Back you fiends, Back!

Alright... I'll admit it. I missed yesterday. But I do have a good excuse, I swear! I was reading till 1:30 and really didn't feel like blabbing to you all afterward. Instead I embraced that beautiful invention commonly known as a bed. Can't say I regret it.
What, you may ask, was so important to keep me up all hours of the night without even saying hello? Well I'll tell you. My good friend Charlotte Bronte and her masterpiece Jane Eyre were audacious enough to keep me from you. If you're not familiar with it, google it. I'm reading it for Later British Literature and of course I'm loving it. I've yet to read a book I really hate. I read the first ten chapters about little Jane's misadventures as an orphan persecuted by her aunt and cousins, then sent off to a dreary school where she is incredibly happier though often hungrier and colder than when she lived with her relatives. I don't wanna give too much away (get yourself to a library and check it out!) but really, some of the things Jane endures in her childhood brought me to tears. Now if you've watched movies with me you'll know I usually have strong reactions to them. It's the same with books, but worse. I blame my faulty genes. My mom has been known to shed tears over a hallmark commercial.
Now if you know me well enough to have watched a movie with me, you might know how I feel about children. It's definitely a love/hate relationship. I had some... well lets just say some not so encouraging encounters with babysitting in my time. I always feel a little out of sorts when my friends start talking about having babies and such. The thought actually sends a little spasm down my spine. But when I read books like Jane Eyre, that ever so small part of me starts to speak up, whispering things to me. Things like "I could love a little person with everything that I am. I am capable of that." That's usually about the same time I very consciously bring back images of hot dog throw up, poop everywhere, and incessant screaming.
Let's just say as of now the hate part of that relationship is winning. But not by much.