Showing posts tagged with “airiz”
“All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you; the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was.”
The best kind of books are those that are honest. Their love is borne verbatim from their author’s parental affections: word by word, they expose their very being for their beholder’s mind and heart.
Their honesty can become so contagious that you, the reader, gradually opens your heart to their pages. You shed a tear or two when the characters’ pain blooms; you laugh when they can’t contain the bliss in their chests. Their words send your pulse rushing, dragging you with the charging plot.
The reading experience becomes more personal this way. You and the books clandestinely share a piece of your souls to each other, and more often than not, the intimacy lingers even after the you have turned the last page.
The best kind of books are those that are honest; the best kind of books are those that are alive.
Her soul slipped into a spacesuit of patched-up hopes.
She looked into the vacuum and muttered,
"If light-years can be measured in teacups,
I’d be drinking my way up into the stars.”
But her dreams are nebulae, or even galaxies, away
and no amount of caffeine can bring her there.
Her heart nestled in a bed of sewn-together prayers.
She closed her eyes and whispered,
"If light-years can be measured in keystrokes,
I’d be writing my way up into the stars.”
But Words, no matter how strong,
may need more fuel from her to bring her there.
Her tears were kept nowhere; they clouded her eyes.
She blinked them away and said,
"If light-years can be measured in saltwater,
would the nights I spent crying not be enough?”
The Universe went on spinning,
trying to ignore her despair.
Perhaps light-years can be measured
in how wide you can stretch
your heart’s threshold for pain;
in how many lash beatings
your soul can take
or in how many buckets of tears
you can keep at bay.
She knows she doesn’t know.
She’s more than a sightless Spacewalker
but the starshine from faraway, perhaps, is enough
for her to walk blindly, for a while.
© Airiz Casta, 2013
- Mark Haddon
Sums up my bookworm existence. Yes, I’m addicted to books, and I will never go to rehab for it. I’ll stay a “user” forever. :)
-Joyce Carol Oates
The future freaks me out. In one of my old sketchbook-diaries, I once doodled a ghost against a storm of black scribbles. I named it “past,” and right beside it are the words “Sometimes it haunts me in my sleep.” One tossed grad cap and several steps into the proverbial Real World later, a new kind of ghost started to haunt every nook of my head. It was scarier, bigger. It named itself “the future.”
"…Reading the right one at the right time can make all the difference."
-Brandon Sanderson, Alcatraz and the Evil Librarians series
Jar of Awesome. The idea is you take a container and you fill it with papers detailing the awesome things that happen to you throughout the year. On New Year’s Eve, you open the jar and reflect on all those things. Think of it as the literal ‘counting of blessings’ in your past 365 days.
I want to call mine a Jar of Smiles, and here’s WHY.