I started reading the Harry Potter books. Yes, yes, I'm still at home. Yes, yes, Mom doesn't know. Please don't tell her.
I got them on my Kindle, so there's no actual evidence that I own them.
Anyway, I just finished book 5. I have enjoyed them. I like them. I think they're great.
I hate everyone who has ever demonized them.
I should have been able to read these growing up, dammit!
I could've been one that grew up with the characters. I should've been there to see the movies when they came out.
On the bright side, I can binge-read them (although I didn't thus far) and I don't have to wait for release dates! I can also binge-watch all the movies, for the first time, if I ever can manage it.
I had to take a break after book 4. I just had to. I was too shaken. And there are 28 books (I counted them on my Goodreads reading challenge) between 4 and 5. I thought it was only about 5 or 6 books ago, maybe only a month ago that I read book 4. No, no, it was back in April. I whizzed through 5. I probably won't have the series finished by the end of this month, but I'll probably be done before the end of August.
I'm trying not to think about my upcoming birthday. Or the fact I've accomplished so little in 24 years. I'm trying not to think about tying bricks around my ankles and jumping in the bayou.
A change of reading material, you see, was definitely in order. Something that was positive in the shitstorm that I've made my life. Yes, I know, it's my fault, my decisions, my stupidity. Now I have to fix it, because damn sure nobody else will. Easier said than done.
I haven't read much fantasy this year. But I see myself falling in love with the genre all over again. When you're life sucks, you don't like any better what's going on in Mordor, but it sure beats the hell out of staying where you are.
THAT is worth everything. And if any of you religious types don't like it, you're probably not good company anyway.