Back to my literature

The past few days I've been spending a lot of time on the computer. I've been browsing blogger, and working on mi madre's website, which looks a lot better now then it did originally. But this time on the computer has actually helped me to grow sick of it. I know, I know, a thing I thought would never happen. You may be asking, "Why are you typing this then?" I'm not sure. I'm taking a break from reading I suppose.

Last night I tried to start reading Stormbreaker, the first of the Alex Rider series, they just made a movie out of it, etc, etc. But for some strange and unforeseen reason, I just couldn't get into it. It seemed so predictable to me. I don't know, maybe I'm just not one for guns and shooting and crap. I only go for the magical violence, Mwuahahaha. Anyhoo, (and this should make the Magnificent Mikayla very proud indeed) I have begun reading Harry Potter again. I am resolved. It is time.

I read the first four books when I was in about 2nd or 3rd grade and absolutely adored them. I fancy myself one of the earlier Harry Potter fans. Funny thing about that is, as many things seem to go in my life, my mother had to force me into them in the first place. I have this memory of walking through the mall before I had started reading the book, and seeing all the Harry Potter paraphernalia in the store windows, and ranting about how I thought that stuff was so dumb, and all the people who liked it so much were stupid for going so crazy over something like that. Ahhh, Hannah, what a foolish child you were. But how was I to know that I myself would soon become sucked into the Harry Potter craze?

Once my mother sat me down and started reading the first book to me though, I was entranced. I read ahead. Ha, a little thing like reading together with my mother wasn't going to slow me down. Like I said, I was hooked. Insanely so. I devoured them. My proud status, up until now, was as such:

I read the numbers 1-3 four times. Number 4 I read three times. And 5 and six I only read once. Let me say, I'm not a big fan of the last two. In fact, I didn't even plan to read the 7th because I would be forced to read 5 and 6 again in order to understand what was happening. My Magnificent Mikayla tried to talk me out of this idea, but I just made her (not of her own free will, so don't blame her) tell me what happened and I moved on. However, I have emerged from my state of denial, and I have seen the light. I'm going to read the series again, and finish it with a big bang: the newest and final book.

I wasn't aware that I had all of the books except the seventh. Mikayla, I did give you back your copy of the 6th one, right? I have no idea where the one I have came from. So odd...As is my entire collection. Once I got into the series, my shoppingful aunt Margaret went noodly. I think it must be because of her and her belief that one day all this stuff would become collectors items, that I have 1 copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, 2 copies of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, 2 copies of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, a whomping 3 copies of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, 1 copy of Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix, and 1 surprise copy of Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince, as well of a collection of ornaments, bookmarks, a fake wand, a homemade Hogwarts robe, and a series of miniature character figurienes. Sure, I gave a lot of that to the Maginificent Mikayla, (as she was a more loyal fan then me. I dropped out pretty much after the 5th book came out and I detested it.) but I still have the figurienes holed up in my attic somewhere.

Ahh, tootleoo my lovelies. My father is pulling me away to the library where I can pick up the book from my other series addiction: the Keys to the Kingdom! Yay!



"And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"