"there was nothing but scraps of words littered between her legs and all around her"

I haven't really had time lately for the internet. Saturday evenings are usually my catch up moments. I was reading a friend's blog and suddenly I'm craving the smell of crayons on a coloring book.

I've been reverting to my "old" self lately. High school me. Or some variant there of. It's a person I've actually missed greatly.

When I started at BYU, I thought books were everything. Then I moved away from home and suddenly people were everything. It's taken me five years, but I'm finally balancing back out. The pendulum has peaked on both sides, and is now maintaining a steady middle. Or at least has been for the past couple of weeks.

Since the end of February I've read: The History of Love, Everything Is Illuminated, The Hunger Games, The Book Thief, and currently, Catching Fire (the sequel to The Hunger Games).

The difference this go around is that my pretense is gone. I no longer feel the need to make a statement with the books I'm reading, something I felt necessary during my insecure teenage years, when I thought a strong understanding of the classics should far outweigh any gravitation toward modern authors. I'm reading what interests me.

Someone echoed a statement I haven't heard directed at me in years: "Wait, are you starting ANOTHER book? Didn't you just start that other one yesterday?" In my defense, the last two and the one I'm currently reading are all young adult novels. Not exactly the hardest thing to read, but one of my favorite genres by far. When I thought I wanted to be an editor, young adult novels were my career goal. They're just so adventurous. And these days, adventures outside my own routine life are exactly what I'm in need of most.

(p.s. the title of this post is a quote from The Book Thief.)