i loved the library

stumblingmedstudent  asked:

Okay this one's for the bookish qstns: What/who got you into reading? Your first favorite book? Your current favorite book? Favorite book of all time? Least favorite book of all time? What book/s that you rave about? An author/s that you dislike/hate? An author/s you like/love? What popular book do you just hate? How many books have you read so far this year? What book character does your mother remind you of? :)

  What/who got you into reading? 

  My mum and my third grade librarian. My mother says (I don’t really remember because I was too little) she used to spend quite a lot buying books for me and my brother and encouraging us to read them. But I don’t recall being a big reader in kindergarten or in the first or second grade.                                              In the third grade, we got an amazing librarian. I fell in love with her during our class’ first visit to the library. During each visit, she used to teach us a phrase and gave us examples of how to use that phrase. I loved her teaching style, I loved how intelligent she was and most of all,I loved how much she loved books. She encouraged us all to read and recommended Enid Blyton to us. I tried Blyton and fell head over heels in love with her books and from then on, my love for reading has grown.                                                                                              Also, the fact that we did not have a tv and that I sucked at video games meant there weren’t many alternative sources for entertainment other than reading.

Your first favorite book?                                                                                            Umm, I don’t remember. It must have been something by Enid Blyton.

Your current favorite book?                                                                                     I haven’t read a novel in a while so I don’t have a current favourite book.

Favorite book of all time?                                                                                          I don’t have one favourite book, I have several. Harry Potter, Jane Eyre, a book from Dickens whose name escapes me at this moment, and the list goes on…

Least favorite book of all time?                                                                               I’ve read a lot of awful books in my time, I can’t really pick one.

What book/s that you rave about?                                                                        See my above answer to favourite book of all time.

An author/s that you dislike/hate?                                                                           John Green. I don’t hate him, I hate his writing.

An author/s you like/love?                                                                       J.K.Rowling, Charlotte Bronte

What popular book do you just hate?                                                                      The Great Gatsby. I don’t absolutely hate it but I found it dull and uninteresting.

How many books have you read so far this year?                                                    Oh Lord. You got me. I think I read one, but that might have been in December. 

What book character does your mother remind you of?                                          Oh, no! I forgot the character’s name and the book she was in. Sorry.

‘I think about your thighs,’ he wrote in the second letter, and the warm, moist smell of your skin in the morning, and the tiny eyelash in each corner of your eye that I always notice when you first roll over to look at me. I don’t know why you are better and more beautiful than anybody else. I don’t know why your body is something I can’t stop thinking about, why those little flaws and ridges on your back are lovely to me or why the pale soft bottoms of your New Jersey feet that always wore shoes are more poignant than any other feet, but they are. I thought I would have more time to chart your body, to map its poles, its contours and terrains, its inner regions, both temperate and torrid - a whole topography of skin and muscle and bone. I didn’t tell you, but I imagined a lifetime as your cartographer, years of exploration and discovery that would keep changing the look of my map. It would always need to be redrawn and reconfigured to keep up with you. I’m sure I’ve missed things..or forgotten them, because half the time I’ve been wandering around your body blind drunk with happiness. There are still places I haven’t seen.
—  Siri Hustvedt, What I Loved

An Old English word for library was “bōchord”, which literally means “book hoard”, and honestly I really think we should go back to saying that because not only does it sound really fucking cool, but it also sort of implies that librarians are dragons.

We see movies in which people are represented as being in love who never talk with one another, who fall into bed without ever discussing their bodies, their sexual needs, their likes and dislikes. Indeed, the message received from the mass media is that knowledge makes love less compelling; that it is ignorance that gives love its erotic and transgressive edge. These messages are often brought to us by profiteering producers who have no clue about the art of loving, who substitute their mystified visions because they do not really know how to genuinely portray loving interaction.
—  “all about love: New Visions” by bell hooks
You love people. They disappoint you. But sometimes, they don’t. They just keep loving you, right through it all, waiting for you to wake up and appreciate them. To say, ‘I love you. I’ve always loved you back.’
—  Courtney Maum, I Am Having So Much Fun Here Without You
Where did all those feelings go? People spend their whole lives looking for love. Poems and songs and entire novels are written about it. But how can you trust something that can end as suddenly as it begins?
—  Nicola Yoon, The Sun is Also a Star

Snow fell gently on her callous hands as she walked away from a chance of redemption, feeling that it’d be better for the two if it was to end. She was happier without her, it was the most simplistic thought she’d had in months and the only one that made sense.

Bright trees lit up her way instead of the artificial light of both street lights and headlights. It felt right. Imperfect moments weren’t always to stay that way, and this was her break from those moments full of flaw.

Life was going to be okay, for the both of them.