Old becomes new

Well, they say that when you are 'expecting' everything about you changes. I must concurr...cos sometimes I don't recognize myself anymore. Well, I do, but I find myself quite confusing. I can go from 'chirpy as a bird' to 'the world's saddest girl ever' within minutes - and that is quite scary.
But those instances are exceptions cos generally, I seem to be quite stable - at least emotionally, cos I don't really cry that often and my brain seems to block quite a few things out as if to help me not to get upset.

Anyway, here I am now, in neutral emotional gear, sitting in my comfy little flat somewhere in Germany - of course wishing I was in the UK amongst all my friends - but still neither really sad nor really happy. Neutral really.
My move to the flat was strenous but went all well. And now I have started to unpack the past and I am on an emotional roller coaster. I am sitting in my living room, using my ironing board as desk and breakfast table - I knew I bought this for a reason :-)  whilst going through all of those boxes of memories that have been securely stored away for almost ten years. I didn't touch them for several days as I wasn't sure how I'd feel about all of this. Today, however, I was inspired by a Snow Patrol song (obviously, I can never remember titles!) and it instilled some courage into my little heart and I've decided to deal with the past.
It's a bit creepy on the one hand, discovering things that once meant a great deal to me and now, when I hold then in my hand, contemplating how pathetic I once was, when at the same time being in awe: gosh! how naive and sweet at the same time.
The discoveries that excite me most are my books. My beloved books. Sometimes, back in the nineties, my books were my only friends. Their stories and lives were my escape from my own bulimic and emotionally abysmal world. I devoured them - just like I devoured all that food. But in contrast, I didn't 'spit' them out again but rather kept them stored away in my memory. I am so excited to see all my friends again: Stein, Thoreau, Ellis, McCourt, Carver, Morrison, Updike, Carr, McLiam Wilson, Coogan, Poe, Kleinbaum, Grass...you name them! The touch and the smell of those books - it's all very special to me. I associate certain experiences and memories with each and everyone of them. Like a small child, I am excited about reading them all again, making new memories and even new friedns. 
I want to read them aloud to my son, I want him to be enchanted just like I have been enchanted when I read those novels for the first time. Obviously, he won't have a clue what I am talking about but he can feel the stories just like I feel them. I am so thrilled!!
At the same time I am looking forward to engage in intellectual activity - as for the past months I had the feeling that my brain shrank to the size of a pea.
The difficulty now is to choose whom to start with. That's a tough one -  though secretly I know exactly whom to start with....Bohemian Paris, beginning of the 20th century...my favourite artists...all frequenting the same 'salon'...living their stories...
Well, I am off now...indulging in the depth of world literature!!