"the secrets of the worlds"

It's weird, I first read Jane Eyre in 6th grade. I remember it clearly, I read the majority of the book in a condo in Las Vegas in the first week after the new year. We had driven there, my sister, my mom, and I, with my sister's friend and her mom on january 1, 2006. holy crap. 2006. I think I just realized... that really was a while ago. wow.

Anyways. There were a couple different reasons we all went there, I'm not going to go into those right now. But we know someone who owns a condo there, so that's where we stayed. And I just remember reading Jane Eyre whenever I got the chance, reading on the balcony, reading on the blow-up mattress, reading on the couch, on the carpet, at the table. It's like... ugh, so hard to explain the feeling. Like, remembering a place. I don't just remember the place, to remember it is to remember Jane Eyre, Casting Crowns, old mini ipods, that green roxy hat, the blue men, the blue men kiss on my cheek, sophia and victoria, the animals in the hotel, sudoku, the hospital, that tv (oh goodness), the blue and pink bathroom towels, that huge mirror, the bird's nest, the balcony, that car, making scrambled eggs, the card table... just. the whole thing. the whole trip for me, just kind of meshes into this whole blur of different... things. You know what I mean?

(haha... no, camille... I dont... you make no sense. we've never been there, camille)

Anyways. this post wasn't even supposed to be about that. It was supposed to be about Jane Eyre.

Ok, the point is, I had to read Jane Eyre over again for school this year. And... it's a completely different book for me. Like, the second time I read it... it just seemed completely different. I've reread books before, and they've changed for me in the past, but not to this extent. I guess the first time I read the book I didn't really understand all of it because of how it's written, but it's more than that. It's just... not the same book. It is, but it means different things now. And it doesn't really have anything to do with analyzing it in class.

I do remember some parts though. There are two spots in particular... that I remember, crystal clear. Like, not just remembering the scene, but remembering where I was, what I was thinking, while reading it. It was pretty insane. I mean, obviously usually when I read books I remember where I was reading it before, but it was different because I actually already knew what was going to happen in the book. This time, I really didn't remember a lot.

It just... brought me back to laying on that blow-up mattress, that barely fit in the space between the front of the bed and the drawers, reading late at night, after everyone else was alseep, and me trying to stay up and reading this- at the time kind of creepy- part of the book. It's a feeling I'm very familiar with, rereading books a lot and all... but I don't know. It was different this time.

I can't really explain it very well, sorry you had to read this atrocity of me failing to describe something that was pretty stupid in the first place. I kind of realize that there's really no way for someone to completely understand a feeling like that that's in someone else's head. Like, you could have something similar, but then again you can't really be sure that it's the same thing. And you don't have to be. That's kind of the beauty of each of our thoughts being our own in the first place.

You know?
just kidding.
Wait what?
haha... sorry.



On a completely different note... spell check is AMAZING =D