All the religious holidays have this way of making me want to confess things. Usually, when Lent comes around, it’s my confessing I’m terrible at observing Lent. Every year I consider giving up coffee but know I’ll fill the emotional void of not having my warm cup of motivation with me in the mornings with afternoon chocolate instead. When Advent rolls around, I have two of the same confessions every year: 1) A lack of basic understanding of Advent that exceeds the “chocolate calendar”, and 2) buying an extra chocolate calendar so I have two to enjoy each day.
It comes with no surprise to myself that Palm Sunday inspires it’s own set of confessions. Or the coincidence is that I have a few confessions and it happens to be Palm Sunday. Whichever the case, it seems like a rightful day to rid of the burdens that toll me and breathe in the fresh air of palms (and New Zealand fish and chips). Here goes…
Confession: Hi, my name is Lindsey. I am not as young as I wish I was. New Zealand is where I live. Washington is where I’m from. I’m strangely addicted to Hunger Games. It would be better if I weren’t addicted to Hunger Games.
It’s been a bad week at the Hedren New Zealand casa. A week of late nights, expensively caffeinated mornings, anxious workdays fueled with Reese’s peanut butter cups and a birthday sausage sizzle I invited myself to. It’s also been the single most accomplished reading week of my entire life — started and finished three books, and one more I’d started a few weeks back.
Two seconds to dwell on this accomplishment…. Since acquiring my Bachelor’s degree, I have managed to finish a single book cover to cover. (That book is Rachel Held Evans’ Evolving in Monkey Town, which I highly recommend.) But who knew that if you just put a little teen romance and some sci-fi infused competition in front of me, I’d spend more time reading in a week’s time than sleeping. I feel like Hunger Games was my key to defeating my book insomnia (that would be — the inability to read soundly and completely. I actually feel like a season of my life has been left behind and I am to dive head first into a new season — a season that would be useless without a brand new Kindle 🙂
Confession: I’ve manipulated my husband into believing it would be a fine investment for me to buy a Kindle.
Since selling my soul to the Hunger Games, losing a disproportionate amount of sleep and sanity, and riding a reading wave like I’ve been waiting for the perfect surf my whole life and it’s finally here… I’ve decided that investing in a Kindle would be good for my bank account (since I have bought 5 paperback books in the last 10 days) and also good for my brain.
All that reading is good for your brain. This is, of course, the reasoning I’ve used to persuade Colin (along with 14 reinforcing Facebook comments) into letting me buy a Kindle and the absolutely necessary floral printed case I found for it on Etsy with funds from our joint account.
Confession: In a competition for my attention, Hunger Games wins.
This also applied to Colin last week, unless he was offering ice cream or a back massage. Both of which can be enjoyed while still reading.
Confession: I’ve spent a majority of the day attempting to come up with Palm Sunday April Fools jokes. It must be like once in a kazillion years that these days fall in the same 24-hour period; the good humoured of us would think it appropriate for such a joke to exist. I’ve had no luck though, seems you can’t really mix Hosanna in the highest coming to town on a donkey with some kind of pre-planned hoax. Don’t think the man upstairs really appreciates my even attempting this. I suppose if he did, I wouldn’t have come up empty handed.
Confession: Last week I had four very serious conversations about whether or not Katniss should choose Gale or Peeta. It’s also a point of contention between Colin and I (I wake up him at 3 am for a 10-minute discussion on my night’s reading). Naturally, he’s on the “best friends” side.
I also found myself wishing multiple times last week that I could trade two of three of my meals for the day to skip out on work and read the next book. If that isn’t hunger games, I don’t know what is.
Confession: Colin and I celebrated Palm Sunday at a race track, with bratwurst and honey mustard.
Confession: In Hunger Games withdrawal, everything is mixed with the “games” when it enters my mind. Lent, friends in the office, Mexican night at our house — all find ways to make me think of Katniss, allies and the arena.
Example: The last time I heard someone speak about the coming of Palm Sunday all I could think about was how Katniss is kind of like the Jesus of Panem. Just the savior part, she couldn’t turn water into wine if she dreamed it. That makes the other victors kind of like her disciples and the Capitol kind of like her Jerusalem. She wasn’t welcomed with palm leaves, but I think that’s because the Capitol is located somewhere where palms don’t grow.
Confession: I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I’ve made up my mind: I like the Twilight plot better than the Hunger Games plot. Less corruption, more Volvo’s, and more Edward in Twilight.
I can’t compare the Transformers movies to HG though. God knows I’d never read that book. But Optimus Prime, he’s like the Haymitch of Transformers, and Sam Witwicky like a smart-mouthed Katniss. She’s a little smart herself. (Probably why I like both of their characters… it’s all starting to make sense to me.)
And I really think Star Wars beats out Twilight, Hunger Games and Transformers…
….APRIL FOOLS! I would never think that.