If I've learned anything, I've learned this. Everyone... has a story. Not all are willing to tell their story, and not all stories are totally fascinating and mesmerizing, but nevertheless, we all have a story. And some of us actually tell those stories.
It's no secret that I am a bibliophile. I've been reading since the age of four, and perusing the pages of a good book continues to be one of my greatest pleasures.
In recent months my reading time has been cut back dramatically due to the busyness of life. I find this lack of book time seriously affecting my attitude and my well-being, and frankly, I'm not too happy about it. I need uninterrupted time with a good book, stat.. preferably under a tree, stat... on a nice summer day, stat.
When I do find time to read I find myself gravitating towards memoirs. Perhaps this is because I'm writing one. Or, trying to write one... or actually two. Did I mention that I was also too busy to write?
I have picked up a couple of recently written memoirs that were brilliant bits of storytelling. Stories that make you thankful for who and what you have in life. Stories, that make you wonder about the strength, the fortitude and the undying tenacity of our brothers and sisters. Stories that explain how someone came to be just who they are. Stories that will make you laugh until you pee... and stories that make your heart hurt so bad that you wonder how a person could ever survive the memory of their own memories.
I'm hoping to find the time to read more captivating stories... and to write some too. But more than either of those things... I'm hoping to live life, and make more memories. Care to join me?
