Title: The book of awesome : snow days, bakery air, finding money in your pocket, and other simple, brilliant things
Author: Neil Pasricha
Summary: Based on the blog 1000awesomethings.com, The Book of Awesome is a high five for humanity and a big celebration of life's little moments: popping bubble wrap; wearing underwear just out of the dryer; fixing electronics by smacking them; getting called up to the dinner buffet first at a wedding; watching The Price Is Right when you're home sick; hitting a bunch of green lights in a row; waking up and realizing it's Saturday. Sometimes it's easy to forget the things that make us smile. With a 24/7 news cycle reporting that the polar ice caps are melting, hurricanes are swirling in the seas, wars are heating up around the world, and the job market is in a deep freeze, it's tempting to feel that the world is falling apart. But awesome things are all around us-sometimes we just need someone to point them out. The Book of Awesome reminds us that the best things in life are free (yes, your grandma was right). With laugh-out-loud observations from comedy writer Neil Pasricha, The Book of Awesome is filled with smile-inducing moments on every page that make you feel like a kid looking at the world for the first time. Read it and you'll remember all the things there are to feel good about.
I like the idea of this book which, I have to quickly add, was recommended to me by Jolene. Yay Jolene :) A lot of the items listed (either by Pasricha or by others) have a nostalgic feel about them and took me back to my childhood. Specifically, back to a time when life was simple, anything seemed possible and, best of all, you felt protected and loved always. Gosh, adult life can be such a rude shock, can't it? In this post I do little more than recount five examples of what Pasricha considered 'awesome,' and give my reasons for believing so.
Reasons just as good:
Reasons I would love to have added to the list but I'm not quite at that point yet:
What simple things do you consider awesome?
Good crying jags are overrated. I'm quite an emotional person ABOUT THINGS. And by things, I mean books, movies, pictures, tv series, chocolate. See? Things. I'm not necessarily emotional about people. If anything, with people I tend to be a little too blunt and over opinionated. (Can you tell I have more feeling/empathy/emotion for book characters than, say, siblings? It's probably not healthy but I try not to think about it too much). Sometimes, I need a good cry. Just a few minutes to sit by myself and cry. With full on sobbing, nose running, red eyes. Totally ugly. Not one of those horribly depressing 'oh my heart is broken and not even sticky tape will fix it' kind of things. I mean the kind that feels cathartic. Feels good. What I do (dirty little secret coming up) is when I feel that I'm long overdue for a crying fest I chuck in a sad BUT HOPEFUL movie (note the 'but hopeful') movie and use it as a damn good excuse to just bawl my eyes out and get all the excess emotion out of the way. And then go back to daily life.
I love to travel. I haven't done much international travelling, but I have done loads of trips here and there around NZ and, as much as I've enjoyed every single trip, I love it better when I can come home to my own bed and my own pillow. Only then do I really relax and truly appreciate what a great trip I've just had. Nothing like time away to make the coming back so much sweeter.
Although, really, in my case it'd be bedhead PLUS pyjamas AND a marathon re-watching of Supernatural because this is what weekends are for. AREN'T THEY? (Deliberately forgetting the instances where friends have turned up and I'm sitting there on the couch, loaded up with popcorn/chocolate/coke, hair standing on end, in pyjamas and looking rather crazed. And like good friends they say nothing and pretend I'm normal).
Books are familiar friends. They're also about new beginnings, new relationships, new hopes, new expectations and, as ever, new possibilities. It's a comfort thing for me, I think.
I have crazy/mad/beautiful memories of a childhood lived in Wellington. A lot of them about family. My dad comes from a large family and a good portion of our evenings and weekends was spent visiting them, and seeing as how they stretched from Trentham, Upper Hutt all the way out to Thorndon, Wellington that'd be a fair amount of time sitting in the backseat of one of dad's ridiculously male excuses for a car. (And by that I mean the bright orange Chrysler Valiant Regal he used to tootle around in that came complete with a deep, growly rumble like an oncoming thunder storm). I always adored when we'd visit family, I just never appreciated the amount of time that either of my parents would think we'd need to stay there. Seriously - A FULL DAY? For an introvert like me, it was equal parts heaven and hell. By the end of the evening you'd find me curled up in the backseat of the car with my battered and much loved copy of Fantastic Mr. Fox. That book got me through many a social situation and I will love it forever. The part of the day I liked, though, was the drive home to Newlands: dark dark night, watching the glare of the streetlights as they flashed past, heading down Ngauranga Gorge and seeing the lights shine over the sea...and being lulled to sleep by the motion of the car because I knew that at the other end dad would have no choice but to pick me up and carry me inside to bed. That was when I felt safest, being carried by my dad. Funny the things we remember.