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Triumph! I finally finished Wuthering Heights! This is quite the victory for me, folks.

Once upon a time, I was a voracious reader devouring book after book after book. In recent years, lamentably, my reading habits have taken quite a tumble and it takes me eons to finish anything.

Having finished at classic, I feel certain that I have turned over a new page (get it? get it?).

I have slain thee, incredibly dramatic 19th century soap opera novel.

One of the most unexpected (ok, one of the only) perks of working at a high school is, no, not summertime. Because, I am not, dear friends, a teacher; which is what most people automatically assume when I tell them I work at a high school. Rather, it's what the sumertime at a high school brings: stacks and stacks of discarded books, free for the taking. And let me tell you: I took home a haul.

Behold! My summer reading list!

To me, a discarded book (unless it's a novel by Stephanie Meyer) is something of a travesty. And the fact that students wanted nothing to do with the tomes they had already purchased at the beginning of the year is like a slap across the face of my soul. Then again, more for me right? So I adopted that lovely stack of books and they now sit safely on my desk.

This love affair with reading is hereditary, methinks. My parents were, and are, always reading something. Books are constantly lying around the house. My siblings were always swapping books and recommending books to eachother.

Some of my fondest childhood memories are of going to the library. Back then, you could always find me in the Cartoon section, devouring Garfield and The Far Side comics (my taste has matured since then).

And of course, a miniature Kiernan was always getting lost in the Library, having minor freak-out moments as she desperately tried to locate her mother who had assured her multiple times that she was "only going to the Big Person section." I knew better.

I think my miniature self would be disappointed that I didn't grow up to be Matilda, like I so ardently desired. Sorry, miniature Kiernan. This is what you grew up to be, instead:

This is what happens when you stop reading books, kids.

I think things changed when I started college and I was forced to read things in a short span of time, only to regurgitate and thereby forget the info I had consumed while cramming for a test. But no more, I say! No more. I am slightly tempted to become a hermit and lock myself up and just read all the time. I shall be a well-read hermit.

Now that would be some drama fit for a Bronte. Verily.


.....In other news, my hibiscus bloomed!

Meet Edgar. Edgar the Hibiscus.

Damn thing is like a pheonix: it blooms, then it dies. Then it blooms and dies again. It finally managed to bloom long enough for me to admire it before dying again.  

Way to go, Edgar!