Too late, Too Dark, Too Stuffy

I feel that my brain always functions best after 2AM, but of course it must involve me skulking around in the night in my house like an absolute creeper. I can have so much to think about and mull over in my head, because it takes me literally forever, (if not more) to fall asleep.

If the world was at it's safest, I'd feel comfortable to walk around in the night and take everything in. I can't stand still and think. Well, I can, but I feel useless standing still whilst I think of "great" things. If I am to think about philosophical topics, I must of course do something whilst I think of it. Just in honour of the thought.

So, what I've been thinking at this hour, instead of sleeping because it is unnecessarily hot even with the fan on, is about my increase in reading. Don't get me wrong, I've been reading for as long as I remember, I've always been encouraged to read. But as I deepen into literature that strays away from my childhood; Harry Potter, A Series of Unfortunate Events and Roald Dahl, I'm venturing into more complex novels.

But as I read more of these novels, I can't help but to feel pretentious. The more I read, the more I feel like a pretentious character. It would possibly not seem apparent on the outside, I don't really think I strike off as pretentious apart from the fact that people are aware I read quite a bit and I don't indulge in only mainstream activities but in a way, I feel like I am. This is probably because I think a lot, and I tend to over-think a lot. Often I tend to feel selfish, because I keep everything in my thoughts, but I never say them out loud.

Then I feel alarmingly pretentious when people tell me things that I always think about and I just nod my head and say "Yes" and "I know", always in agreement. I wonder if the person I am talking to wonders "wow, she claims to know everything." Or perhaps they may think something along the lines of like "She's pretending to know everything, I've never heard her utter anything of the sort before." Due to my lack of voicing opinion. This is terrible for a person who wants to do the things she wants to do in the future.

No secrets, just thoughts.

Just thoughts all in my head, kept under lock and key.

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Don Quixote

Light reading, anyone?

I'm just kidding. This is the next book I will be attacking, whilst simultaneously reading Cat's Eye by Margaret Atwood (which you can slyly see in the background of that picture in the green binding.).

Cat's Eye is compulsory reading for school. So far, I think it's brilliant. I love the way in which Atwood has incorporated time seamlessly. Atwood did a fantastic job on it. The plot is also very alluring - I'm trying to see where the book is taking me at the moment; the more pieces of information is getting unfurled, the deeper I'm falling in between the lines. Elaine's character is great too - she's one that I can relate with, despite the age in which she is telling the story from (frequent ages, may I add).

Miguel de Cervantes' "Don Quixote" was just something lying in my parents' reading shelf and I decided to pick it up. I promised myself I'd read more classics over the summer, and there is no way on earth I'm backing out of that promise.

Summer has been pretty busy - in fact, "summer" in academic reference hasn't even begun yet. As of Wednesday, I will supposedly be "free" to be lazy. That, of course, is hardly my intention this summer. I need to be 100% topped up on knowledge and culture. Lectures, museum exhibitions, summer schools, workshops,  events of all shapes and sizes need to be attended to.

Perhaps it's time to buy a calendar soon? And maybe a gigantic pot of coffee whilst I'm at it.

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