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(via taylormariedoodles)
![[[MORE]] Alone I searched the depth of the internet… dear god, please let me find something to entertain my mind, anything other then this. Somewhere in this wild goose chase I discovered a graphic novel. Blankets.
After only seeing a few images I knew this is what I was searching for. I became obsessed within an instant. Thumbing through the endless reviews, soaking up every drop of information I could find about… Blankets.
I need it. I didn’t want it, I needed it.
A few clicks away and I was at the checkout. 5-8 business days. F-I-V-E days? E-I-G-H-T days? And so Blankets became my official introduction to Amazon Prime. Because 2 days was about as long as I would last.
Purchased. Now the wait.
I daydreamed about when it would arrive as I went about my daily obligations. When it started getting closer I sat, refreshing the tracking information… is it here? is it closer? where is it?
I slept for 47 minutes last night.
6:02 am… it was in route all it needed to do was make it to my doorstep.
Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.
12:00 pm… by some miracle my eyes had shut and my mind slipped into unconsciousness.
12:21 pm. The doorbell rang, aggressively
And like most normal people who haven’t slept in 2 weeks I awoke immediately into tears. If only the UPS man knew the fear he gives me every time I hear the doorbell.
I waited until I felt comfortable to open the door. & there it was carelessly left on the filth of my porch.
Finding a good book for me is like adoption. I don’t love many books but the ones I do love, I love so strongly. Some have said that reading is my disability but as most of my followers know, spelling is my true downfall. I’ve never met anyone who reads like me. In High School I took English classes where everyone sat and read their own books and wrote about how they made them feel. I studied the other students as they plowed their way through literature like it was a race. In that class the average student read 20 books… and I read one.
I need to sit with it, to absorb some then stop. Let it fester, let the words melt into my mind creating new ideas, thoughts, knowledge, power. How was everyone else going so quickly? Sure maybe you understand what’s happening, maybe you can write a great paper on that book, but did you feel it? Another person sat down and wrote those words could you feel them? Could you feel the labor of another persons creative genius they choose to share with you?
This is why every book I’ve ever loved is also a coloring book to me. I can only read so much before my mind wants to explore more of what is being read. I reflect on their words as I stroke my Prismacolors across the edges of the book. & with each stroke I feel as though I’m adopting this book and now it is mine.
This behavior dates back to my first experiences in Catholic school. Religion books were the only books we were permitted to write in. It was intended to let us answer the few questions about our “faith” that were listed between chapters, but for me it meant I could create a work of art on every page. I’ll never understand why people thought I was so stupid. What was so stupid about expressing myself? Why was my art considered “defacing” the bible. Why did everyone see this as such a sin, why would God have given me the uncontrollable urge to create if he didn’t want me to use it?
I digress.
Here I was with my temporary escape.
You know why everyone loves art? Because it is an escape. When you watch a movie or a tv show, listen to music, or read a book, you can leave your life for a little into another world.
In times of great turmoil these vices didn’t always work for me. Nothing could distract me from reality. I’ve been so enthralled with my recent reality that I have to keep reminding myself that it is in fact real.
But, Blankets. Blankets let me run away. I studied the images, read the words, felt the emotions. Falling in love with Blankets was like falling in love with someone. I was nervous at the start, but I knew it was what I wanted. The more I read the more I wanted to read. The way the more you learn about someone the more you wanted to know. Some moments were so true it felt like it could have been written about me.
When it was over I wanted more. I felt hungry for more, the way when you loose someone you always feel hungry for their presence. Maybe I could go back and read it again? It would never be like the first time. The pages are never going to be as pressed as perfectly as they were the first time. The words though still good will not surprise me like the first time. The images still beautiful would not be nearly as exciting as the first time. But I still loved it. The way you still love someone even when you don’t have the rush of the first time.
…So here I am with this book, I’ve taken into my home, held in my arms, listened to, and fallen madly in love with. 592 pages was not enough. It’s not fair. Feeling the turn of the last page felt like bitter sweet betrayal. How could you just stop. It’s not fair that this book could just stop but my love for it, my infatuation with it could not.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/2aa2fe5fc5da796892addafe63c533fb/tumblr_mna80uSW1H1qbzk6io1_500.jpg)
The other day my boyfriend said “It’s like I’m dating a female Abed.”
Most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.
(Source: williamsandpond, via anniebo-nannie)
(Source: caseyboots)
