The Worth of a Book is To Be Measured by What You Can Carry Away From It.

Recently, as a gift for [finally] winning my unemployment case, I bought Mastering Witchcraft by Paul Huson. A certain Miss Dirty had recommended this book some time back when she was asked for book recommendations. I had already had it on my Amazon wishlist, but had the priority set to low. Of course, once she gushed love about the book, I moved it up higher. I had been adding it and removing it from my cart for the better part of a month before I finally said, “Fuck it.”

Since it came in, I’ve been eyeballing it.

I’m pretty psychotic when it comes to reading books, and by “psychotic” I really mean OCD-military style… or, you know, neurotic. I can’t read more than one book at a time. This includes books from varying subjects since I’m eclectic in my tastes: paranormal romance, historical fiction (from Egypt or Medieval England only), history across numerous eras and covering various subject matter, sci-fi, witchcraft… I have lots of tastes and lists [only in my head] of what to read and when that will happen. Also, I have to be finished with a book before I look at another, I.E. read the bibliography, recommendations from the publishing house, gone through Q&A with the author, read any previews of future novels, and even re-read the mini-bio of the author. I mean, I read a fucking book from cover to cover. I’m a nut, I know.

It is in this environment that my new purchase makes its home.

Now, at this point, I am “technically” in the middle of reading two books. I have my all-time book that I read before I go to bed, which just so happens to be Eleanor of Aquitaine by Alison Weir… again. (Have I mentioned that I read my books a hundred bills times? No? Well, I do. I could probably commit passages to memory at this point.) And I had started working on The Twelve Wild Swans back in… some time… before… I don’t fucking remember when. I’d look through my calendar but I’m lazy as fuck and when I started it isn’t the point. The point is that I haven’t been able to pick it up for more than a few seconds at a time before I sigh in boredom and think about what I could be doing that’s not reading TWS* at this juncture in time.

(* The book isn’t terrible. And I’m not saying that people shouldn’t read it. I just can’t get into it. I honestly don’t know what the issue is and I hope this isn’t something that I have against Starhawk’s writing style because I always wanted to read The Spiral Dance. However, I’ve found that I can’t keep my brain focused on the fucking book for the life of me. And that should be damn near fucking impossible because I have a cute little notebook that I’ve been using TO TAKE NOTES on the damn thing. And I still can’t keep it together. So, I’m at the point where I think me and TWS? We’re just not able to see each other right now.)

This morning, I wanted to read something that wasn’t a cereal box—I’ll read anything just so that I can read: toilet paper bags, shampoo bottles, whatever—for once while eating breakfast. I ended up pulling out Mastering Witchcraft. I figured that by reading just the introduction, I wasn’t really reading it.

I couldn’t put the book down until I was fully done with the introduction. Walking through the house, I had my nose in the damn book. This used to be normal for me as a teenager since my life wasn’t worth living and reading was way better, however, nowadays, you’ll have to shove the book in my face for that to happen. However, everything that was discussed in the introduction was something that threw me for a loop. It wasn’t that I was getting new information but that everything that was mentioned was something that I’ve taken it upon myself to study before. And I’m seriously not kidding. I think there were only a few things, mentioned later in the introduction, that I wasn’t qualified to discuss to some extent with others. I mean, I was just literally blown away!

In my really odd and overly emotional state at present, this means something. I don’t know what but it means something. And it’s important to me, to my future, to everything. It’s just a matter of putting what that is into perspective.

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One thought on “The Worth of a Book is To Be Measured by What You Can Carry Away From It.

  1. Really odd and overly emotional states seem to be the norm lately. Significant stuff’s getting tossed about right and left, but I’m all “Yeah, how ’bout you come back and break my world later, k thanx. I just wanna watch a movie and eat some damn ice cream right now–preferably without weeping uncontrollably into the bowl like I did last night. Snot does not taste good with peaches, JSYK.”

    Congrats on getting your unemployment settled! :D

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