I have the impossible task of choosing which books I will be taking with me to college.
The Bell Jar, Fahrenheit 451, Jane Eyre, Mansfield Park, The Age of Innocence, The Grapes of Wrath... Orson Scott Card, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, George Eliot, William Shakespeare, Nathaniel Hawthorne. These are my friends; consistently more kind to me than any person has ever been--the company I've kept on even the loneliest of days. As I think about heading to Utah, I can't fathom leaving any one of them behind. Plus, I plan to study English and Creative Writing--everything on my shelf is relevant in shaping me into the writer I want to be. That's why I own it.
And as useful as the advice is to "just ship it to yourself," the dozen or so people that have advised me thus fail to realize that I have a better chance of seeing Jesus juggling chainsaws than getting that kind of assistance from my mother. If the task doesn't involve her getting a new Coach bag, she isn't genuinely interested in doing it.
Unless that changes, I'll be here--choosing between my children.
Which makes me think; if I'm already this attached to other people's books, how attached will I become to the books I will write some day?
I suppose I could always leave some clothes behind and make more room to pack what really matters.
Consider the lilies, right?
Monday, April 7, 2008
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1 comments:
You won't have anywhere to put all that, anyways! (lol) Look your books up in the BYU library, and take the ones that aren't already there. I know you'd prefer having them in your personal posession, but compromises must be made. You do have to wear clothes at BYU. (lol)
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