|WHAT I'M READING||READING NOW|
i try to make reading a daily part of my existence. there are a number of reasons for this but i imagine you're interested in exactly zero of them. so deem yourself spared.
as for how i choose what to read, i use a genre-based rotation. the rotation changes from time to time but below is the present pattern:
POPULAR FICTION (e.g. ken follet, dan brown, john grisham)
CLASSIC LITERATURE (e.g. alexandre dumas, victor hugo, charles dickens)
SCI-FI/FANTASY (e.g. isaac asimov, orson scott card, robert heinlein)
PHILOSOPHICAL (anything from raw philosophy to the merits of bhudism)
MODERN LITERATURE (e.g. upton sinclair, william faulkner, theodore dreiser)
INSTRUCTIONAL (something towards making a better me)
HISTORICAL BEST-SELLER (from the kahn reading project)
NON-FICTION (e.g. michael lewis, jon krakauer, bill bryson)
the purpose of the above serpentine is rut and glut avoidance. i am desperate to not become a boorish one-category reader and i also love (!!!) the sweeping arcs of subject matter landscapes this practice forces my mind to ambulate through. from a fox hole in WWII europe to solar systems not yet seen (and in times not yet conceived) to how to make your child laugh more to the roman forum at its peak the potential behind this exercise offers limitless candy and vitamins for your mind (and soul).
if you think i'm missing a category, i'd appreciate to hear your argument. and, i'm ever interested in hearing about people's favorite reads, so please hit me up with yours.
The Clan of the Cave Bear
Jean M. Auel
|READ BEFORE||BOOKS FROM : 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017|
When the Game Stands Tall
We're not asking you to be perfect on every play. What we're asking you is to give a perfect effort on every play from snap to whistle.
Walsh taped newspaper articles above his bed heralding Pittsburg's upset victory the year before. Every night for a year he heard those articles rustling in the breeze from the ceiling fan. It made it hard to sleep but he wanted to remind himself of that loss every night before he went to bed.
He told his teammates this story during the meeting the night before the rematch with Pittsburg in the 1992 NCS championship game, and it has been passed down ever since.
"Patrick Walsh is the most passionate person I have ever met, and he was able to channel that tremendous passion into high school football like nobody I've ever seen," says Tyler Scott, a senior wide receiver on the 1991 team that lost to Pittsburg.
It wasn't until after the Spartans defeated the Pirates 41-6 the following day that Walsh took the articles down and slept peacefully.
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Gone with the Wind
Gerald's voice was strangely quiet and he spoke slowly as if drawing his words from a store of thought seldom used.
Ellen's life was not easy, nor was it happy, but she did not expect life to be easy, and, if it was not happy, that was woman's lot. It was a man's world, and she accepted it as such. The man owned the property, and the woman managed it. The man took the credit for the management, and the woman praised his cleverness. The man roared like a bull when a splinter was in his finger, and the woman muffled the moans of childbirth, lest she disturb him. Men were rough of speech and often drunk. Women ignored the lapses of speech and put the drunkards to bed without bitter words. Men were rude and outspoken, women were always kind, gracious, and forgiving.
She lay in the silvery shadows with courage rising and made the plans that a sixteen-year-old makes when life has been so pleasant that defeat is an impossibility and a pretty dress and a clear complexion are weapons to vanquish fate.
"Child, it's a very bad thing for a woman to face the worst that can happen to her, because after she's faced the worst she can't ever really fear anything again. And it's very bad for a woman not to be afraid of something. You think I don't undertand what you've told me—what you've been through? Well, I understand very well. When I was about your age I was in the Creek uprising, right after the Fort Mims massacre—yes," she said in a far-away voice, "just about you age for that was fifty-odd year ago. And I managed to get into the bushes and hide and I lay there and saw our house burn and I saw the Indians scalp my brothers and siters. And I could only lie there and pray that the light of the flames wouldn't show up my hiding place. And they dragged Mother out an killed her about twenty feet from where I was lying. And scalped her too. And ever so often on Indian would go back to her and sink his tommyhawk into her skull again. I—I was my mother's pet and I lay there and saw it all. And in the morning I set out for the nearest settlement and it was thirty miles away. It took me three days to get there, through the swamps and the Indians, and afterward they thought I'd lose my mind....That's where I met Dr. Fontaine. He looked after me .... Ah well, that's been fifty years ago, as I said, and since that time I've never been afraid of anything or anybody because I'd known the worst that could happen to me. And that lack of fear has gotten me into a lot of trouble and cost me a lot of happiness.
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On the Shortness of Life
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