A long time has passed since I last wrote anything here. Much has happened and even more is happening. I have grown and evolved mentally, as is only proper with time and age. I believe that we should always try to better ourselves and learn as long as we live. No matter how old or how young we are.
I have had time to think and time to look within myself, and hidden among the clutter was the desire to write and to re-launch my blog. The decision to re-launch was made because I wasn't happy with my old posts and all the negative emotions I managed to weave into them. I strive to be better and to rid myself of all thing bad, so I can become the best human and the best husband I can be, and I will do my best to be painfully honest here and share my thoughts, feeling, beliefs and everything else that might cross my path.
I will begin this the same way that I did with the former blog. With a book recommendation.
My good friend Lone loaned me a book she thought worth reading. Now I can be rather picky with what I decide to read, the same way I get picky about my milk. It really is silly but if I'm not used to it I have a very hard time trying it. That is why I tend to only drink one kind of milk from one specific brand, just like I only tend to read books from authors I am familiar with. It make absolutely no sense at all and I know it's wrong.The book was just laying there on the shelf gathering dust and I was running low on something I wanted to read. My lovely wife then make me pick it up and I must admit that it was a very smart suggestion. This book is fantastic! I am talking about Andrew Davidson's The Gargoyle. It is his first novel and so far his only one, but what a great job he did. Here is what it's about:
"On a burn ward, a man lies between living and dying, so disfigured that no one from his past life would even recognize him. His only comfort comes from imagining various inventive ways to end his misery. Then a woman named Marianne Engel walks into his hospital room, a wild-haired, schizophrenic sculptress on the lam from the psych ward upstairs, who insists that she knows him – that she has known him, in fact, for seven hundred years. She remembers vividly when they met, in another hospital ward at a convent in medieval Germany, when she was a nun and he was a wounded mercenary left to die. If he has forgotten this, he is not to worry: she will prove it to him.
And so Marianne Engel begins to tell him their story, carving away his disbelief and slowly drawing him into the orbit and power of a word he'd never uttered: love. "
I know I copied and pasted this but I don't want to ruin the experience of reading this book by revealing anything this doesn't tell you. The man may be stuck in a burn ward and you may think "how boring!" however, it's anything but. If you come across it give it a chance, it's well worth your time!
-Your Friendly Neighborhood Demagogue