Reading Rambo

I know. It's been almost a week. But the Americans will understand there was NO TIME. Because you have Wednesday when you get drunk, Thursday when you travel and eat a lot, Friday when you go shopping, and you don't update on the weekend. Which brings us to today. Also to the fact that CAN I SAY, my headcanon of Charlotte Bronte loving Whitney Houston has become so real to me that when I eventually time travel and bring 16-year-old her to this time and play 'The Greatest Love of All' for her, if she doesn't like it, my world will fall apart. And not just because bringing her forward in time might create some weirdo paradox thingy. I need coffee. Saturday I did a spin class for the first time, which bruised me in some unfortunate places, and yesterday I ran three blocks for the bus which almost  killed me. Haven't unslumped myself. Still barely reading. It's reeeeeal sad. me in tortoise form You know who should get drunk together? George Eliot...

I've been meaning to read The Lifted Veil by George Eliot for a reeeally long time now. And it's super-short, so earlier this week, I was like "Oh, just do it." It's kind of weird that this was published the same year as Adam Bede , because I overall like Adam Bede  and its fanfic-like ways, whereas this I was like -- well here, let me ruin it for you: So it's all first person narration, and it's this guy who's like: "Oh, I'm dying, but LET ME TELL YOU MY TALE. I got sick when I was young and afterwards I could read minds. Yes. Totally. I am not shitting you. But it was really annoying because ugh, people are dumb. And I had to hear all these dumb people's dumb thoughts. So I'm living life, trying to be a poet but somehow sucking at it, and then I couldn't read this one girl's mind, so she was FASCINATING, and hold up, I know this sounds like Twilight  except for the vampire bit (although I was stunningly pale), but th...

Reviewing. I suck at it. Other people are good at it, and I respect that. While I'm slightly bummed that my book blog is rarely about specific books beyond "*insert title here* is kickass and you all should read it" or "This way sucks," if I tried to make it just book reviews, it would be tremendously boring, no one would read my blog and I'd sit in a corner crying while trying to come up with hilarious things to say on facebook. I'm sure if I sat down and looked at the format of people's reviews, I could synthesize some stuff and come up with a non-horrible way of doing it, but 1) that sounds boring, 2) too much effort, 3) while I appreciate other people reviewing, I don't think I could do it without sounding like everyone else. Boo. With this in mind, I want to talk about George Eliot. How do we all feel about George, or Georgie, as I'm sure she would totally prefer? (not really) My feelings sway depending on how much frustration she is ...