in the house of tom bombadil.
I'm admittedly a little down still, but I think it's normal for this time of year. Summer has never been the highlight of my year by any means, and it's always a little stressful to look to the coming schoolyear and all it has to offer. It's exciting, but also tiresome to finish up one semester and immediately go into the next, as I never truly have a summer break, since my break comes in late fall and into early winter (which is the time where I always find the deepest happiness; not to say I don't like school, because I do, but it's wonderful to have the full holidays off to read silly books and eat too many sweets and watch endless holiday movies).
I finished reading the chapter in The Fellowship of the Ring with Tom Bombadil a few days ago. I tried reading a little of the Fellowship around the time the second movie came out. I had played the GameBoy game of it, which I think had been made before the franchise, because it's very true to the book rather than the movie. But I really remember the scene with Tom and Goldberry, and how odd he was and how beautiful she was. So naturally when I got frustrated with reading an insanely thick book at the impatient age of ten, I flipped to the chapter with Tom and Goldberry and read it. Since then I had completely forgotten all of it, but reading it now, at fifteen, something is so stirring about it. I mean, I've sort of always wanted to live in the middle of nowhere in a bright cottage with horses and the whole bit, but Bombadil's house is so deeply captivating. Tolkien is a genius. XD Which I kind of always knew, but really. There's something so deep in his writing; something very deep below the thin pages, and into the sound of the heartbeat all the words create in the chest of the reader. But not quite so monotone as a heartbeat, but more like a spontaneous but well-earned laugh of mirth. There's something there. So many books written in the past few years feel dull to me, as if the writer is trying to convince themselves that what they're writing about is important, or are too convinced of the importance. But Tolkien writes with the deepest sort of knowledge. It doesn't need to be forgiven for its own morals, or to be proven or justified. It is dark and light, joyful and sorrowful, deep and surfaced. It creates single sentences and paragraphs that the reader can hide inside, and live inside. It is, and it is wonderful and magical and it doesn't need to be justified by any man in order to be lovely. It simply is. :)
But how I'd love to live in a house in the woods, with horses and books all around me. Ack. That'd be swell. :)
Anyway, man, I need new music. @_@ I haven't bought a new CD in 2 months, which at least feels like a life record for me. ;) I haven't completely worn out the Prince Caspian soundtrack, but I'd really love something new. I've been listening to way too much Jars of Clay as usual. :P I really want Athlete's newest record. :/ Ack, birthday's in three and a half months, but it's allll going to the screenwriting program. :)
We went to Northside today to pick up the DVD of the Wizard of Oz play today. I should probably go off soon and dig into it and see what all this is about. I'm a little scared. :P They recorded Saturday night, which was by far the wildest of all the showings, where we all improvised and danced especially hard and used too many exclamatory! faces (though that's impossible in the munchkin scene). :P
I think I'll go do that now. :)
thanks for reading.