That Anne-Girl

Well, it's almost 1 AM. I am absolutely beat. My face is beginning to look haggard from lack of sleep. I can see the dark circles under my eyes and I wish I had been born with non-dark-circle genes so that when I get tired they don't become worse. It was a long week. I'm tired. I intend every Friday to come home and sleep. That's what I want all week, but somehow it never happens. I have too many things that I want to do! Tonight I had a change of plans, so I made dinner, discussed a book with Margie on the phone and found myself feeling sick to my stomach about the end of a series that I just finished that I might have somehow misread. The thought made me sick contemplating what could happen next!! Not by beautiful love story! Please don't ruin it!

However, I have learned some lessons recently regarding fiction. First, no matter what you're doing (and this includes reading good fiction) you need to be careful of how you let that thing control your mind. Oddly enough, the Twilight series was mind-altering. It seriously felt like I was on a drug. I had heightened senses, was jumpy, was constantly craving more, and the after-effects of it were deadly. I was wrapped up so much in those books, so enthralled by the characters that I totally lost myself in the emotions of the story. I realize now how bad that was. They are wonderfully written. The characters are beautiful, but I found myself feeling heartsick and depressed because I had such a deep longing to be Bella and experience the love Edward showed her that it totally toyed with my emotions. Therefore, I realized that even fiction can be like a drug. Second, instead of getting wrapped up in the characters and therefore making yourself miserable, learn to appreciate the beauty for what it is...beautiful, not for pining after. I think this is a good lesson to learn. I wish I learned it sooner. However, I fear that I am hopelessly romantic and no matter what I try, I doubt I can ditch all of the romantic sentiments that enthrall me so much. Third, sometimes it's good to pick a happy book.

That leads me to what I did tonight. Talking with Margie about the book dredged back up those emotions and so instead of going to bed when I should have, I dug through my closet, located the huge tub of books I didn't bother to unpack (after packing and unpacking multiple times I realized that stack could stay packed), and pulled out my Anne of Green Gables series. I might be leading myself into another trap. These books did for me at 14 what the Twilight Series did for me at 24. The difference is that the Anne books are much more real-to-life.

I just finished book 1. Oh...so lovely. Now, even though my eyes are drooping, I just have to reflect upon this books so that hopefully my mind will be less restless and I will be able to sleep. Anne (the origin of my middle name, oddly enough) is an impulsive, impish, loving, hopelessly romantic (in the tragic way), energetic child. I thought it might be boring, but it wasn't. She warmed my heart and even though she and Gilbert hardly even talk in this book, I finished just feeling good and being able to take full breaths. It was refreshing and I'm glad I read it. Now I wish that I could just sit here and fall asleep listening to the beginning of the second book but the library doesn't have the next book as an audiobook. So I guess the next option is just to sleep.

Reflection: Sometimes the best rest after a long week is not sleep, is not daydreaming, but instead basking in the glow of cheerful fiction. It's like a cool drink for the heart, especially when it seems like so much fiction just tries to irritate the heart either in pity or emotionally. Why is it that so many things vie to manipulate our emotions? Why do mine get manipulated so easily? Ahh well...no need to think of those things...I'm relaxed and I'm happy.

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