“There is no surer foundation for a beautiful friendship than a mutual taste in literature.”
~ P.G. Wodehouse
I truly believe this quotation holds merit; however, the problem I have with it is that I have not come across one, not one, person who has ever taken to reading and writing like I have throughout my life (besides my Mother, but she doesn't count in these situations, because we are already and always will be best friends, and no, I do not live in my Mother's basement). I have encountered numerous movie and film (in modern usage, there really isn't a difference between these two words other than a technicality, but I choose to use both to distinguish slightly between the the content's intentions) lovers, and so I have learned to satisfy my need to discuss stories through this industry, but at times, the shortcomings of movies and films are painfully obvious.
Not being able to find someone to discuss novels with from time to time, whether classic or modern, shouldn't really surprise me because I have rarely come across a person who is as curious as I am about things in this world. Throughout an average day, minor things occur, and I really mean minor, and yet, I find myself contemplating them to figure out their origins or motivations, or simply how they occurred. People find me exhausting and I don't blame them, because I exhaust myself, but I truly don't believe I'm an “over-thinker,” because I tend to be aware of when I'm making a situation more complicated than it actually needs to be or wasn't to begin with.
This lack of these type of friendships, or relationships, is why I eventually began my blogs, because if I couldn't have these types of conversations with actual people, I could at least continue to have them with myself.
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