Mental health and kiddie lit
Today was, among other things, chock full of exciting mental health related revelations, with and without the help of the mental health professional I engage for such things. I think all the time I've had to myself for the past few weeks has done my brain a world of good. My wallet, not so much. I really ought to get on that whole income thing, I suppose.
I'm beginning, slowly, to reschool myself in the power and comfort of companionable silence. Makes me miss all the time I used to spend with Jason post-high school graduation, lying on twin sagging couches in his tiny basement room, watching hockey games and endless MASH reruns in the dark, not saying anything. Now he's married and we both live in different states and we'll never be eighteen again, but there are moments when all I want in the world is that room and those couches and that companionship. I haven't found anything quite like it since.
It's a damp and draggy Friday night and Haley is nowhere to be found, not that I'm feeling terribly sociable anyway. Methinks it is time for kiddie lit and bed.
Actually, a PS on the subject of kiddie lit: I had to make a last-minute replacement for one of the ten kids' books I'm reading for my class project, as it turns out that The Last Unicorn is not, in fact, a children's book, though it was made into a children's movie, and the five pages I read of the first book of that Lloyd Alexander series bored me to tears. Maybe I'm just not in the mood for high fantasy at the moment. At any rate, I happened upon Catherine, Called Birdy by Karen Cushman, and it is hilarious and awesome and anyone with an interest in children's lit and/or historical fiction (it's set in the 13th century) with strong female protagonists should totally check it out. I'll post an excerpt tomorrow if I remember.
I'm beginning, slowly, to reschool myself in the power and comfort of companionable silence. Makes me miss all the time I used to spend with Jason post-high school graduation, lying on twin sagging couches in his tiny basement room, watching hockey games and endless MASH reruns in the dark, not saying anything. Now he's married and we both live in different states and we'll never be eighteen again, but there are moments when all I want in the world is that room and those couches and that companionship. I haven't found anything quite like it since.
It's a damp and draggy Friday night and Haley is nowhere to be found, not that I'm feeling terribly sociable anyway. Methinks it is time for kiddie lit and bed.
Actually, a PS on the subject of kiddie lit: I had to make a last-minute replacement for one of the ten kids' books I'm reading for my class project, as it turns out that The Last Unicorn is not, in fact, a children's book, though it was made into a children's movie, and the five pages I read of the first book of that Lloyd Alexander series bored me to tears. Maybe I'm just not in the mood for high fantasy at the moment. At any rate, I happened upon Catherine, Called Birdy by Karen Cushman, and it is hilarious and awesome and anyone with an interest in children's lit and/or historical fiction (it's set in the 13th century) with strong female protagonists should totally check it out. I'll post an excerpt tomorrow if I remember.