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Reading along the lives of Women

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I just finished reading Sydney Sheldon, never thought I would actually BE ABLE to read it and finish it. It was on my shelf for like a year and a half now I thought at first it was boring and then it came tome when I was about a quarter finish that it was actually exciting and a good one. Has been my most prolific reading season, read Stone, Ruth Francisco, Sheldon and Cahill in less than a week. I also realized something (that even if i don't mean it and i don't intend it) my readings belongs to a certain genre, about women, stories about their childhood to death, divinity and humanity, timidness to sexuality and a never ending search for love and self (and all of those i don't intend). Sometimes i really wonder how does that happen, how in the hell does the books i buy, without even reading the synopsis and just "got it and bought it" all belong to the same genre. Hughton's murder of Beatrice, The Joyluck Club, Belladona, Houses of Stone, Like Wate...
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A kid sitting in the front door looking in the sky declaring that it was such a perfect day, a young lady wearing white t-shirt and jeans with a matching white belt walking outside the examination building, declaring that she will become a CPA tomorrow, and a woman reading news on her phone, thinking about the best way to gather business requirements about a big project. If I were to connect to my childhood and to the milestones of my life, the times that I was most peaceful are the times that I can remember most. After I graduated from college and after I passed the exam, I looked for a job and things started to be... different, life has become cyclical, wake up, dress up, commute, work, commute, sleep, wake up. Weekends are almost non existent because Mondays are always too eager to come.I would sleep all Saturday and watch movies on my laptop on Sundays. Never in the past 3 years have I tried to connect to that little kid, looking out in a blue sky, and knowing perfectly well that...
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