Curtain Call

This is all Liz's fault. I've been thinking about how little writing I've done recently. I mean, I write in my journal, but you don't bore a historical document like a journal with long winded tangents about the absurdities of life at BYU or about the latest Harry Potter theory or movie reviews or...etc. So why is this Liz's fault? Partly because I've always admired her. She's always been someone I've looked up to. So if I'm a copycat for trying out the blog craze at last, then so be it. But it could be a pretty interesting experience. This is the place where I get to talk, and you all get to listen! Granted, I don't know who "you all" are yet, or even if there will ever be a "you all", but I'd like to think that I may, at one point, have at least an audience of one. We'll see.

Along with this reflecting on why I haven't written anything interesting lately, comes the realization that I don't know if I can honestly call myself a bookworm any longer. I think I can blame college for that. Every day this summer I have gone to work at 7, come home at 4 and gone to rehearsal for Footloose or a performance. And now that Footloose is over I come home and nap. Or watch TV. Or any number of completely useless, brain cell killing activities. Whatever happened to my desire to read? I remember summers when I would plow through two novels a week. I remember staying up late at night to re-read my favorite books over again. And now I come home and sleep?! Whatever happened to my worm? I want him back. Next to my bed right now I have about five books piled up that I meant to read this summer. Sense and Sensibility...Ender's Shadow...The Voyage of the Dawn Treader...A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius...among others. I'm about four chapters in on Ender's Shadow. A little bit farther in Sense and Sensibility (but the chapters are shorter so it doesn't count). I wish I had that drive back. Maybe someday I won't be so tired. Every time I've tried to read I've ended up taking a nap because I'm so tired.

Which brings me not so gracefully to my third (and final) point for the evening. This summer saw the dawn of a new Superman to the masses. Superman has always been my favorite hero. Not that I could really pinpoint why. I remember loving Superman as a kid but I didn't know anything about him. All the characters and plot points were completely lost on me (except for Lois and Jimmy-I knew who they were). But all I really knew about Superman was about his different powers. And I think I managed to pinpoint why exactly I love(d) him. It's the same reason I love Peter Pan: both of them can fly. I don't know what it is exactly about flying that makes me hate gravity so much, but something about the thought of feeling so free just gets to me. If and when I ever pass the test and make it to the Celestial Kingdom, I'm going to ask for permission to fly. Just once-to feel what it's like. It's got to be incredible.