It was pretty nice to let out my feelings about all these stories that I enjoyed (most of the time). I think I empathize very strongly with just about anything which is why I often find myself clinging on to this stuff. I really enjoy stories, but sometimes I find it hard to focus or move on or not cling to the sad and happy stuff. Especially when I read, I almost feel like I’m in a daze, half absorbed into the imagined world when I read something. Though I’ve found this happens more often with tv now that there’s Netflix and I can marathon seasons of a show.
Anyways I have lots of feelings.
I hope you enjoyed my ramblings. I wrote them all in a single night, so I’m not sure if there will be more in the future or not, as I didn’t really form a habit or anything.
Though I can guarantee there will be more inelegantly explained drawn out text posts about my feelings and stuff that’s sticking on my brain making me feel happy or dazed or anxious. That’s what perpetual thoughts is really all about after all 😉
I read these because I saw the trailer for divergent and I wanted to check out the movie, but not before reading the book (since the book is usually better anyways). I wasn’t disappointed. I think it’s an interesting world and I liked the characters. I was proud of myself for reading something that was upsetting and addressed death so much without becoming anxious or panicked. It felt like I had some control over what I could enjoy instead of being too fragile to watch or read anything that might be upsetting. However, I finished Allegiant two days ago and I still feel pretty heart broken. The last time I think I cried so hard during reading a book was my first time through TFIOS. I don’t know how they will make that last novel into a movie it’s so heartbreaking. I did find an interview with the author where she discussed her rational for the heartbreaking-est bit but I still tried to find fan fiction that ended it differently, to put my poor heart at ease (I normally don’t read fan fiction so this was stretching for me, I actually also did this with Life Unexpected).
My feelings are all jumbled up inside my throat still.
I really did enjoy divergent though, even if the other two were a bit upsetting.
I wouldn’t have written that ending though. I still don’t want to believe it.
I would just like to state that I think it’s cruel to kill a protagonist and relay it through the eyes of the person who loved them best.
I’ve had an unusual mix of media consumption as of late. I’ve been watching a lot of tv shows I had lukewarm feelings towards on Netflix while doing schoolwork. However, I liked some much more than others. In addition I have been doing quite a bit of reading over the holidays. So I’ve decided to write up some feelings on a bunch of these and queue them up. I’ll be tagging them with ‘Media Consumption Musings’ if you’d like to follow along.
They are making How I Live Now into a movie and I don’t know how I feel about that except a little choked up. I loved that book so much, I hope they do it justice. This on top of Ender’s Game and The Fault in Our Stars. Plus Catching Fire. I just have a lot of feelings. I don’t want to have my personal worlds ruined by poor adaptions. There’s just something special about books.
Two days ago I fell in love with this show and since then I’ve watched it all and now I miss it.
I read some fan fiction even.
The characters, at least most of them, seemed so good, crappy things happened to them but they really tried hard, and they really cared about each other. I really liked that.
Sometimes if I read a book or watch a movie I feel so invested, immersed, that its hard to stop thinking about once it’s over. Maybe some people felt that with Harry Potter, or their favourite book, but I feel it a lot when I read or watch. I think I am a deeply empathetic person and it’s easy to get sucked up into other peoples (fictional) lives. It can be really overwhelming sometimes because it kind of of makes all the awful things that happen in the world feel unbearable whenever you’re reminded of them. Something that I’ve found deeply helpful, is this video about dealing about sexual injustice. I haven’t done the activity yet, but I might in the future.
Anyways I got a bit off topic. It can feel good and bad to be sucked deeply into a story but it kind of feels sucky right now cause I have homework to go do and there isn’t any more of the story and that makes me feel a bit sad. I really wanted a happy ending for Lux and Eric.
Anyways, if anyone wants to talk about this show I’d be down.
Why so much emphasis on what goes into our mouths, and so little on what goes into our minds? What about having fun while exerting greater control over what goes into your brain? Why hasn’t a hip alliance emerged that’s concerned about what happens to our intellectual health, our country, and, yes, our happiness when we consume empty-calorie entertainment? The Slow Food manifesto lauds “quieter pleasures” as a means of opposing “the universal folly of Fast Life”—yet there’s little that seems more foolish, loudly unpleasant, and universal than the screens that blare in every corner of America (at the airport, at the gym, in the elevator, in our hands). “Fast” entertainment, consumed mindlessly as we slump on the couch or do our morning commute, pickles our brains—and our souls.
In our leisure moments, whenever we have down time, we should turn to literature—to works that took some time to write and will take some time to read, but will also stay with us longer than anything else. They’ll help us unwind better than any electronic device—and they’ll pleasurably sharpen our minds and identities, too.
To borrow a cadence from Michael Pollan: Read books. As often as you can. Mostly classics.
Aim for 30 minutes a day. You can squeeze in that half hour pretty easily if only, during your free moments—whenever you find yourself automatically switching on that boob tube, or firing up your laptop to check your favorite site, or scanning Twitter for something to pass the time—you pick up a meaningful work of literature. […]
If you’re not reading slowly, you’re doing yourself—and your community—a great wrong. As poet Joseph Brodsky said in his 1987 Nobel Prize acceptance speech, “Though we can condemn … the persecution of writers, acts of censorship, the burning of books, we are powerless when it comes to [the worst crime against literature]: that of not reading the books. For that … a person pays with his whole life; … a nation … pays with its history.”
You know something? As lovely as this sounds in theory. As catchy as that motto is. No.
Let me tell you about classics, long, thousand page novels, spiraling stories about love and betrayal and society and repression. I can tell you about them because I’ve read lots and lots and lots of them. Name one and I’ve probably read it. If I haven’t, I probably will. But I didn’t love all of them. I didn’t even like quite a few of them, and fewer still have changed my life or bettered my person.
The books that stayed with me and that I value reading are the ones that make me feel something, the ones that make me, if only momentarily, escape to a different sort of life. Sometimes it’s short stories. Sometimes it’s old and sometimes it’s contemporary and sometimes it’s something in between. It’s Richard Yates’s trembling middle class suburbia. It’s Colette’s free spirit and petulant eroticism. It’s David Wojnarowicz’s rage and desperation, which you will never, ever find in an English Literature curriculum. It’s stories about sex and seemingly unremarkable people’s extraordinary moments.
And you know something? I read them fast, on subways, in between places, for moments at a time. Or I read them for hours in bed with a cup of tea. It doesn’t matter—reading isn’t something to be ritualized, fetishized, it’s something you do for the pure joy of it. And sometimes it isn’t books. It’s essays, blog posts, even heart breaking 140 characters or less, tweets.
So: Read. When you want to. Mostly good books. But always ones that make you feel, think, and long to be alive. Not to keep the canon of 100 greatest books of all time alive, but to know, to remember, that you’re human, that you feel—that you’re not alone.
YES YES YES YES YES
That feeling specific to dreams where everything you long for works out perfectly and yet it is still tinged by the fact that deep down you know it’s not real