I don’t know what I originally thought this book was about, but it definitely wasn’t about an autistic boy finding his neighbours dead dog impaled with a pitch fork.
This was a book that I judged by the cover. I kept seeing these simple covers with ridiculous book titles and finally I found this one in a thrift store and decided I needed to give it a go without actually reading the back completely.
I can’t stress enough that not reading the back of a book can be so magical. It was a complete surprise as to what was going on and it was well worth the wait.
The beat of this book is different from my usual writers and the main character was very interesting to follow through his story. It was well written, well plotted, well developed and I really liked it.
A lot of people see kids and people with mental disabilities as just their supposed disabilities, but they get to see the world in a totally different light and I enjoyed being privy to that through a writer who did so in a way that wasn’t insulting or demeaning in the least. The story follows Christopher through solving a mystery of how his neighbours dog came to be dead and finding out much and more about the people around him and what he is capable of when he views his own life as being in danger.
Mark Haddon really nailed it and opened my eyes and I definitely suggest this book to everyone it was really cool to see through the eyes of someone who doesn’t have the same rhythm I do.
Hope to find more of his work soon!
Soooo….remember last week when I said that I wasn’t going to break my stride? Yeah. I broke it. BUT it was for a fair reason and I dare anyone to defy my decision in stopping.
Here’s some TMI for you: PMS boob pains. There are only a handful of things that could stop me when I set my mind to something (two of which are the words ‘Hey, let’s go get a poutine’ and ‘Let’s go watch Outlander’) and the very tippy top of the list is all period related.
Now, I’ve worked out during my period, I’m sure a lot of girls have, but there are two things attached to said period (well, I guess one thing is something trying to DETACH from me, heyo…gross word play.) that will stop me from doing an aerobic exercise:
1) My boobs become two (albeit smallish) sacks of sandbag hell where it feels like someone is continuously punching me in the tit while another person is putting them into a vice. Hello sleeping in a bra because it hurts to move.
2) Cramps that feel like I’m being stabbed by a rusty machete and it hurts to stretch let alone do crunches.
This weekend I had to cancel on plans with someone because the cramps were so bad I couldn’t (and didn’t want to) get out of bed. Instead I had to force myself up to get Advil and then made socks all weekend while watching Scrubs because moving from my Buddha-like sitting position was like being skewered by a katana.
(Upon writing this I realize I know more swords than I thought.)
Anyway, now that that’s all dealt with and I’ve inexplicably lost 5 pounds (I’m going to assume it was the child I never wanted and water weight combo.) I can recharge, restart, and be a little more prepared for the next annihilation of my insides.
All in all…fuck periods. Period.
For the first time in a month I’ve felt like myself.
I’ve been calling myself out on my shit.
Papa is a complaining jerk who doesn’t see fit to get off her ass and GET fit. Since I’ve moved home from Vancouver I’ve gained 20 pounds. Which is apparently just my M.O. because whenever I move home I gain 20 pounds. It’s super weird.
I was a wanker last week, let’s be real here. I was just starting out exercising again and that’s always really hard and I’m hard on myself and I cry and I barf in my mouth and then I pull myself together.
Yesterday was the first day that I was like ‘There I am’ while exercising. Not because I immediately lost those pesky 20 pounds, but because I felt stronger. I was motivated and not being a self-pitying twat waffle while crying. Although I did actually barf in my mouth a little bit but that was because I had a mimosa and then worked out.
What a dummy.
SO here I am about to do my 5th work out in a week and I’m proud of myself and I’m not giving up on myself (never do completely) and I’m so excited because I’m three work outs away from seeing some sort of change. (This is what happened the last time.) And even if I don’t see a change at least I know I’m on the right road for it. I’m working and trying and that’s more important than the fact that I’ve already lost three pounds.
Even if I keep crying, barfing, and being in super pain from working out (hello PMS boob pain) I’m still going to battle on because hell, I’ve made it through three work outs in a row, I don’t want to break my stride.