Book Fetishist... Maybe

I'm a total hussy for books. This is proven fact. I know a lot of people who say they LOVE reading and I do too, but that's not necessarily what I mean when I say I love books. I love everything about and around books; from start to finish. From the writing, editing, and printing to the typeface and design of their dust jackets. Books complete me. Books are the bread to my butter, or the other way around. If I hadn't met J, books would have occupying the opposite side of the bed, in neat little gold-leaved stacks. But let me back up for a moment.

So, the great thing about depression (yes, you read that correctly), is that when you finally decide to throw off its rusty shackles, life greets you with all the splendor you've been denying yourself while wallowing. Books, music, art, movement!  Colors, sounds, fuzzy animals: they're all waiting to be rediscovered! It's like I'd forgotten how to feel passionately about anything, and that is truly tragic... especially when it comes to books. I mean, I haven't sat and read a book in what seems like forever! Oh sure, I'd pick one up and go through the motions, but what good are books if reading doesn't inspire you? If it doesn't move you, doesn't plumb the depths of your soul, make you think, or create belly laughs? Reading while overcome with apathy is fruitless and cheapens the experience on the whole. Which is why it gives me great joy to confess that books are, once again, rocking my world!

It's almost a bit overwhelming, actually. Almost. I just look at my bookshelf, at all of the books that have been collecting dust and think, "Holy crumb, I'd better get started!" And THEN I remember all the books I've already read, like old friends, beckoning me to revisit their pages and rehabilitate my deprived psyche while cradled in the loving arms of well-worn end pages. They are my (non living, breathing) home base.  It's a beautiful thing.

Since starting to, metaphorically, kick my own ass out of this funk (for lack of a better word) I've been in, I have made my way through an excellent book series (Prophecy of the Sisters: teen fantasy that centers loosely on alternative biblical history.  Super snazzy! Loved it, ate it up, will read it again) and started a non-fiction book from the library that I'm tearing through.  My current read is from one of my most favored (and geekiest) of categories: books about other books.  Yep, I'm currently reading a book about someone reading a book, or several, as the case may be. Reading Women by Stephanie Staal is essentially one woman's experience with re-taking a class on feminist literature and theory as an adult with real world experiences that she didn't have when she first encountered the same reading material.  She laughs, she cries, she listens to a lot of whiney college girls rattle around the ring of fanatical feminist theory as she tries to rediscover herself in a more realistic context for application.  If anything, this book is merely an editorialized reading list for me and any other reader who is a lover and an eater of books. Especially books on religion, feminism, or history. It's possible that this book is actually creating more work for me, but right now it's a good kind of work that I absolutely relish.

Before I switch gears, I have to plug this great tumblr I've started following. It's true to it's name and always leaves me salivating: bookshelfporn

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As a sidenote, does it ever bum you out when you go to set your alarm and it tells you how many hours you have before it's going to wake you up? This happens to me constantly. I'm pretty sure I'd sleep more soundly if my phone had not just told me I only have four hours and change to do so.  Setting it well before it needs to go off is even worse!  I had to reset my alarm on my way to my car after work and it informed that in exactly 13 hours I'd be heading back to work. Not cool. In short, alarm clocks are rubbish. [/rant]

robin

I am a Nerd.

Or
Fanfiction is a Gateway Drug

Nom nom nom...

So, I spend about nine hours a day talking on the phone while at work. That's my job.  This is unadulterated,  unexaggerated fact. Most of my calls are simple.  The wham bam thank you ma'am of the cellular world. Buy every once in a while I get the little 97 year old lady who's calling in trying to figure out how to use the new smartphone/tablet she bought so she and her cat, Mr.  Wiggles, can Skype while she's on vacation hunting vampires in Romania.  While I totally just added the bit about vampires for flair, the other stuff is actually pretty spot on.

And so, it is in these instances that I find myself concocting different ways to cut my own ears off while this woman tries to figure out why she can't have the name crazycatlady at gmail dot com as her new email address (it has been taken, no doubt, by the last woman I assisted). What does one do in times like these? Apart from the occasional affirmation that you're still on the line,  you've not a lot to do. After finishing my followups and drawing several incarnations of this woman being nommed on by the previously mentioned vampires,  I find myself at a loss.  And then,  epiphany! Why waste precious time twittling my thumbs when I could be doing something much more productive. I could be writing fanfiction.

Fo those of you unaware of this most noble and nerdy pursuit, fanfiction is the blatant kidnapping of characters from your favorite movie, TV show, book, comic, musical group, whatever and forcing them into all sorts of hilarious or ridiculous situations of your own design.  It's like writing short stories using pre-packaged, pre-established characters. It's pretty fun, actually.  The best part is pairing said characters off in ways that the have not been previously explored.  This, my friends, is called slash fic.  Romantic entanglements of characters that would make even the original creators blush.  It's fairly addictive stuff. This art form reaches it's true pinnacle, however, with crossover fic, where rules are pretty much flipped the bird and suddenly you have characters from some high-brow British historical series having lengthy petting sessions with your favorite X... man. This is the good stuff folks.

All ridiculousness aside, writing fic can actually be a great exercise for any writer looking for a little fun.  It allows someone who might not have their own ideas yet (but has the thirst to create and develop some skill) to practice plot and character development building on a pre-existing foundation in an atmosphere that is supportive and encouraging.  It's all fun and games, no one profits, no theft involved, just a good way to flex the proverbial pen with a few familiar faces.

It also has the potential to create that warm fuzzy feeling in your chest.  You know: pride.  Confidence in one's self related directly to the fact that you have created something of value (even if that value is simply of the entertainment persuasion).  This sense of accomplishment is important and shouldn't be overlooked. As someone who used to thrive on a false sense of accomplishment created by completing menial tasks in a virtual reality, the tangible sense of fulfillment that comes with the creation of the creative is pretty much invaluable.

Baby steps.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaanyway, My power keeps flickering, a result of the melting snow and ice left over from the ridiculous storm we've had over the last few days. So, I think I'm going to go arrange the blankets, check the matches and count the cans in our storm shelter one more time.

Adieu,

robin

Think of it like the weather...

I've made it no secret that I've been struggling, but it gets so much easier to find help when you have a support system and access to resources like these:

This is a letter written by British actor Stephen Fry, whom I adore, to a girl who had written him for suggestions on coping with her own depression.

I was also shown this this week, which was helpful... =)

Oh, and to make sure my interwebs etiquette is up to snuff, I got the pictures of this letter over at the To Write Love On Her Arms tumblr (here). They're good people and if you ever need help, are a fantastic resource.  There are many (thankfully), one only has to have the desire to seek them out. 

robin