Oct 03 2008
Finding the Drama
I have read a lot of books–many for classes (required reading)–and because of that, I cannot count the number of times a book really hasn’t worked for me. I may have been intellectually interested, but I never grew passionate about the book. That is not to say that I desire to read romances (actually, I pretty much detest romances), but I seek books that add some magic to my life.
Why? Well, if you looked at my life (and most likely looked at your own, I’m guessing), the majority of it is mundane. I’m elated that my world no longer involves extensive nursing and diapering, but it still revolves around runny noses, sweeping, doing dishes, watching kids’ programming, cooking three meals a day, running errands, etc. None of these really brings much passion to my life. Thus, reading is one of the ways I seek that passion elsewhere.
What sparks this in me? Magic, superhuman abilities, epic quests, music, dance, suspense, especially when it involves huge events (the possible eradication of an entire people, diverted through magical means and tremendous heroism–think Lord of the Rings, Spiderman, Harry Potter). So I read, and read, and read, looking for those sparks.
Yet I cannot live through books alone. I must find the magic in my own life, or I will grow entirely unsatisfied with it, and perhaps leave it altogether for the warm pages of a great book. Not healthy. No, really, believe me, that’s not healthy.
What’s my solution? Well, it’s my plan, but I must continuously work on it: I need to find the magic in the everyday things. I need to see the heroism in daily events, the hidden evil in irritating neighbors, imagine my journey today as an epic quest. I can’t think of my “sex life” with my husband–it’s our “romance,” our “steamy affair.” (Sorry if that’s TMI).
Think of the ad with M. Night Shyamalan in it, where he is sitting in a restaurant, in a mundane world, yet he imagines creepy things crawling out of the woodwork, coming to get him. That sort of thing, specifically, won’t spark my own zest for life, but it works for him, so he does it. I just have to see the drama in my own life, to view my world as epic, my quest as crucial to the survival of the universe. I have to play piano as if I am a virtuoso, love my children as if I am mother earth, and they are the dearest fairies of my realm, clean my house to make it into my own personal fortress of solitude, write to change the world.
And I need to keep reading–if only for inspiration.
I realized lately that I have not read much of anything that I have really enjoyed since this new school year started. I am reading about 400+ pages of academic journals a week… not much time left for fun.
But I did just go through one of my boxes of new books (from my sister) … picked one that looks interesting and am looking forward to my soak in the tub today…. I need a fun read
I don’t know that I feel short on drama in my life, but I’d like it better if the drama led somewhere, affected the world so these dramatic saves and clever extrications from disaster would mean something instead of just allowing me to move into next month…
Oh, well. I do have books. And I love ‘em.