What to say, what to say..

It's Friday tomorrow and the weekend seems open and full of promise. Now to what end I can use that time is yet to be determined. My life has been voluntarily stripped down to it's essentials and I couldn't be happier. As per an old entry I made, the fewer people I have in my circle the happier I become. Not that I wish to be a lonely soul, but its incredibly taxing for me to deal with people and their insecurities.

All that being said, I'm finding beautiful solace in myself - more now than ever before in my life. It's reached the point where I no longer seek the sweet escape of alcohol...the best times as of late have all happened on the crisp plane of sobriety. Conversely, the worst times seem to go hand-in-hand with the liqour.

One particular gem I've rediscovered is my love of reading. I remember plowing through hard covers as a young lad...encyclopedias and other Science materials were always my favorites...I hit the novels hard from grade 7 on.

My mother bought me a new book this past Christmas and I'll admit I've seriously stretched out the reading on this one. When I would see her, she would razz on me to finish the book so I could be as blown away as all the other fortunate readers before me had been. I took her word to heart, grit my teeth and started reading whenever an opportunity presented itself. The synopsis on the back was mildly appealing; a book about architecture (which I never took interest in,) a strong willed young man, a woman who tries to break him...interesting, but a little played out, I thought. Any idea on the title? I struggled to keep the book off the shelf for months...then, like a break in the clouds, the second half of the book opened up and the sunshine hit me hard and hot.

I haven't been able to put the book down. It's easily shot to the top of my favorites list. Ayn Rand - I've only heard her name briefly during my short life on this planet. Now I'm beginning to see what all the fuss is about...her writing style is like nothing I've come across before. Her attention to emotional detail is intoxicating...I find myself observing personalities as she would describe them. The last praise I'll offer to The Fountainhead is this: never before have I caught myself yelling at a literary character out of sheer emotional attachment. Brilliant! Oh, and the book has made me slightly more aware of the differences in architecture. Slightly :p

I'm already looking for a copy of her other book (c'mon Alexus you know the one..) Atlas Shrugged. G'nite, all. I'm going to enjoy a beautiful and very sober evening..