A New Perspective

My cats loved being held. Owen will purr contentedly as his eyes shift from the paintings, to the cabinets, to the gnat flying by. Sebastian will extend his neck as far as possible, in hopes of seeing what new sights and adventures lie just around the corner. A five foot elevation provides an entirely new perspective, a new way of seeing and experiencing the world. It’s no wonder cats enjoy leaping and climbing so much.

I'm apparently not allowed to mention my cats without an accompanying picture.

Children loved being held by their mothers and propped up on their father’s should. Already in awe of the world around them, being raised just a tad bit higher than their everyday experience is always unbelievably exciting.

It’s easy to forget how easy the attainment of some new perspective can be. You don’t need to physically move in order to gain new insight or a new vision, although climbing a mountain or flying over your hometown are both spectacular experiences. Reading a book, spending time in nature, observing strangers interact from a distance, having a meaningful conversation, and enjoying each individual moment to the fullest can have the same effect.

The weather has been incredible the past few weeks – sunny with highs in the mid-70s and a light breeze. There’s something about Spring that always makes me feel so much more alert, aware, and alive. The colorful flowers and their wafting scents, the bright sun pouring in through my open moon roof, the lively green leaves fluttering in the wind, the birds and the dogs and the children enjoying a day at the park. I love it all.

Reading a new book has the same power. Although I enjoy nearly all genres, light young-adult reads leave me less thoughtful, and deeper and research-heavy books drain me. Diverging from John Green and Robert Wright, I just finished reading a book on spirituality, meaning, and inspiration, Way of the Peaceful Warrior, which has altered my perspective more than anything else, in recent times. (I would highly recommend it to everyone, and will review it here in the next few days.) I’ve been in a weird funk for the past month or so, as if disconnected from everyone and caught in some perpetual existential crisis, getting too caught up in my own thoughts to step back and see how beautiful and humorous life truly is.

Getting lost in an inspirational story, laden with guidance, insight, and advice for life is the ultimate pick-up for me, the greatest escape. Despite knowing how to live a happy and fulfilling life, and tapping into all the facts I’ve learned in books, psychology courses, and from mentors, it’s not always as easy to habitually apply that knowledge to your own life. A refresher course here and there, whether it be through a mind-numbing conversation or amazing story, is often the perfect remedy for lethargy, loneliness, or hopelessness. Often times, all we need is a kick in the behind, a small reminder that we’re not alone in this world, that beauty exists right below our noses, and that there is some ultimate purpose beyond our comprehension.

Sometimes, all we need is a new perspective to realize how wondrous life really is.

Reading at the park. Win-win.

Never Stop Reading

Quote

‎”Cram your head with characters and stories. Abuse your library privileges. Never stop looking at the world, and never stop reading to find out what sense other people have made of it. If people give you a hard time and tell you to get your nose out of a book, tell them you’re working. Tell them it’s research. Tell them to pipe down and leave you alone”

-Jennifer Weiner

Time to Renew

As a child, I practically lived at the library. In elementary school, I would check out books during my breaks and sit alone under a tree, sheltered from the blistering Arizona sun, lost in another world. I voraciously waded through both calm and treacherous waters, funny books about school and friendship as well as stories about kidnapping and heartbreak. From early childhood through the end of junior high, books were my best friends, they were a means through which I could vicariously experience the trials of growing up without getting hurt myself. I could read, read, read, and reread. When I’d devoured every book at my small school library, I begged my dad to take me to the city library where I always struggled to haul an armful of gems back to the car.

When I reached high school, I focused on reading and analyzing only the books required for my honors, advanced placement, and dual-enrollment college courses. The library suddenly flickered and disappeared off my radar screen. The library? Doesn’t ring a bell. Each summer I would browse the bookshelves at the local used bookstores and Barnes & Noble searching for the young adult classics – How to Kill a Mockingbird, Farenheit 451, The Great Gatsby, The Scarlett Letter, One Hundred Years of Solitude, and dozens more. About half of these joined the ranks of my favorite books. I was grateful for the suggestions, for the new insights and perspectives. I loved class discussions and analyses, noticing the underlying themes and symbolism.

During my freshman year of college, I spent most of my time in my room. I studied, did homework, listened to music, talked to my best friend on the phone about how much I missed her, and spent more time than I’d like to admit watching MTV and the Discovery Channel. My roommate, on the other hand was always reading when she was in. One day she lent me her Janet Evanovich book – One for the Money, and I fell in love with reading all over again. She lent me more books, recommended other good authors, and within a few months I had acquired and breezed through countless new books and had an ever-growing to-read list. I read whenever and wherever possible. Since I didn’t have a car with me the first three years of college, I spent a substantial amount of time and money on half.com, ebay’s online bookstore.

Books were my vice. While my fellow students were out drinking and getting into trouble, I was excitedly purchasing new books and sitting in bed getting lost in those wonderful stories. Sometimes I feel like maybe I missed out on some vital stage of life, but other times I feel like others are the ones truly missing out. Anyways, in college I got in the habit of buying books, lots and lots of books. I was on full scholarship, my living expenses were covered by my parents’ education savings, so books seemed like a valuable investment, an appropriate reward.

My money in savings lasted me just up to graduation and monetary gifts temporarily replenished my account. However, since I’m not currently employed, books feel like an unnecesary expense. Thus, I’ve rediscovered my local library. The other day I printed out my 87-item to-read listen and ventured off to that massive house of literature. Although I didn’t remember exactly how to locate the books I was looking for and couldn’t find any from my list, I browsed the shelves for a good hour and picked up four books by authors I like. Luckily the card renewal process was as simple as a scan by the librarian and thankfully the checking-out process was simple self-scan. I feel like I’m ten again – traversing the aisles of musty-smelling books brings back so many memories and awakens the excitement of new adventures, knowledge, and insights.

Even though I love being able to say I’ve read every book on my shelf, I guess it’s not necessary for every book I’ve read to proudly sit on display. I think the library is well on its way to becoming one of my favorite places again, although if I read any utterly spectacular books, I don’t think I’ll be able to help but purchase a lovely copy for my beloved bookshelf.

Provocation and Privacy

“A book is the only place in which you can examine a fragile thought without breaking it, or explore an explosive idea without fear it will go off in your face. It is one of the few havens remaining where a man’s mind can get both provocation and privacy.” - Edward P. Morgan

An omnivoracious biliophile

My name is Erin, I’m 22, and I’m a bibliophile – one who loves reading and collecting books. It’s a condition from which I can never hope to recover; it’s in my blood and has taken a strong hold of my mind. I absolutely love books and, over the course of my existence, I have amassed a exorbitant collection in which every size, color, and genre is represented.

My name is Erin and I’m an omnivoracious reader. In sociology, an omnivore is one who fancies all types of music, movies, books, or foods, rather than having one particular genre or style take preference. Voracious refers to an insatiable appetite and excessive eagerness; the word is often used to describe an avid and obsessive reader. Being a book omnivore who can never get enough, I think it’s entirely appropriate to label myself an omnivoracious reader.

Sometimes my absorbtion into writings leads to curious side effects…

My name is Erin, and I regularly experience fiction lag - a temporary change in personality that occurs after being deeply involved in a book. The works captivate me, seduce me, convince me that we’re meant to spend our lives together, and then the story ends and it breaks my heart. You don’t interrupt a friend in the midst of a whirlwind romance nor after a traumatizing breakup; neither should you disturb a spellbound friend during or shortly after their bibliphilic affair.

My name is Erin, and I’m not looking for a 12-step program nor a cure. Like other afflictions, my obsession with books sometimes takes priority over other aspects of my life – relationships, school, eating. I’m addicted to the feeling, the consumption, but even more so I’m addicted to the results. Reading boosts my intelligence, builds my vocabulary, increases my understanding of people, cultures, and ideas, challenges my critical thinking, and stimulates my imaginative energy.

My biggest vices are book-buying and obsessive reading. What are yours?

Bringing fiction to life

If you could bring one fictional character to life for a day, who would you choose?

The post-a-day prompts generally don’t catch my interest, but I couldn’t help thinking about this one. I absolutely love reading and I develop a strong sense of attachment to many characters in the books I read. However, when thinking about it, no one in particular comes to mind; even after pondering the question all day I couldn’t decide who I would want to spend a day with.

Maybe I should start with a broader question: What are some of my favorite books?

Well, I really like James Frey’s books: A Million Little Pieces, My Friend Leonard, and Bright Shiny Morning. But all the characters are addicted to hard drugs, aggressive and violent, emotionally unstable, and generally down on their luck. They are fascinating people to observe and analyze, but I would run and curl up under my bed if I were to look out my peephole and see any of them standing outside my door.

Roberto Bolaño is an another favorite author, but again, as much as I love the characters they’re all delusional drifters and nut cases. I would love to hear firsthand about the “visceral realism” movement and serial murders in Mexico, but I am pretty sure that reading about it has sufficiently satiated my curiosity. The one character who I might consider meeting is Hans Reiter, an awkward and towering young toehead with a passion for reading and and the sea. I think he and I would get along swimmingly, yet I’m not so sure about that.

I really enjoy Janet Evanovich’s hilarious and action-filled Stephanie Plum series, but the protagonist has a uncanny attraction towards explosions, hitmen, and crazy love triangles. I think I’ll pass. But what about Emily Griffin and Kerry Reichs’ comedic romance novels? No, too much drama for me.

The characters in Mitch Albom’s books and Donna Van Liere’s Christmas Hope series are kind souls…possibly too kind. I imagine it would be depressing to experience a day full of unconditional love and kindness and then be tossed back into the real world, which tends to be a bit more cruel. 

The circus workers in Water for Elephants? Nah. The Holocaust victims in Anne Frank’s Diary, Night, and Man’s Search for Meaning? I don’t think so. The hungry zoo animals in The Life of Pi? The petty thief in Something Missing? The sexy players and bitches in Harlequin romance novels? Harry Potter? Edward and Bella? Anyone from classic British and American literature? No, none of these really appeal to me.

Fictional characters are just that. Fiction. Not meant to be brought to life. As realistic as a book may seem as you’re reading it, the characters are make-believe and a generally gross exaggeration of reality.

Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love befriending characters in books and briefly entering and experiencing a piece of their life, but I would never want to personally meet a single one. Characters belong in your head; they should reside in the deepest depths of your imagination. Just envision the horror if you were to see your favorite character at the local café hiding behind a book that reveals every detail of your own life. Books are full of secrets; they peel away every layer of a person, exposing a vulnerable and naked individual. I would never share my deepest secrets with someone I barely knew and I would never expect someone to do the same for me. 

If a genie every showed up and granted me a wish, I would wish for more books full of wonderful characters, but I would never wish for those individuals to materialize and take part in my own life story.

Date a girl who reads

“Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”

— Rosemary Urquico

Fragile Thoughts, Explosive Ideas

A book is the only place in which you can examine a fragile thought without breaking it, or explore an explosive idea without fear it will go off in your face. It is one of the few havens remaining where a man’s mind can get both provocation and privacy.                               

-Edward P. Morgan

 

Pursuing your passions

When I was a child, my mother continually stressed the importance of three things: education, reading, and doing what you love. Although these categories have some overlap, each has independently become a strong pillar in my life.

Education: I attended a private Catholic school from kindergarten through high school. I learned a lot in school and was continually challenged by my teachers. However, beyond that, I’m highly self-motivated when it comes to learning. I’m that overachiever who the teacher admired and the classmates resented. I didn’t do it for the attention – actually I hated the attention! It was because I simply loved leaning and continually building up my vast collection of knowledge.

Reading: My parents read to me everyday as a child, often far more than once a day. They instilled a deep-set love of books in me and my siblings. In fact, my younger sister’s first words were “want book.” (Honest to God!) As a child, I regularly sat in my room for hours on end with my beloved books; to contrast, most of my friends spent their “alone time” with their bedroom TV set, a luxury I never had nor desired. Although I’ve gone through a few brief periods during which reading was placed on the back burner, I have always returned to my favorite pastime, with a growing fervor each time. As I have expanded my mind and refined my tastes, I’ve grown to love reading more than I ever dreamt possible; even more than I loved “The Very Hungry Caterpillar,” “Where the Sidewalk Ends,” and “The Giver.” Well, maybe not more.

Passions: My mother always told my brother, sister, and me to do what we love and that everything else would follow. My mom was a walking example. She had been a school teacher briefly, but then chose to stay home to raise her children. She later started a home-based business selling educational books. She fervently believed in the product and in the cause – promoting education. Although she originally pursued the book business as supplemental income, she quickly built an empire. She managed a huge team, was always a national leader in terms of sale, had a six-figure income and – most importantly – absolutely loved what she did.

The pursuit of money as a means to anything usually means that someone, at lease momentarily, has taken their eyes off of what they really want. The pursuit of money as a means to anything should always be secondary to the pursuit of that same thing.

The other day, I was browsing the posts shared by my fellow post-a-day bloggers and came across a post entitled Never work a day in your life! Like myself, the author has heard many variations of the concept “chose a job you love and you will never have to work a day in your life.” What I particularly liked about this post was that the idea was backed up with results from a research study.

The research was based on the analysis of 1,500 people at two points of time, at the beginning and the end of a twenty year period. The participants were broken into two categories:

  1. Members of first category said that they would pursue money first and follow their passions later. Over 1,245 people fell into this group.
  2. The second category consisted of individuals who claimed that they would seek their passions and interests first and trust that money and success would follow. There were 255 people in this group.

In a follow-up study conducted twenty years after the initial groups were formed, 101 of the 1,500 participants had become millionaires. Could it mere coincidence that 100 of the 101 millionaires were from the second category – the group who felt that pursuing passions was more important than pursing money?

I doubt it. I think that what my mother and other wise individuals throughout history have taught us is entirely true. When you focus on what you love, you willingly exert more time and energy into those projects. Engaging in work that has personal meaning can also affect those around you. When your passion and happiness burns brightly, others are more likely to believe in and support your cause.

Heed your mother’s advice. Pursue your passions. Do what you love.

What are your passions? What would you do with your life if money were no issue?