Wild

Housing is almost settled "orz
Exchange also almost settled "orz

Regardless, Wild is a such an awesome book.

Review via Amazon:

At twenty-two, Cheryl Strayed thought she had lost everything. In the wake of her mother’s death, her family scattered and her own marriage was soon destroyed. Four years later, with nothing more to lose, she made the most impulsive decision of her life. With no experience or training, driven only by blind will, she would hike more than a thousand miles of the Pacific Crest Trail from the Mojave Desert through California and Oregon to Washington State—and she would do it alone. Told with suspense and style, sparkling with warmth and humor, Wild powerfully captures the terrors and pleasures of one young woman forging ahead against all odds on a journey that maddened, strengthened, and ultimately healed her.

Picked this up after reading her collection of advice Tiny Beautiful Things, it's just as good and honest and touching and great at tugging at your heart. Reading the book seems like the author is the voice in your head speaking directly to you, and you experience the all of the raw emotions that she did on the trail.

For some reason I've only ever read fiction in a haste (hurray for finishing the book on the day it was due back at the library), so I rarely take down any quotations myself. That's where google comes in (y)

The thing about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, the thing that was so profound to me that summer—and yet also, like most things, so very simple—was how few choices I had and how often I had to do the thing I least wanted to do. How there was no escape or denial. No numbing it down with a martini or covering it up with a roll in the hay. As I clung to the chaparral that day, attempting to patch up my bleeding finger, terrified by every sound that the bull was coming back, I considered my options. There were only two and they were essentially the same. I could go back in the direction I had come from, or I could go forward in the direction I intended to go

God is not a granter of wishes. God is a ruthless bitch.

The universe, I'd learned, was never, ever kidding. It would take whatever it wanted and it would never give it back.

I giggled. This was her response to losing one of her hiking boots down the slope of the mountain.

What if I forgave myself? I thought. What if I forgave myself even though I'd done something I shouldn't have? What if I was a liar and a cheat and there was no excuse for what I'd done other than because it was what I wanted and needed to do? What if I was sorry, but if I could go back in time I wouldn't do anything differently than I had done? What if I'd actually wanted to fuck every one of those men? What if heroin taught me something? What if yes was the right answer instead of no? What if what made me do all those things everyone thought I shouldn't have done was what also had got me here? What if I was never redeemed? What if I already was?” 

which can be summarized in

Maybe that was okay.

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Time to move forward with the reading list: