An Unexpected Interlude...

I want to apologize for my sudden and unexpected hiatus from this blog. I didn't mean to suddenly stop writing without any warning, but I have found myself struggling with some personal issues over the last few months that had momentarily caused me to lose enthusiasm for most things.

I find writing for this website puts me in the odd position of composing a blog that is not about my personal life or experiences, but about my opinions on books I've recently read, the book industry in general and the important role that books play in my day to day routine. The thing is, this is a personal project and my writing style has never been particularly objective. I've never been able to detach myself from my emotions when constructing reviews which I don't think is necessarily a bad thing. If a book doesn't evoke enough of an emotional response then any commentary regarding it becomes bland. Without passion, whether it is positive or negative, words become monotonous.

But what to do when my real life bleeds into my entries? I have rambled on about my quirky obsession with books ahead of some of my book reviews before, but nothing that wasn't somewhat relevant to the topic and always light-hearted. I'm sorry, but I feel the need to explain my long absence, even if only as a record for myself and no one else. It just feels too jarring to suddenly come back with a random cheery "I'm back!" post or flood the blog with my growing folder of backlogged critiques. So bear with me, while I get this out of my system and I promise I won't do this often or hopefully ever again.          

Looking back at my first post, I mentioned that one of the reasons I decided to start this website was because I realized during my shop's refit that I needed to make some time for my own projects and that my life was being consumed by work.  What I failed to mention then is the reason I decided on a blog as my creative outlet was because I injured my dominant hand quite badly and couldn't indulge in my other major passion: drawing. That was about 10 months ago and it has never really healed. Over the past months, I was let go from my physiotherapist under the mutual knowledge that my wrist was still damaged and a few weeks after that I discovered a small tremor in my hand.  It's a hard concept to wrap your head around that something that is a constant source of pleasure and pride in your life may not be possible to do any more. At least, not with the same ease or skill. It's a hard fact to swallow. I could feel myself unravelling; become unmade. Those events left me in a dazed stupor and I'm only just starting to snap out of it. I'm hoping that my hand will improve in time or at the very least I get over the fear and let my trembling hand finally hold a pencil again.

What I found both surprising and alarming is that for the first time in my life, losing myself in a good book couldn't shake me out of my state of apathy. I've always found books to be a great form of escapism. They are the only foolproof method that I've found where I can forget for a moment that I am me and lose myself in another world, another character and just block out for a few blissful hours all my issues and worries. They are tiny pieces of sanity I keep within arms reach for emergencies and peace of mind. While I can't say that I've had a horrific childhood worthy of immortalization in the 'Painful Lives' section in biography (whose books are easily distinguished by the cover images of a sad child set against a blazing white background), I certainly didn't grow up with a normal family or under normal circumstances. I think the oddness of my childhood years is what drove me to read piles and piles of books.

I want to thank everyone who has commented about this little experiment of mine. I never thought it would have lasted this long and it hasn't been a complete disaster. I'm looking forward to writing my next few posts. I'm going to tackle reviewing my first cookbook with pictures of my hopefully triumphant attempts to create something that looks remotely like the images next to the recipes, a review of a book from someone I "sort of" know and one from someone I know very well and my first "bad" review.

I appreciate all the kind words and encouragement everyone has passed on to me, even though I don't think of myself as much of a writer. I apologize for the seriousness of this post and I hope I haven't made anyone feel awkward in its reading, but hopefully you'll stick around and everything will be all sunny again. *smiles*