Even though I have been drowning in a sea of unrelenting school work, I still cannot keep my mind from wandering two months two months into the future where I will be free of German and in the great state of Georgia! I love it there. Last year it snowed. I took so many pictures of a sparse covering of white loveliness I was so excited!
I have problem when I go anywhere that my books are not; I try to take them all with me. I have been learning to pack lighter because I get made fun of for how much I take with me... most of the mass being books and shoes. How can you ever take just one?! And I'm always reading more than one book at a time: different books for different moods. Words are like music to me. I have to be in the mood to deal with turmoil and war and emotional distress and happiness and gaiety and love. I have to be in the mood to be in Russia with Anna, I have to be in the mood to be with Ernest in Paris, I have to be in the mood to think with Ayn. I am an emotional being and I want the things that I do and surround myself with to reflect how I am feeling.
The only problem is I am trying to find the one book that I will begin and finish this winter break. I am a slow reader with a proliferation of books that have perfect spines and unbent pages. So who am I going to go with?!? Who will come with me? Will it be Rosamond Lehmann? Joyce? Tolstoy? Austen? Auden? Rand? Hemmingway? Fitzgerald? WHO WILL I TAKE?! It is oft too much to bear. I am like a mother unable to pick a favorite... (But I am leaning towards Lehmann's The Weather in the Streets)
