What to do?

Sometimes the only thing keeping me from laying in bed all day reading, holding Coco and losing myself in Napville is cussed determination. If I hit the gym and then mebbe, as a reward, take myself out to lunch, I might feel better. Ya know? So that’s what I did yesterday.

I confess, I prolly wouldn’t have made it to the Y if I’d had a ripping yarn on the bedside table. Neither of the books I recently checked out have grabbed me. Granted, one’s an exhausting (and gross!) tale of survival during the Black Plague.

How cheery can ya get!?

I like the author but always forget how bleak and utterly consuming she is. Minette Walters generally writes gripping, dark mysteries which never fail to ignite a fierce tell-me-more, tell-me-more scare in me. This book’s no exception. The protagonist of The Last Hours is Lady Anne – a tremendously smart cookie. She's not cowed nor fooled by the officious assholes of her day. Lady Anne's a feminist before feminism, in a time when women were nothing but property, no more than slaves.

I imagine, I hope, she’ll save the day (in the sequel) but the scorched earth wretchedness of The Last Hours has torpedoed my interest.

The other book I had was touted as funny sci fi. Nope. Warcross by Marie Lu is a mystery set in a computer game type world. The teen hacker hero is supposedly witty – not so I’ve noticed. Mostly she seems depressed and anxious.
So yeah, it’s back to the library for me today. I need a gripping, rollicking adventure, something to rescue me from the incessant drear of the season, the heinousosity of the world and its “leaders" AND those motherfucking final 15 pounds I’ve got to lose – lemme just tell you, the battle is fierce and fraught.

Possibly I should reread some old faves like:
Jasper Fforde’s The Eyre Affair.

Thursday Next is a literary detective with a pet dodo and a time-traveling father, and it's up to her to find the kidnapper who's snatched Jane Eyre right out of Jane Eyre. Of course, she'll have to jump into the book and crack this case from the inside. (source)

Or that abso-awesome collaboration by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, Good Omens.

According to The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch (the world's only completely accurate book of prophecies, written in 1655, before she exploded), the world will end on a Saturday. Next Saturday, in fact. Just before dinner. (source)

OR John Scalzi’s Old Man’s War.

John Perry did two things on his 75th birthday. First he visited his wife's grave. Then he joined the army. (source)

Yeah doesn’t sound funny but, remember, Scalzi’s a WAY witty author. Engaging as fuck too. This book’s one hell of an adventure.

Depression is the most unpleasant thing I have ever experienced. . . . It is that absence of being able to envisage that you will ever be cheerful again. The absence of hope. That very deadened feeling, which is so very different from feeling sad. Sad hurts but it's a healthy feeling. It is a necessary thing to feel. Depression is very different.
~ J.K. Rowling

 I don’t *think* I’m depressed. This is, best I can tell, just a BIG ass sad but it feels like I’ve been here for-fucking-ever. Really, it’s been two and a half years now – ever since The Amazing Bob checked out. I can count the happy days on one set of hands and feets. Coupla dozen happy days out of 970 is pretty damn feeble.

I think it’s getting to be time for a visit to Ten out in Oregon. Road trips, especially when the Tremendous Ten’s involved, always bring wonder with a BIG side of joy-joy.

Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say “My tooth is aching” than to say “My heart is broken.
~ C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain