Monthly Archives: June 2013

i promise i am here…

yikes….sorry for the lack of posts.  i have so many fun posts coming up (ok maybe not fun but something to read to pass time if you are bored to tears at work or home or on a bus and have nothing better to do).

i promise to try to do better.

a taste of things to come…

job developments, darkness, pancake, otis, summer trips, media, luigi, family, friends, june birthdays, flash flood…

see doesn’t that make you want to camp by your computer waiting on the next post?!

(or not).

 

 

imagination: my own little world

i blamed my dad earlier for long drives and since i don’t want my mom to feel left out so…i blame her for my imagination and being in my own little world.

let me explain:  when i was growing up my mom was rarely without a book in her hand (a real book with paper and words and a cover – shocking i know).  i can remember watching tv as a child and mom with her nose in a book.  i can remember her laying on the beach on family vacation and her nose in a book.  i can remember her floating in the pool with a book (threatening me and will not to splash her or else), i can remember her hiding in her closet to get away from me and will with her nose in a book (ok maybe not that one).  but the point is that she read – a lot.

i always thought that my mom was ignoring me when her nose was in a book.  i always thought i could get away with whatever i wanted because i could stand in front of her yelling her name, hang on her arms or climb in her lap begging for something, hang from the rafters of the house, stand on my head, roll in the floor crying and having a temper tantrum and she wouldn’t bat an eye…just calmly get one hand free so she could turn the pages.  but at the last second she would say my name and i don’t know how she did it (reading and being fully in the book and still able to tell the exact moment i was going to hit/pinch will and to stop me) but she did.  it wasn’t until i got older and started going on youth trips that i understood.  i remember taking a book on the youth beach trip and sitting on the towel and being totally involved with my characters and the murderous plot and being able to police the kids without batting an eye.  one of the other adults with me was like how do you do that?  i can honestly say i have no idea…it’s my mom’s fault (i am pretty sure that was my actual answer).  i was able to ignore the things that they did to try to annoy me but was able to get them to be nice to each other and focus on the important stuff (like not letting them drown).  after that weekend trip i knew that i had her magical power too.  it is amazing.

needless to say, i got my love of reading from her and for me when i read i throw myself in the story completely. i get attached to the characters and invested into their fictional lives. i feel the emotions that they feel and the experiences that they go through. when i am reading a good book i see if unfold with my own eyes in my own little world and am completely consumed (i am sure if andy were sitting next to you while you read that statement he would be nodding his head like crazy). that doesn’t sound so bad but see the problem is i don’t do that with just my books. i do it with songs and movies and tv shows. (since my regular shows aren’t on until fall i am back to my summer show rookie blue and have gotten so attached – and we are just 2 episodes in). my imagination in my own little world runs away from me and i get excited to watch my shows, read a good book, hear a song with a story line, see a play, people watch in walmart (or restaurants) or day-dream while i was dishes and do laundry.  as i hesitate to admit this but i jump into it completely that if i am reading a sad book sometimes it takes me a minute to “get back into the real world” and remind myself that it is just a book and they are fake characters or to realize that it was just a very vivid day-dream that i created and not actually an event that happened.  i hesitate to admit that i get so caught up in some of my shows that i get mad at the characters and have to remind myself that they are playing roles and not actually in love or hating or trying to kill their costars.  i hate to admit that i jump so fully into my own little world and imagination because sometimes i think if i admit that i will be admitting to and owning up to the fact that i am crazy…but i’m not crazy.

i often find myself consumed by my imagination and in my own little world…and i am ok with that – it isn’t really my fault.