There are days when I think: why do I blog? And then I start reiminiscing about some of my posts and it's like "Oh, yeah. Nothing better than "hearing" myself ramble in print". Doesn't matter much if it's interesting or not, it's just something I can do because it's all about me.
But another reason is that none of my "real" friends - you know, the ones I hang out with at work or at their house or at the bar - read romances, and this is a nice little place to chat about my favorite type of books, even if I'm just talking to myself. I need that outlet, because I am obsessed with romance novels. Seriously addicted.
But happily so. I have been to the bookstore twice in the last two days, and each time I left with a book. I seem to be in my contemporary phase, having purchased ones by Jill Shalvis and Sasha White. Now the point is, they're romances. These are the books that I love more than any other, and I have shelves packed beyond capacity to prove it. I'm looking at my Linda Howards, my Suzanne Brockmanns, my Janet Evanovichs, and I am remembering bits and pieces from many of them with great fondness. I LOVE them, sometimes so much I want to be sucked right into them. My heart has ached with the desire to be a part of these worlds, yet knowing outside of my imagination, it can never be realized. But the hope doesn't go away, and I continue to look for the next unforgettable love story, the one that will capture my attention and hold on tight.
On Tuesday, I went to a B&N that was out of my jurisdiction - in fact it was quite far from home - just because I felt the need to be in a bookstore. Oh, how wonderful the smell of books is! I didn't look at one romance. Nope, instead, I wanted to see what I was "missing". I randomly meandered through the aisles, stopping here and there, or actually going down a full row and grabbing every book that caught my eye. I must have been there an hour, and it was one of those experiences that makes you happy just because you're doing what you love best, which in this case is looking at books. I had no plans to buy anything, and I didn't, yet I reveled in the texture of the pages, the smell of the ink on the page, the hint of Starbucks coffee in the air. The music department was playing a hypnotic mix of music, some jazzy, others catchy yet soulful ballads, and in that hour, there wasn't anywhere else I wanted to be. I also learned that as much as I think I should be reading intellectual and thought-provoking fiction, it is just not my cuppa tea.
Where am I eventually going with all of this? Nowhere specific, other than to say that loving to read is a beautiful thing, and it doesn't matter what captures your attention, what calls your name, as long as you're emerged in a good story, it can truly be a little piece of heaven on earth. For me, it's the romance novels, and has been for over 20 years. I know that it is a love affair that will never die, because it is too much a part of me, and I will gladly nurture it for the rest of my life.
How do you feel about books?
Labels: reading books
