When Heaven Becomes Hell or Something Like That
I have always had an addictive personality I think. Put more positively I guess I would have to say I am passionate. That sounds better!
As a child I read and read and read and that is one passion that remains today. Back then it was the dreaded Uncle Arthur’s bedtime stories previously mentioned in No! No! Please No More Bedtime Stories!, Trixie Belden, anything by Pearl S. Buck..well the list is endless.
Lately I have blogged on some of my current favs which includes Stephenie Meyer and the whole Twilight thing. The first I even knew about this series was the six o’clock news sometime ago, which showed a bunch of tweenies lined up to see the first movie. The minute vampires were mentioned I shut the set off and muttered at great length to myself about the disgusting situation of the world and it’s youth and how no good could come out of the downward spiral society was on.
That Christmas my daughter-in-law gave me…yup..the first Twilight book.
So came my Cullen passion and it has not abated. I have every book including The Short life of Bree Tanner. I have on my desk top the leaked copy of Midnight Sun which Meyer posted since it was already out there and chose not to finish. The books are filled with anticipation, mystery and myth. Her character development is intense and in depth. The set has been a reread again and again seeking out what was said before that hinted at something explained two novels later.
Now my last two weekends have been reading marathons, barely poking my head out of the book, never mind the door. So today I took myself in hand and sternly made myself go for a walk. Fresh air – well as fresh as it can be – no books, no iPad, just a good old fashioned walk. No coffee shop because that meant reading and sipping.
I ended up at a mall, and not being a shopper I still entered and practiced the art of browsing, like normal people do, and bookstores were not allowed. I strolled the whole mall and decided I needed something from Wal-Mart.
For the life of me I can’t remember what it was because as soon as I stepped in the door something unknown took over and stupefied me, and forced me, I swear, to approach a large table with BOOKS. I could see it coming and reached way down deep, where pure grit resides, to prepare myself. Why I could handle this. I would look but not touch. I would be master of these insane urges for words, stories, poems, toilet cleaning instructions, anything.
Then I muttered a groan of agony mixed with a liberal dose of the ecstatic. Before me lay the twilight saga: the official illustrated guide. The first fifty-five pages are all about how Meyer came to write the story. A total of five hundred and forty-three pages of history and detail of every character in the series. I mean EVERY character!
I forced myself to visit my aunt for tea as planned, even though the book in the bag sang to me like a siren. I forced myself to visit with my sister this evening, when she arrived as invited, thinking please please just let me look at it. I even made time to read your blogs but now! Now as midnight approaches I am free to look.
I have made myself promise it would be just a wee peek and I have every confidence that in a short time I can put it down, close the cover, have a normal night sleep, rise in the morning at a decent hour, clean my house, perhaps solve a world problem or two and then treat myself to this delicious demon of addiction. I am sure I can. I am. Sure.