My Kennedy

I've just finished reading an actual book. In Estonian. It was 200 pages and it took me about 4 hours. Yes, it's a miracle and a real success story. I'm not even kidding. I read an actual book that I actually finished. I can't remember when the last time was that this happened. I can't remember if I read any books this summer. For some reason I doubt it. The irony is that I do read, hundreds and hundreds of pages every week, but it's not real books and it really bothers me, a lot. I do love reading, I just find it extremely difficult to start a book and then to concentrate on the story and then to finish it. Everything is so much easier online.

But back to the book I've just finished. It's not a world-renowned timeless classic. Of course not. It's Stig Rästa's autobiography. The one I was supposed to get for Christmas but literally couldn't wait until then. I never read autobiographies. I very rarely read in Estonian. But there was something about it that drew me in immediately. Ever since I saw him speaking about his book a couple of weeks ago on TV I knew I had to go and buy it. I'm most likely not even the target audience but there's something about him that has always fascinated me. I don't know what it is but just looking at him sort of explains my more recent fascination with somebody else. Maybe one wouldn't be there without the other or vice versa or something as deep and meaningful as that.

Anyway, I'm not saying that the book was good. It sounded honest and was easy to read but there were several places where I would have liked him to add something or take something out or explain something in greater detail. There were certain places that shocked me and then there were the places that hit so close to home that they left me gasping for air a bit. And, to balance everything, there were a number of others that I didn't honestly understand at all. It's somehow comforting to know that somebody like him can be as successful as that but still deal with all the issues he mentions. It's a cliche, I know. There were a couple of pages where his narration was just so raw that it hurt and then the pages where the description wasn't as harrowing but the thing he described was so relatable that only the thought that I'll most probably have to go through with a similar experience once again pretty soon made me ache. There are time constraints and I have to find a good week to start but there are no good weeks to start in the next 6 months. It's a vicious circle.

He mentions astrology towards the end of the book and that he doesn't believe in it. I don't believe in it either but this is not the first time I'm reading something and have a feeling that the person writing it is just in some way too similar to me. I've just checked online and his birthday is February 24. He's a fucking pisces. For some reason I knew it in my heart although I had even no idea how old he was, let alone his birthday. Well, apparently he's a year older than me.

All in all, reading his book made me feel better. I still find it quite impossible to actually start doing things, but it made me feel better for half a day and it's a start I guess.