Living in Lit.

There is a new website that, when referred by me to it, my friend Andrea called a "MySpace for book lovers". And she was undeniably correct. It is called GoodReads and I have had a joyous time listing books that I've read and ones that I intend to know more about. It is easy to search for; it has become rather large in a quick time, from what I have noticed.

This poking around of mine, coupled with a new desire to find a better, more interesting (albeit perhaps more mainstream) line of work has led me to a number of options and a conglomeration of all my interests in one spot: caffeine, writing, literature, jazz, and a new schedule to accomodate my son. As long as I can find something that will allow me to insure (and hopefully more ensure) my son's health, I will consider the new job an improvement.

Andrea and I also had an interesting discussion about how much literature can really affect one's life, and the reasoning behind our own individual tastes in such. This led me to quite a bit of philosophic rambling (my personality has been returning for some time, and now I see is also solidifying), the conclusion of which being that I find very little value in a book that I cannot analyze, because I cannot then engage and learn from the values, situations, and characters in the book; and, while respecting them as such, then find out more about myself and continue to mature in the path set before me. So far, and I realize my type is always in the minority because my type is not the one existing on the basis of the specifically popular, this would explain why I have yet to really engage the Harry Potter craze on any kind of legitimately intellectual scale.

So be it: I am a literary rebel of the academic purview.