It's been a wonderful holiday, filled with much merry-making and festivities with the family. Aside from the standard holiday flicks, I am privy to some new gems. We also watched plenty of soccer, a staple of any meaningful time off for me. Amid all of the television and laziness, I have also managed to do a spot of reading. Mostly, I continued my informal research into coral husbandry, which, by the way, is only growing more interesting to me. I also made fair progress in the novel I'm reading, "Harlot's Ghost" by Norman Mailer.
It's funny. I consider myself a reader, and even by objective measurements, I likely read a greater than average amount. Still, in a family of readers, it's tough for me, the ultimate competitor, to keep from feeling inadequate. Some of my family members read SO MUCH! My sister Val reads more than anyone I know. It's just not possible to keep up with her. I'm not trying, of course, but still, I can't help but compare myself to her.
I think that should be enough for now. Being still new to the blogosphere, I am still trying to figure out where the line of appropriateness is. I know that not many people read this, but still, I am uncomfortable putting into the public domain descriptions of my feelings which are of a sensitive nature. On one hand, I like the relative anonymity of the internet. I enjoy the feeling of releasing my thoughts out into the void. It's cathartic. On the other hand, in some cases, it's just not worth the risk. Thoughts on certain topics, especially those which are not fully formed, should be kept to oneself.
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