The cold moved me to visit the library today. I went with nonfiction in mind and my eyes dripped over the new titles with gooey lust. I read something recently, actually it was something my mom blogged about (she’s a ghost blogger), that said as we age we soak up information differently. When we’re young we crave repetition, and learn through it. But as the brain gets older, it’s bored by the same ol’. New input. Need new input.
I’ve felt stupid, of late. My thoughts feel like they move through a sand dune from their inception until they reach the tip of my tongue. I’ve lost my quick wit, and my recall is a couch potato.
It’s possible that my hunger for learning was bigger today than the capacity my eyes can scan in, in a two week span. I took out eight books. One of them was just for looking at pictures… of cottages. A girl can dream, eh.
I’ve got three birthday (not mine, someone else’s) drinks in me and I’m feeling magic. What is it about three drinks that is so magic? This feeling, it’s like liquid brain-spiration. I feel totally complete knowing that ahead of me this evening is eating and picking apart a pile of books.