Down time

The past few weeks have been nuts. I've been busy with choir, the fashion show, audits at work, and general debauchery when time allowed. Well, my constant running around finally caught up with me and I got sick. Poop.

I must admit that it's been really relaxing spending the last two nights doing absolutely nothing. As soon as I get home from work I put on my pajamas, put the kettle on for a cup of tea, wrap myself up in a blanket, and read. I always forget how much I love to read; unfortunately, the book I'm reading right now is most likely going to be an utter disappointment.

I do have to say, though, that I am extremely picky when it comes to fiction. It's not uncommon for me to yell at a book and hurl it across the room when I've finished reading it. I think this reaction is because it's very difficult for me to read a novel without feeling like the plot is completely manufactured and awkwardly presented to the reader to accept as reality. I struggle making that statement, though, because essentially a work of fiction is, by nature, fabricated so I shouldn't be so picky...but I am.

**I will also note that there is just as much terrible non-fiction out there, as well. I may be a pretentious book critic, but I am not a genre-snot.**

I was lent The Double Bind by Chris Bohjalian by the VP of my company when I told him how much I love The Great Gatsby, as it follows a made-up descendent of Tom and Daisy Buchanan. I warned him that I am overly critical of fiction, but he suggested I read it anyway. So far, I'm not impressed. Of course the main character is emotionally isolated because she was almost raped when she was 18. Of course the only person she can really "connect" with is her cousin with Downs Syndrome and the homeless people she works with. Of course the handsome upstairs neighbor is madly in love with her but unable to break down her walls. *sigh*

I will hold off making any more negative comments until after I have finished reading the whole novel.

On a positive note, scattered throughout the book are photographs that were taken in real life by a homeless man with schizophrenia which I think are really fantastic. I'd buy the book just to look at those photographs again.

Sloths are nutty