Thrill to Read

Every time I pick up one of these books – the kind that suck you in and become an obsession – I’m reminded of why I love these escapist stories. Of course I admire the years of research that go into writing such an amazing tale and the author’s craft of writing is also a thrill. Ultimately what sucks me in the most is the fleeting chance to pretend I’m someone else for 400 pages. Whether that be a brilliant symbologist in search of the Holy Grail, an artist with an ability to paint an alternate reality, Christ’s bodyguard or many others it’s the chance to live through another character’s eyes, to walk in someone else’s shoes.

Ten years ago my path was laid out before me, ripe for the taking. I was going to be a constitutional scholar after getting a PhD in Political Philosophy and a JD in Constitutional Law. I had great dreams of bringing the glory of the constitution back, renewing its relevance to everyday life. I had dreams of being an expert in something that mattered. Not realizing that has made me second guess myself for years now. Falling by accident into a 9-year long career of nonprofit fundraising and grant writing made me an expert in that field and has been rewarding and failure-ridden.

There is still a part of me that longs to be an expert in something that is thought of so highly. Perhaps that’s my ulterior motive for writing. Because, especially while writing on a blog, there is no counterpoint. I get to be the one and only expert on whatever topic I’m babbling on about at any given time.

I think mostly though what really reels me into these stories is the adventure of it all. Not that I’m hungering to be chased by the police or assassins, but the thrill of discovery through thought and detection totally gets my blood pumping. I’m such a research dork at heart. That’s why grant writing was so attractive to me, it’s just writing research papers that you get paid for.

But even the most high pressure federal grant applications don’t get my heart rate racing like a good book.

Runaway

I was pretty crazy in high school. Lots of partying. Lots of drinking. A fair amount of dabbling here and there and everywhere with all things dangerous and/or envelope pushing. Because of that, when I went to college, I wasn’t all that crazy. I was actually pretty staid truth be told. When I arrived on campus, I had already stopped drinking and wouldn’t start drinking again for almost two more years. I was pretty focused and there to study, not party. I mean, yes, I stayed up way too late almost every night and went to parties, but I did it without killing anymore brain cells.

In high school, I was pretty good at just letting go and doing whatever the moment moved me to do. For better or for worse, regardless of regret come the morning light, if I needed a night of unrestrained fun, crazy or adventure that is exactly what I let myself do. Even when I did start drinking again in college, I never really got to that point again. And I gotta say that every once in a while I really miss it. The ability to just let go and be and do whatever comes next.

Which is one of the reasons why I ran away to Denver yesterday. Not only because I needed some art in my life. Not only because I needed some alone time. Not only because I needed some friend time. But because I needed to just let go and be. And I did and it was more fun than I’ve had in a long, long time. I charmed my friends into staying outside to play darts next to the chiminea when it was entirely too cold to hang out outside. I drank too much. I laughed more than I have in months. And I managed to kick some ass at the second game of darts.

It was grand. And then I woke up this morning to a whopping headache. But it was worth it. And when I called home to check on the kiddos, the guilt returned because they both had fevers. But I’m trying not to let that guilt sully such an amazing day.