R.I.F.

Reading is fundamental.

It is. Really. I'm a big supporter. A regular contributor. I've got bookcases to prove it. And books on the floor. You could say I consider myself an excellent reader. When I'm into the action, I tear through it like an animal. Like a tiger. You'd think that talent would translate.

And sadly, no. I am an excellent reader of books and yet a for-shit reader of people. This, this is my Achilles heel. Maybe those book burners had something there when they protested that literature would fill the minds of the impressionable with fanciful thoughts and dangerous deeds.

Okay, fine, I saw "Footloose" this weekend on TBS. I was totally drawn into the action. Surprisingly, I'd never noticed how incredibly gay Kevin Bacon's dance in the warehouse is. And by gay, I mean "happy". Needless to say, those particular teens are the worst dancers in human history but I'd go so far as to say that they are that way because their parents burn books.

I am an excellent dancer.

Back to scholarship. As an avid reader, I'm quite disappointed to realize this failing in myself. I seem to create very elaborate fantasies around people that don't quite come to fruition or anywhere close.

I am an excellent fantasizer.

Don't judge me. All this being said, I'm a touch depressed at present for my lack. Oh, the lack. Sweet, sweet lack. Reading is fundamental, and yet I lack. I lack. I lack. I lack. My rose-colored contacts seem to fill in spaces and create grand illusions in an already-super creative mind. Ah well. My cross to bear.

Speaking of bears, my deepest apologies for the hibernation. Entirely self-imposed. A Shiny Penny needs her repose and reflection. I'm quite done. At least publicly.

Thank you very much.