be good enough. Because everytime I opened it, there it would be. The sign I hadn’t changed. Nothing was different. It’s like changing your hair after you get out of a bad relationship. What’s outward apperances going to change? It’s the inside I need to convince.

That aside…books. My only love and only constant in my life. (The pathetic quality to that statement is not lost on me) Finished Frewin Jones’ The Faerie Path and have started book two The Lost Queen. I like the story. It’s sweet. It’s a feel good story. The characters are likeable. The plot isn’t to predictable. Tracy and I were talking (har de har, i know…when are we not.) and I’ve decided the reason I love Stephenie Meyer. At the base…its a simple story. With just enough dramatic plot lines and brillantly developed characters to make it great. My friend Allison was disturbed by the books. She saw it as this impossible love story. What’s thats saying to the rest of us? Most couples don’t have a bella/edward kind of love. Nothing’s as sweet as fiction. For those of you that do. I hate you. jk. but seriously, how long you think its going to last? (that came out overly bitter.) I’ve seen love. And I’ve seen basic tolerance between two people to inconvenienced to actually seperate and, god forbid, be happy. Guess you get used to the having someone. It’s hard being alone again. And I’ve seen people sort of between the two (I think this is the majority of those I know.) I like the happily ever afters. It’s like the universe is in order. If only it worked that way.

Speaking of feel good, happily ever afters…oh yes, I’ve discovered more paranormal romance. Kathy Love (that is sooo not her real name, rolls eyes) I just finished My Sister is a Werewolf which is every bit as awesome as it sounds. heartbubbles. I read it out of order because well I like female protagonist and frankly [rest of post cut off because internet cut out, ugh]

talk about a busy and sleepless few days. friday and saturday I spent at the gig harbor Relay For Life. I finished the queen betsy series. I was 3 pages from the end of undead and unpopular when I lost my light source. (i guess since it was midnight they decided to dim the lights so people could sleep and the luminaria lit the track.) we left a blow up mattress in the back of my mom’s burb so I read my 3 pages in the car before curling up to rest. I woke up shortly after 3. Not sure how or why, but I was wide away. since it was still to dark to read I walked the track with my ipod. I don’t remember the last time I’ve watched a sunrise. it was awesome. I just walked and walked and felt so…i don’t know. by 6 the thing that finally stopped me were the blistered forming on my heels. ouch. so I rested and started undead and uneasy. I ate my weight in pancakes and walked more. I finished the second half of my book after I returned home. then I started annette blairs Gone With A Witch, which I just finished. Now I’m working on Melissa Marr’s Ink Exchange.
I read her first book Wicked Lovely a few months ago. I really like the sudoseries but Marr is hard to read. At the risk of sounding rude, she’s a great story teller but not a great writer. her stories are difficult to get into. they aren’t coherent. that’s the risk with paranormal and science fiction. if you create a new world you can’t expect your reader to just jump in without a little lead in. its like starting a movie in the middle. with Wicked Lovely by the time I had a grasp of who’s who the plot completely threw me off. certainly wouldn’t recommend that book, but I believe in second chances. Marr’s stories have so much potential, maybe second times a charm? ill be sure to let you know. another day, another book

edit: Finished Ink Exchange and was less disappointed but not quite at a “love.” Since I spent the 300 odd pages of Wicked Lovely figuring out the who’s who it wasn’t so bad this time. In all the writing was even better. Still…something bothered me. It had all the makings of a good story, so why do Marr’s tales bother me so. I’ve narrowed it to two possibilities. first, she breaks the rules. not that theirs anything wrong with that but she doesnt do it well. Normal book plot, character building, crisis/problem created, shit meet fan, and then happily ever after. ok, maybe its not quite that neat but you get my drift. Marr’s books go more…introduce characters but make very vague references to who they actually are and why they are revelant to story, crisis/problem, shit meet fan, introduce more characters, introduce more crisis/problems, establish unbelievable love triangles (ill get back to that one), shit meet fan…again, spend 100 pages of wtf, resolve nothing and leaving reading feeling incomplete and confused. yeah… so second possibility. Unbelieveable love triangles. you can have your cake and eat it too. marr laughs at this and says, “watch me” Not only am i unconvinced to anything im confused. Wicked Lovely she get both guys and its weird. Ink Exchange she gets no one and its weird. I’m not giving up. like i said. soooooo much potential. this one had it for a while. this shit met fan and met fan and met fan….and everything was very unresolved.

On a personal note, my brother of eighteen years (who ive shared a bathroom with for most of that) learned my first name today. At first it was one of those…youre kidding right? moments…but he was serious. and blames me going by my middle name as an attempt to confuse him. like its hard. So here’s how this discovery was made. When I moved to Washington about a year and a half ago I started going by my first name. I had always gone by a shortened form of my middle name growing up. So we’re at Relay and one of the ladies asked my brother “what’s your sisters name again?” and he had to stop and think….”what is she calling herself these days” as if i made up a name. which he thought i did. So I tell him, no thats my actual name. You would think my initials on the backpack he’s borrowed or when they called my name at my high school graduation that he would have caught on. no. not my little brother. And my mother wonders why i dont have a better relationship with my brother, well mom, might help if he knew my name. I’m going to get some sleep. Class tomorrow. Meanwhile, I’m finishing Kat Richardson’s Poltergeist.