Honestly.

I am totally hopeless.

I just finished TWO BOOKS. By Judith McNaught. One was a birthday gift from my sis. It was called, 'Almost Heaven'. And OMG. THAT book seriously is almost heaven. It is soooo my kind of story and tons better than 'Whitney, my love' which was what my rant in my previous post was about. And then I swiftly and seamlessly moved on to 'Once and Always' by the same author and I think I like that book MORE than Almost Heaven 'cos there are so much more layers to it. Not to mention the painful past of the protagonists make me want them to be happy. Plus, there were no real villains in the story. only unfortunately circumstances. That made it more believable and less like some lame-ass fairy tale. It's so GOOD. OMG. It didn't make me emotionally distraught till I had to pause and calm myself before I could continue reading as the characters were so frustrating. But it did make me emotionally attached to the characters.

This is worrisome. I haven't even touched my mini-shopaholic book. I'm, instead, clearing out the entire historical/romance genre. I think I'm getting too into the entire genre. It's like a drug that I can't seem to help myself from taking. I scarcely even realized that the day is over. It now Sunday 'cos it's 2AM at this moment when I am typing this post out. And I just spent the entire day in bed with food scattered everywhere, finishing 'Once and Always'. Right now, I am torn between getting started on 'Mini-shopaholic' which I had bought AGES ago and haven't touched. Or getting started on a a different genre like thriller and crime. Such as the J.D. Robb novels I've been meaning to try out. AND I am torn between continuing my Judith McNaught reading spree by moving on to either 'Kingdom of Dreams' or 'Until You'. After that I would have finished all her books in the historical genre. WHICH IS SUPER SAD. I wish she would start writing that genre again. Her contemporaries are so boring.

I feel a tad bit guilty. I mean, too much a of a good thing can be bad. I know that these books are just eating up my time and not really enhancing my brain or helping me become more knowledgeable or open minded. Knowing the different titles of olden times and how to address a Duke and and Earl is not exactly the most important information. But it's the only by-product of these books. That and my UTTER happiness and joy when I get sucked in and not care about my life.

WHATEVER. I dun care. I'm just gonna 100% dive into this genre unabashed and unashamed. People tend to be looking down upon it. And stare at me when I browse though that section in a bookstore.

(Sidenote: HONESTLY. The publishers should have enough sense to put more tasteful covers on those books. They are either utterly dismal and boring with pictures of ducks, swans or lakes and castles. Or they are positively disgusting with pics of scantily clad women with massive boobs and men with revolting long hair and muscles that only the Hulk could have. It's just so distasteful. I mean, it's not soft porn, you know. There is an actual character development and plot to these stories. GEEZ. I always feel like a kid in a condom shop when I am browsing that section and ppl give me the strangest looks. The new ones are MUCH better. More stylish. But most of them are still... Horrible. AND embarrassing to read in public. I can't whip out a book with THOSE covers in the train. And the swans and lakes thing... Not exactly the most impressive thing to be seen reading.)

I am so tempted to buy another one tmr. Maybe I'll try a new author now that I've almost cleared out Lisa Kleypas and Judith Mcnaught's stuff. After I finish 'Kingdom of Heaven'. IT HAS SO MANY GOOD REVIEWS. WOW. Okay, I am excited. I might just start tonight. =D

So far, 'Something Wonderful' is still my fave EVER. It's the book that started it all.

Okay, I think this is the single most boring post I've made so far. But I dun care 'cos it's 2AM and I am allowed to rant about my obsession with these darn books. I can't seem to help myself. They are like my own little barriers from reality. It seems the more detached I am from my life, the safer I feel.