Rope

Just finished Ernest Hemingway's Men Without Women and I admit rather shamefacedly that it was the first work of Hemingway's that I've read so far and he truly does live up to the hype. I think it was even better that it was an anthology of short stories because you can really tell that he's someone who uses no word without reason, every sentence and phrase is deliberate and concise and yet they layer onto one another in a way that lends a certain richness of meaning even though the words themselves are not very much. I particularly liked Hills Like White Elephants and Today is Friday, although trying to find favourites among the many was really difficult. It's remarkable how he uses repetition in a way that doesn't come off as gimmicky or trite or forced, and it's funny how the detachment brought about by his sparse style actually draws the reader closer into the story because you're forced to fill in your own bits of emotion. It benefits someone like me with an overactive imagination, I think.

Leaving for New Zealand in two days and it's quite surreal because I think, once we're there, time will just accelerate by and it will be time to say goodbye to December. Then next year will come around and while I'm looking forward to some things (ie spending time with Z before he goes off to the army, going back to RG to teach, etc) I am also dreading the decisions to be made and the things that I'll have to leave behind when I go off for university. I think the past 1.5weeks without Z have really made me painfully aware that it's not going to be easy leaving.

I can't have everything all the time, and I guess this is part of growing up. There are sacrifices to be made and choices as well, so I can no longer do everything under the sun and hope to get away with it like I've always kinda forced myself to in school. I kind of don't really want to grow up? But I know I have to :(