Semester One = Done

As semester one draws to a close, I believe it's about time to reflect on my initial college experience. Over the past 3 months, I've witnessed the vast majority of the initially over-zealous, intensely studious folk around me crumble with exam stress and fret about whether they have chosen the right course, whilst binging on Reece's Pieces and ready meals. Oh and I'm one of those, by the way. College has hit hard, and we're all struggling to keep on its good side, but we stand united. There's nothing more comforting than hearing the words "I haven't started yet either" from a fellow student, or lying in bed missing your 10am, knowing your also-still-in-bed roommate is doing exactly the same. We thought this would be easy, now that the dreaded Leaving Cert has been conquered. It's the hardest thing you'll ever have to do, they say. College is a walk in the park after that nightmare, they tell us. Lies and deceit.

Let's take this one step at a time. Attendance for example. First few weeks - perfect, 'golden weeks' all round. After that, people start missing their 9ams because they were out the night before - I'm baffled and even appalled, I mean think of all the vital information they are missing out on!? Eventually a night out breaks my streak, and next lecture I realise I haven't missed anything much at all, no harm done. Then the essays and sleep deprivation kick in and we get a little lax on the 'golden week' idea. 12 weeks deep and there's only one person turning up our Irish language lab (not me), and the debate to go to a lecture or stay in bed or Christmas shop is a valid, heart-breaking one. Now those of you who don't go to college may judge us, but we know what we're doing. If a college student feels a wave over productivity coming on, and is so in the mood to make a start on that essay and get shit done - we know full well that this is a rare blessing, one which much be respected and rolled with, even if it means sacrificing some note-taking practice. And if it's one of those days when we really and truly can't drag our ass out of bed into the cold, ever-raining outside world without crying, we give ourselves that time to recuperate, mentally. In other words - we got this, we've been playing systems for years now, college is no different.

Except college is so different. Not even the course itself, but the very idea behind it. This is what we have chosen to do for the rest of our lives, like as a career... Or at least it's what we have committed to doing for 4 whole years of our valuable, unrefundable youth. So if we've made the wrong choice, we're to blame, and we're pretty much stuck here. Yes, yes, change of minds, I hear you say - but the deadlines for that kind of stuff is pretty early on and once they are gone, the deal is sealed, and short of dropping out and paying full fees to do something else (every mommy's dream, right?) we're sealed in tight. So we are all one by one coming to terms with the consequences of that decision, and eventually accepting and dealing with it, in as positive a light as we can muster.

Also, college is the place where straight A kids start to see the value in just passing - a concept which filled us with horror a few months back. One must bear in mind that it's a Trinity experience I am telling here, and that I spend my days surrounded by the contents of the extreme right of the bell-curve. You need to be smart to get in here - that's a given. But you need to work your little tucus off and possibly sell your soul to the devil to be one of the smartest of the smart kids (most of the time we can agree that having a vaguely active social (and/or sex) life is more important).

All of this, coupled with the actual experience of living away from home is pretty overwhelming, I'll admit. One never realises how costly it is to get around, or to feed oneself until they move out (parents, we now appreciate you raising us, but question why on earth you signed up to this in the first place #didyouchecktheexpirationdate?). Not to mention that the prospect of having to make dinner day in day out is frankly preposterous and I refuse to believe anyone actually goes through with it. Pasta is dinner - we have spoken. Don't underestimate its power to fill bellies in minutes.

With all of the above sounding quite on the ranting side of things, it's understandable to assume college is terrible and we all want to drop out, but that's not entirely true. These are the things we have all had to come to terms with, and grow accustomed to in the past few months. Valuable life lessons are being learned, yada, yada, yada, and we have our (almost) fair share of fun. And the most important thing of all: we get to claim the #studentlife as our own, an extension of ourselves, if you may, adding to our legacy.

Sláinte, Sickness and Student Affairs

Remember when I said I wasn't missing home? Well scrap that. And about that sore throat I referenced in my last post, well, it turns out that it's most probably tonsillitis. What wonderful news to hear three days before lectures start, right? So now I'm just one week into living in the big bad world of independence, and am faced with sorting out doctor's appointments and medication, frantically, on the last day before the weekend, in order to try to survive next week's lectures, which I've been looking forward to for months. Right now, I want to run home to mummy, let her work it all out, and mammy me by bringing me soup, and tea, and stroking my probably feverish head (what college student actually has a thermometer?).

But alas I sit in my empty apartment with no salt, no honey and no cuddles. My housemates are all either gone home for the weekend or out partying arís (mar is ghnáth), which means I'm admittedly a little on the lonely side (bad health does that to you), but at least I'm enjoying the most peace and quiet I've had in over a week. Main concern though: I really didn't buy enough ice-pops to quell my darn tonsils' tantrum.

In less self-pity wallowing news, I've now attended both of my course meetings, and I'm more than psyched to get down to it. The lecturers have explained explicitly that while yes, us art students may have a ridiculously low amount of lectures per week (nine, not even kidding), we are expected to put in a 40 hour week, what with reading, studying, writing etc. I've already gone on the search of English books - and I care not if you think it's a waste of money, the library only has a limited amount of copies, and do not want to feel under pressure to hand them back in, nor do I want to settle for retaining less information just to save a few bucks by getting a digital copy. Third year students are a fantastic resource, with many unwanted second-hand textbooks that they are willing to part with for a very reasonable price, but some books you just have to go all out and spend that large wad of money to attain them, sadly.

Agus mo chúrsa Ghaeilge? Buel, bhí an course meeting ar fad as Ghaeilge (just as I feared), ach thuig mé gach rud a dhúirt an léachtóir (pleasant surprise). But yes, tá sé fíor - tá gach duine (almost) atá ag déanamh an cúrsa sin after coming out of an Irish secondary school, has many Gaeltacht experiences under their belt, or at the very least has gone to a Gaelscoil primary school. But I could keep up thankfully, bhíomar ag caint as Ghaeilge ar feadh cúpla nóiméad tar éis the course meeting, and it was such a refreshing, but strange experience, to have that opportunity, and to feel safe enough to break in and out of Irish as I please gan bhreithiúnas (without judgement), with people who crave that opportunity too. I've been very concerned that I'd be completely out of my league, or that it would be just like the Irish oral practice we did in school, but now I've realised that mo chuid Ghaeilge isn't too rusty after all, and that the Irish Leaving Cert oral preparation was so restrictive and confined, not to mention leadránach and intimidating.

Until next time (probably not too far away if I keep this frequency up), I wish you (and me) dea-sláinte.

Can We Skip Freshers' Week Yet?

College is strange. But what's stranger is this modulating point between holidays and actual lectures. As a Trinity student (yes I got in - no I won't develop a D4 accent, don't worry), I'm obviously a bit of a nerd. I mean it's practically a prerequisite. So I'm in an awful state over here dying for lectures, essays, tutorials, studying - you name it, to take over my life. My waiting continues to complicate things further, whilst I spend my time living in Trinity Hall, the home of nearly all the non-Dublinese Trinity freshers, who are throwing their heart, soul (and livers) into clubbing, and 'prinking' (predrinking). To sum it up: it's loud, and nobody sleeps. Not even this little nerd - who tried to club, I swear, but after two nights, realised it had made her physically ill, and pretty miserable - can curl up in bed and read her latest Hardy book without having to reread each sentence at the very least ten times to combat nearby chattering/screaming.

Yes, I do have a roommate. I'll admit I liked the idea. Y'know, you see it all the time in American college movies, people rooming with one another, bonding, having not-so-secret signals to indicate that the other is 'getting lucky' (that tie though, sooo discrete lads). I wanted a roommate, so I got a roommate. What confounds me is what exactly I must have said in my application that inspired Halls to throw me and Roommate into each others lives. Roommate is lovely, I don't deny that. She's bubbly, kind, not too messy (so I don't have a nervous breakdown), not too tidy (so I don't feel like a slob) and we don't clash at all. But as far as people go, we couldn't be more unlike one another. Even on first glance you can tell we'd been put together by an outside source. She's tall, blonde, and beautiful in the celeb-hot style way - while I would probably fit better in the short, brunette, cute in the looks-like-she-is-still-in-primary-school category. Even our heritage stands on different sides of a fence. I've been raised in such a patriotic, Irish family, that I cannot possible allow myself to study English in uni without studying Irish as well - while Roommate is as Bheal Feirste. Not to mention  hobbies: clubbing vs reading, socialising vs writing, I think Trinity's computer got lazy. But Roommate and I are good, we get on, it's just really not what I had expected.

Everyone else in my apartment could also be placed on one of two poles. The three of us English lit scholars take up the quieter pole, while Roommate and the two others operate on a much more demonstrative level, which frankly exhausts me just to watch them - no idea how they do it. People talk a lot about Hall not feeling like home. Some think we have to adjust, others think it'll never be home. I'm of two-minds. While I have no routine as of yet (meal-wise, arising-wise, exercise-wise, or even reading-wise) here, which doesn't exactly provide a feelings of being adjusted and settled-in, I don't miss 'home'. I'm drained, from the extreme amount of socialising that goes hand in hand with freshers, and hand in hand with sharing an apartment, not to mention my throat is sore, from two nights of clubbing. So I'm not exactly comfortable. But I went back to Cavan today, for a couple of hours, had lunch with my mom, and chatted, and I felt even more out of place there than here. It's like I'm taking up residence in a town called Purgatory. Not fully immersed in college life, but so done with life at home.

Coming back to Dublin afterwards led me straight to my first ever Dublin city sunset. I have a terrible habit of missing the sunset by a few minutes, or getting too impatient to wait for it to start, so I needed this. It reminded me that home is much larger than we seem to classify it as generally. Sometimes all it takes is a peek out at a blushing horizon to bring you back to earth.

Book Review 3: The Time Machine

The Time Machine, by HG Wells, is worlds apart from my usual read (I'm not a sci-fi kinda gal) but it was a nice little breather from the heavy reads I so love. Why, Silly Little Lady, what on earth made you choose such a book? I hear you ask. Well, my lovely inquisitive audience, I'll tell you why. One Christmas many moons ago, an even littler Silly Little Lady strayed away from her crowd of festive relatives in order to fetch something or other. She happened to glance at the TV, and found herself lost in the most enchanting tale of Eloi and Morlocks and the ever lovely Weena. She could hardly tear her eyes away from the Time Traveller's antics, and lost most of the afternoon engrossed, while her family was nearly about to file a missing persons ad. I do believe that a story that can tear a child away from her brand-spanking-new Santy presents on Christmas morning is one worth taking a little time to get to know. That, and I had a 'book set in the future' box just begging to be ticked off on my 2015 Book Challenge.

The Time Machine is simply about a unnamed time traveller (unless Time Traveller was a popular English name in the late 1800s) who begins to tell his sceptical acquaintances (can you blame them?) all about his awe-inspiring experiences in the year 802,701.

As a piece of literature, this is pretty basic. The writing style is simplistic, the characters undeveloped, but it's the plot that saves this classic. It's this novel that is alleged to have made the idea of time travel popular, and Wells even considers some interesting philosophies about future civilisations, and muses the purpose of intellect in nature: "It is a law of nature we overlook, that intellectual versatility is the compensation for change, danger, and trouble. An animal perfectly in harmony with its environment is a perfect mechanism. Nature never appeals to intelligence until habit and instinct are useless. There is no intelligence where there is no change and no need of change." It's thought-provoking ideas like this that many futuristic novels and movies today lack, and instead stick to the tried and tested. Y'see, time travel, I can take it or leave it, but when you turn time travel into a hypothesis of the future of humanity, count me in.

Overall, I did enjoy this novel, as silly and little as it is. As far as recommendations go, if you're looking for a nice little 2 hour read that'll give you a short break from tragedies and tearjerkers, and don't mind a kids book type read, go ahead and give The Time Machine a go.

Book Review 2: Tess of the d'Urbervilles

Book 2 of 50 ladies and gentlemen, and one I've been dying to read for quite some time now. Tess of the d'Urbervilles is by an English writer, Thomas Hardy, who was around in the 1800s. He's one of the greats, and he ticks off the 'book by an author you've never read before' box for me on my book challenge. Tess of the d'Urbervilles was quite unlike anything I've ever read before and has immediately become one of my favourite books of all time, if not my favourite book of all time (The Picture of Dorian Gray is pretty hard to top). The book is about a young lady by the name of Tess Durbeyfield, who lives in rural England, with her poor family who dabbles in agriculture. Mr Durbeyfield discovers that he is a direct descendant in a line of wealthy noblemen, the d'Urbervilles, and from this discovery, Tess's life and future is completely altered.

One of the first things I noticed about Thomas Hardy's writing style, was his ability to romanticise any seemingly mundane sight into such beauty and delicacy. An example of one such description was that of the deceptively simple shadows of cattle, "Thus it threw shadows of these obscure and homely figures every evening with as much care over each contour as if it had been the profile of a court beauty on a palace wall; copied them as diligently as it had copied Olympian shapes on marble façades long ago, or the outline of Alexander, Caesar, and the Pharaohs." To make such an observation, hinting at nature's neutrality, and suggest that in essence something so powerful as the sun should treat a cow with as much respect as it would a Pharaoh, is so inspiring and enlightening, and I praise Hardy highly for it.

Hardy's descriptions of nature and the sun, also seem to create a gap between his description and reality, the former seeing somehow embellished. It opened my eyes to the beauty around me. I was inspired to wake before dawn and witness what Hardy describes so vividly, yet somehow the muse doesn't compare to the artist's interpretation, "In the twilight of the morning, light seems active, darkness passive; in the twilight of evening it is the darkness which is active and crescent, and the light which is the drowsy reverse."

It is not only his descriptions of nature which appear to embellish reality, however. Hardy managed to add more beauty, wonder and character to that which is thought to be perfect and unparalleled: love and passion. On seeing "the desire of his eyes"  Clare cannot control himself and simply has to give passion its way and hold her in his arms, "Resolutions, reticences, prudences, fears, fell back like a defeated battalion." Looking at Tess through Clare's eyes: the women who has stolen his heart, was such a thrilling experience, and one so rare. It made me wonder about the extent of today's men's love and desire, which appear to dull in comparison to how Hardy envisions them, and begs the question: are their hearts lacking or merely their tongues? Do men feel this same level of passion, desire and love that Hardy did? Down through the ages women have maintained their interest in love, it's easy to see how much we hunger for it by merely taking a look around a bookshop or a DVD shop and seeing all the romances, but when did men stop writing about love? Did they stop feeling it the way we do?

Hardy does address the idea that time will bring a loss of feeling and emotion, echoing my musing that men in today's society may not feel love in the same extremity, or perhaps it has adapted. In the line "It was probable that, in the lapse of ages, improved systems of moral and intellectual training would appreciably, perhaps considerably, elevate the involuntary and even the unconscious instincts of human nature."  I am reminded of HG Wells' futuristic society in The Time Machine, which I shall be reviewing next.

On the final note of Hardy's philosophising, I particularly enjoyed his touching on the idea of a contained universe and personal reality: "The universe itself only came into being for Tess on the particular day in the particular year in which she was born."  This emphasises Tess's tendency not to over-analyse or muse about the abstract, and reinforces her character as a homely, stubbornly simple country girl, who desires to be nothing more.

Tess of the d'Urbervilles touches on the hypocrisy of men in society, and their demeaning, belittling attitude towards women, and women's pitiful devotion to their male counterparts. Tess takes on the role of a self-sacrificing, self-loathing woman, stereotypical of her era. Hardy portrays Tess as both an embarrassment to the female sex, and yet one so lovable. He paints a picture of a woman severely lacking self respect and perspective as the main character in his novel, yet I do not feel offended, as I often do when a man tries to use a female protagonist (often without success). This to me is a unique talent of Hardy's, and one that I do not myself pretend to fathom, but can appreciate its brilliance.

In relation to his characters, Hardy makes them alive with faults. Tess lacks pride and self respect, while Clare lacks compassion and has a narrow-minded, hypocritical mindset, typical of the time. Faults in general make a character human, but these faults are so drastic, that it makes the characters seem dramatically more human than we are today. Perhaps this is why this novel is so successfully tragic. It is so bittersweet and heart-wrenching, yet somehow I am left with a sense of peace, amongst all the warped justice.

What more can I say but: read it. Just read it, and reread it if you have some more time on your hands. I can praise Hardy no more; instead I sit, and bask in his brilliance.

Dear Extroverts... A message from us ever illusive Introverts

Dear Extroverts, 

 

As an Introvert, with close friends, family members and even a boif who are Extroverts, there are some things I feel you should know about us. 

1. We need time to refuel.

The nature of an Introvert is one who gets their energy from their alone time, and that baby is vital for us to function in everyday life. Don't get us wrong, we love spending time with you guys, but we just can't function on socialising alone. For example, last summer I spent 2 weeks in London with le boif. During the lead up the the holiday, I was super excited. 2 weeks of boif-time? Bring it on. However, I did have to warn my charming Extrovert of a boif beforehand that as excited as I was about spending time with him, I was going to need some alone time. A weekend without refuelling, we can do, but 2 whole weeks... could you go without sleep, food or water for 2 weeks? Umm... no way José. Anyway, I loved my holiday, but le boif had to understand that I needed space sometimes, and I read 2 whole books during those 2 weeks to keep me sane. Conclusion: we love you, but don't be offended or hurt when we tell you to give us time to ourselves. 

2. We think, a lot. Seriously. 

We're perpetual ponderers. If we go quiet, we're not upset, we are thinking. We don't feel the need to talk constantly, or fill all of those 'awkward' silences. In fact, we often don't notice them at all. So next time you see one of us staring into space, or closing our eyes for a moment, take a breather, we're fine, I promise!

3. We like to party, just not with strangers...

I love dancing, and I love parties, but I cannot even consider attending a party without asking the famous question: "who else is going?" It's not that you, Mr/Ms Extrovert aren't entertaining enough for us, we just know that you like to mix, and socialise, and we don't share the same passion for strangers. We have our friends, and we love them dearly, and we aren't constantly on the lookout for potential new ones. We're happy with our lot, and we don't particularly enjoy the whole meeting new people thing. 

4. We feel super bad about holding you back.

When we actually do go to that party with you, we want you all to ourselves, and we feel über guilty for stopping you from doing your thing and making new friends. But we only came here to be with you, and our other besties. We're sorry!

5. We like to listen.

Y'know that thing you were going to tell us but stopped because you thought you'd bore us, or that we wouldn't understand? Please tell us. We're avid listeners, and we care. Not to mention, one of the perks of being an Intro, is that our empathy skills are pretty brag-tastic. We don't have many close friends, but the ones we do have we take care of, and we have time for. So feel free to lighten your load and share. 

6. We can get pretty intense. 

We have so many feels. Honestly, we have feels all over the place. We Introverts are sensitive, and I, personally, can hardly go through a week without crying at least once over a piece of music, a book, a thought, that thing you texted us, anything. We remember most of the things you tell us, and can be easily hurt. We also love having deep, intimate conversations with you, and always want to get closer to you. But we're always that little bit scared of scaring our friends away with our feelings for you guys, or not being light-hearted enough for your taste, so we try not to let ourselves open up too much. 

7. We're secretly affectionate.

Most introverts are shy, and often guarded. But often what we can't say, we'll find some way to show it. We love you guys, you are our closest friends, and super dear to us, but instead of sounding over the top, like we feel, we'll share this by being physically close to you, smiling at you, reading that book you recommended or remembering to wish you luck the day of your exam. We don't want to frighten you guys away, but we just wanna give you all giant bear hugs.

8. We love one on one.

As much as we love hanging out with all our friends, in one bundle, we kinda like some alone time with you all. There are certain things we wouldn't share with everyone at the same time, or with all of our friends in general, and also, we like it when you open up to us, which usually happens in one on one time. We especially hate society's view on male-female friendships, and how one on one is nearly synonymous with a date, and we disagree with it strongly. We like our mates, and we want you all to ourselves every now and again.

9. We need to be handled with care.

Please don't push us into socialising because it's 'good for us'. Yes, we do appreciate your help in reaching out to someone new, and we are glad that you can bridge that gap for us. But at the same time, we don't need to socialise as much as you do, and we don't want that. Don't make us feel bad if we turn down that invite, or don't go overboard trying to befriend that person you introduced us to. 

10. We happy being who we are.

While we do envy you Extroverts from time to time in your ease of making friends, your way of breezing through social situations and your confidence in the matter, we actually don't want to be you. We're happy being the ever illusive Introverts, for the most part. We don't need pity, or help to become more like you. We enjoy your bubbly, outgoing nature, and we wouldn't change it for the world, but we love that we are what we are. 

So Extroverts, you've heard it, straight from the horse's mouth. I can only speak from personal experience of course, and we Introverts are by no means identical, but this has been my interaction with Extroverts over the years, and these are the things I feel you should know about us, in order to fully understand and accept us. 

Love, 

A Silly Little Introvert.

P.S: Disagree with me? Have anything to add? Feel free to leave me a comment.

Book Review 1, A Classic Romance: Pride and Prejudice

Cliché, I'll admit, but having neglected my duty as an avid reader of frequenting the classics, I thought I best begin my reading challenge by catching up on my fellow bookworms.

To start with, Pride and Prejudice by the ever lovely Jane Austen may follow a quite predictable pattern, but one must remember that this isn't just another rom com following the herd. Austen paved the way for all those terrible rom coms we love today, and therefore any claims of the plot being old hat and unoriginal are, in my humble opinion, mistaken. Also, personally, I was still kept at the edge of my seat in certain parts of the novel, even though I called the ending after reading the first chapter (and as usual, I called it correctly).

The plot centres around Elizabeth Bennet, a sensible young lady from a unique family, to say the least. Elizabeth's sisters are a bit off the wall, all apart from Jane. Her mother is a character and a half, who strives to get each and every one of her daughters married off to eligible, wealthy young men as fast as possible, while Mr Bennet is content watching all their schemes unfold. Elizabeth hates Mr Darcy from the first time she encounters him, and finds him arrogant, proud and prejudiced. Darcy's feelings towards Elizabeth are slightly more complex... The real question of the novel is: who is proud and who is prejudiced?

Characters, to me, make or break a book, and I can't fault Austen one bit in her personalities. Elizabeth, as a protagonist is sensible, responsible and warm, and life through her eyes is easy to accept and grow to love. At times I grew frustrated with little Lizzie, but that's the nature of romance, and I suppose it wouldn't all seem so obvious if we weren't passively observing the events unfold. Mr Darcy, was however my favourite character in this novel. Even through Lizzie's hatred I found a fondness for him, and his uniqueness was apparent from the outset. Ever composed, ever superior, Mr Darcy brought a touch of class to a world so full of desperation and coveting.

Along the journey that is this novel, I encountered many more an intriguing character, and although Austen did not succeed in making me "LOL", I did have some silent giggles to myself at Lizzie's cheeky wit, and found myself seriously fangirling over and crushing on highly eligible bachelors at several points in the novel. While the concept of personal gain, greed, envy and ambition taint this tale ever so slightly, there is so much sincere love and warmth at its heart that one can't help but look upon it with tender fond feelings. It's definitely one of the few read-ten-times-over books you encounter in your book-ish travels, and if you haven't read it yet, get with the programme.

Embrace the rom com classic, and find out for yourself where Bridget Jones' Diary stole its plot...

2015 Book Challenge with the Aid of a Shiny New Kindle

Absences the romantics say, make the heart grow fonder, or as the pessimists say, absences make the heart wander. So romantics, did you miss me? Unfortunately the Leaving Certificate grows ever closer with each passing moment of 'spare time', but in a few months I'll be all yours.

More to the point: book challenges. What better a way to force ourselves to eat chunks out of that 'to read' list, and force ourselves to make time in our ever busy lives for that pastime we miss so dearly, than to succumb to one of those new years resolution style lists, in which you pretty much read everything in sight, and end up with a book in your hand constantly?

Allow me to share my chosen Book Challenge:

Let me tell you, it's not easy to find an author with the initials C.B. though (thank goodness for My Left Foot). Anyway, as an extra challenge, and to motivate me a little more, I'm going to review each of the books I read, starting with Pride and Prejudice which I just finished.

Also as a motivating factor, I very recently purchases a brand-spanking-new Kindle, which I adore with all my being. Now for all you ebook sceptics out there keep your pants on; I accept your arguments, and I have lived amongst you for years, as my stubborn book-smelling, paper-feeling, sentimental self. BUT. Wait for it. After weeks of 'To Kindle or Not to Kindle' musing, my mind has recently been opened to the idea of le Kindle for numerous reasons:

1. My main reason is, books that are out of copyright, (if the author has been dead for 70+ years) are free to download from Amazon. That's soooo many books, and oh the classics *contended sigh*

2, If you haven't tried a Kindle you have to. I have the new Kindle Touch, which has no background light, meaning, just like your hard-copy, you need light to read it. Kindles are anti-glare, they have a paper like display, and are practically so clear they may as well be printed. Not to mention the added bonus of the search function, the percentage of how far you are through the book, the amount of time it'll take you to finish the book (although I don't find that entirely accurate so far) and the ability to highlight passages.

And finally:

3. Going Kindle doesn't mean snubbing paper. As soon as the novelty of your shiny new toy becomes, well, less of a novelty and less shiny it's just a cheap, handy means of doing what you love to do: read. You can still read your prints, I promise they won't evaporate or anything. And you're not betraying them either. I still love my ridiculous amount of books for an 18-year-old to have with all of my heart.

So lassies and fellows, join me in book-ing it up this year, and embrace the shiny new pieces of technology that live to serve. Even Mr iRobot got over his aversion to technology, you can do it too.

Also feel free to share your thoughts with me on Kindles (don't hurt me) and book challenges, or share your lists!

You stay classy bookworms.