Truth be told, I do not read all that much. Especially during the school semesters. I have, however, found one author that does make me want to read. Elizabeth Berg. I came across one of her books, Open House, after Oprah featured it as a read for her book club. No, if you are wondering, I was not part of Oprah's book club. I don't read all that much - remember? Anyway, on a random trip to the local book store, I noticed the stack of books that were filed under "Oprah's Book Club picks." I picked this one up, and of course looked at the cover - a very childish sign that yet again, I am not a big reader. Anyway, the cover was nice, I flipped through the book and took a few seconds to read the prolouge. It struck my interested and I bought the book. Once I finally started reading the book, I could not stop. This woman had a wonderful sense of humor in her writing. She made the characters really come to life before the first chapter was over. To make a long story short, I quickly became a fan of her books. They all read short, but have wonderful plots and characters.
Okay, the point of this post. Last week, on a whim (and since the sememster is nearing to an end), I found my copy of Open House. I placed it in a place (that I am sure we all know of), where I could pick it up ever so often and read a few pages. Once again, I am taken with this book. This morning, while reading, I laughed out loud. A certain string of sentences reminded me of myself.
"I don't know why I bought that bracelet. In my jewlery box are a fair number of velvet cases holding necklaces and bracelets that David gave me for my birthdday, for Christmas. But I don't like fancy jewlery; I never have. The fancy things I like are sheets. Pots and pans. And the things I really like aren't fancy at all: old aprons and hankies. Butter wrappers from the one-pound blocks. Peony bushes, hardback books of poetry. And I like things less than that; the sticky remains at the bottom of the apple-crisp dish. The way cats sometimes run sideways. The presence of rainbows in a puddle of oil. Mayonnaise jars. Pussy willows. Wash on the line. The tick-tock of clocks, the blue of the neon sign at the local movie house. The fact that there is a local movie house."
This passage reminded me of my last few posts about simple things that make me happy. It reminded me of my mom. She is the most practical woman I know - she prefers tools (that's right - hammers, screw drivers, etc.) and knick-nacks over fine jewels and shiny things. I think I inherited that trait from her. I like that I have. Even lately, when thinking about planning our wedding, I have imagined an elegant but simple wedding. Small details, instead of extravagent details.
Maybe that's why I enjoy reading E. Berg books so much. She has a way of making the characters so real. Women that you can relate to.
The more and more that I think about who I am, the more I am beginning to like myself. I want to be real. More real that I have ever been. It's hard to be completely real when you are young. Struggling with being popular, and such. There is always that need to be accepted. Always worrying about people liking you. So much sometimes, that you try to change the way you act and think, so that they will like you. But lately, I have been feeling more accepting of me. Trying to discover the things that are me. Not somebody who everyone will like. It helps too, that I have gotten to a part of my life where friends/classmates opinions don't matter much anymore. And part of being the real me is loving the fact that I relate to the character in the book. I don't live an extravagent life with jewels and shiny things. I live a life that is rich with love and family. Priceless things. Cats walking sideways. Fresh sheets out of the dryer. Stacked piles of notebooks on my desk. Dust on the television. Family that is loving and accepting. Yes, those are the fancy things in my life.