In Which a Short Paragraph About My Life Turned Into a Long Talk About Books

            Hello everyone! So today I rode in/drove a go-kart, terrified my sister, and got attacked by a number of stowaway spiders. It's a good thing I'm not especially arachnaphobic. Or afraid of fast things. Rose apparently is. Really should have seen that coming. Maybe it was just the fact that it was me in the driver's seat. I thought I was quite good. I definitely had fun. 
God, I really shouldn't just leave in the middle of these things. It shouldn't take a span of hours to write a few paragraphs.
Dad said I could go to the library tomorrow. I haven't really been back there in a long time, mostly because it always seems to close so soon or not quite have what I want for reasons of pfft... who knows? And I can always just go to the BIG bookstore in Ashley Park and just read a bunch of books while there. If it wasn't about as organized or as constant as the YouTube web layout.
            And honestly the 'teen' books that are oh-so-popular are really starting to bore me. Futuristic dystopia with a convoluted plot that will make you feel smart for reading, you'll stop understanding it after Chapter Five, but you'll feel clever for trying. Then Romances. Then the kinda generic cop-shows-in-literature form. Honestly, I like books to trick you into reading a genre that you thought you hated, like me with 13 Little Blue Envelopes. Not really fond of romances. Read this without realizing it was categorized as a romance. Loved it much. Saw the little sticker label the school librarians put on a few of the books, and was surprised. It didn't shove the whole 'love' thing down your throat and was geniuenly cute and odd. I liked it. I don't wan't to look at the description of a book and go 'I think I've read this somewhere before...' I want to go 'this looks fascinating, I'll take a look at it.' Books that don't seem to intend to be anything, like a science-fiction or a grownup thing or even occasionally a very light-hearted childish thing. Books that just seems to grow into a theme or an idea or a moral as you read it. Ones you don't start knowing just what to expect.
            When I was a kid I decided to pick a book at random that had nothing but an old, faded black hardcover with it's title written in thin, worn gold script exactly twice. I chose that one because it looked mysterious, like it just might come to life. I read it and thought it was great. I have never read it or anything really similar since. God, I didn't even know who the author was. For me this was a time before books were written by people, they were just there and appeared as naturally as I guess... dandelions. Everywhere, always, and flowers even if most people didn't always think so. (This was also before Twilight etc. had come out, so I didn't even know you could have a book that the majority of the people I met strongly disliked.) Also like dandelions, I enjoyed them immensely. Seriously, who has not picked a bouquet of the things at least once in their childhood. Ah, nostalgia. I wasn't even aware that comparison would work out so well. Huh. 
            You'd think reading is something you just never lose, but it kinda is something you can... fall out of without realizing it. This, I have found, is incredibly dangerous. Especially if you want to write. One doesn't do well without the other. I kind of need to fall back into it. Scratch that, I really need to fall back into it. I want to. But your tastes change as you grow, and you get picky to the point where the school library, though it has plenty of dark almost-grownup things as well as cutesy romantic things and every. Teenage. Vampire novel. In existence. Finding something odd that balances humor with wit and something you don't really get from things like the Maze Runner Series which was a good start but just plain lost me after half of book two. I'm sure there's a way to be confusing and entertaining at the same time, but there comes a point when you want something explained. Even if it's not true, you can be surprised later.
Ha, I talk like I know what I'm on about (I probably don't.), and I could probably go on for a while. Bottom line is I want something odd, different, and a tiny bit funny, if it can. My favorite book since the third grade or so Last of the Really Great Wangdoodles has remained my favorite because it is so dang odd and pretty much unknown (but the author's not, it's the lady who played Mary Poppins, Julie Andrews.) And it's lovely and something just a little like Alice in Wonderland and A Wrinkle in Time. 
Wow... it's really late. And I'm hungry. Goodnight, I guess. There's another rant for you.

T.Y.G.E.R.