Wednesday, August 8, 2012


I went back to my childhood home for a few days, and for the first time in months slept in "my own bed." I was lazing one morning, drinking coffee in bed, and my eyes drifted to my bookcase. And it hit me that not many children probably had a bookcase like mine. It has 7 shelves, and goes almost to the ceiling. I got it when I was in the fourth grade. Even back then I think it was full up. Now It's completely full and double stacked.

Books were a large part of my childhood, and are obviously still important to me now. But it hit me how odd it must have been for my friends to come over and see that the dominant piece of furniture in my room was a bookcase.

I went to a discount book store a couple days ago and got nine new books. A smattering of paranormal, history, classics, one on economic theory, and one on Scottish Magick. I must have a problem, since I still have over a dozen books to read this summer.

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