Passages from a Blackout

February 9, 2016 at 12:57 am (Currently reading..., My 2 cents on nothing important, Recent Obsessions, Sharing is Caring, Thoughts) (, , , , , , , , )

I’ve read four books this year so far, and that is by far a lot more than I read by Feb of 2015. I think part of the reason I’ve been much faster at getting through books is because all four of these have been extremely powerful.

I mean,

Close Your Eyes, Hold Hands by Chris Bohjalian.

Room by Emma Donoghue

Luckiest Girl Alive by Jessica Knoll

You can’t get more stay-up-all-night, at-the-edge-of-your-seat than that!

But the fourth, and latest one, I think resonated with me the most.

Blackout: Remembering the Things I Drank to Forget by Sarah Hepola.


Here are a couple passages that I underlined, highlighted, read and reread again and again.

“I understood drinking to be the gasoline of all adventure.”

“Wine has become our social glue, the mechanism of our bonding. We needed the wine to shut out the jackhammers of our own perfectionism and unlock the secrets we kept within.”

“A certain group of women have made booze a very public and very integral part of culture. Young, educated, and drunk.”

“I drank myself to a place I didn’t care, but I woke up a person I cared enormously.”

“The nights I can’t remember are the nights I can’t forget.”

“I’ve always been mixed up about attention, enjoying its warmth but not its scrutiny. I swear I’ve spent half my life hiding behind a couch and the other half wondering why no one was paying attention to me.”

“People like me disguised our true feelings in layers of detachment, endless pop-culture references, sarcasm. Because no one can break your heart if they don’t know it.”

“The wine turned down the volume of my own self-doubt, which is what I blocked writer is battling: the bullying voices in her head telling her each thought is unoriginal, each word too ordinary.”

“The real problem is that I still fear my own talent is deficient. This isn’t merely a problem for writers who drink; it’s a problem for drinkers and writers, period. We are cursed by a knowing fear that whatever we are – it’s not good enough.”

“What a powerful voodoo – to believe brilliance could be sipped or poured.”

Spot on.

 

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