bookstores.

so i've been working on this blog in my head since late this afternoon. then tonight as i was talking with friends and the subject came up, i actually said, "i can't talk about this now. i want to blog about it tonight." which, as i'm sure you know, means the disconnect from reality is now complete. i would officially rather send my thoughts into the void of cyberspace than have an actual face-to-face interaction about them with the very people i am hoping will retrieve these thoughts i so religiously blog about. what was intended to be a reconnect over distance has now become a cause for disconnect in locality. oh, the shame.

so, anyway, barnes and noble. it's a bookstore, and i like it a lot. i like to watch people in the bookstore...what books they pull from the shelves...what books they end up buying. i think you can tell a lot about a person by which section of the store they are drawn to. i have observed this myself, so i usually walk through the doors with the intention of navigating myself to a more prestigious section of books...thinking, perhaps if i surround myself with intellect, i will learn to enjoy and therefore become more intellectual.

so i come through the doors in a bit of a dilemma...resisting my first impulse to the back of the store. i begin by perusing the philosophy section, thinking it might peak my interest...and make me look good. boring. i move rather quickly to the travel section...the politics and government section...the spiritual section...the religion section...all the while denying myself permission to go to the one place in the store i really want to be. then i ask myself, "what are you doing? books are not trophies. give up this vain pursuit of intellect, and make your way to the back of the store." where do i end up? the children's section. always the children's section. and, listen, i have tried to talk myself out of it...justify it...hide it...but today i decided it was time to let myself be who i am.

i love children's books, damn it. and i really, truly love pop-up books. i am eternally fascinated at how in the world these people are able to cut and fold paper in such a way that it creates three dimensional illustrations. it's just incredible and endlessly entertaining. i end up plopping myself down next to the damn pop-up books and pulling on every tab and turning every wheel there is to pull and turn. i know how it looks to the people walking by. they're wondering which frolicking child is mine. "none of them!" i want to shout, "none of them! and i'm glad! i don't need to have children to justify my love for children's literature...and pop up books! i'm an adult! i'm not mentally challenged! go ahead and stare!" just let me sit and read these amazing books.

friends, children's literature is fascinating. the authors are so much more honest...so unpretentious. when we write for our peers, we lose the rawness and the innocence of imagination. we try to impress. these people just let imagination reign. i love it. chris van allsburg - this man has made an art of understanding his own imagination and allowing it to create. i have been enjoying his picture books since i was eight over and over again, and they have yet to lose the magic. in fact, some of his illustrations hang in my room. and books like a wrinkle in time, roll of thunder hear my cry, bridge to terabithia, to kill a mockingbird, the giver...these were the books that first began my thoughts on philosophy and abstract thought. and when i read them now, they still jump start my thought journey. they are pure and honest and i love them for making me think. adult books are so presumptuous. so intentional. boring. give me a book that teaches me something because it makes me think, not because it does the thinking for me. i want to feel like i've been dreaming when i set a book down. nonetheless, after all that ranting, i bought paradise lost and a clockwork orange. i'm hoping for them to be a fair compromise between the proud adult and the frolicking child that live inside me.