Taoist, Buddhist, Catholic or Just Your Average Library Book Stealer?

Nobody has made an update since March. So, because my summer is starting to feel like one very large nap, I've decided to add an entry. I read a couple of books during the school year since my last entry, but I don't remember which ones, so I'm only going to be talking about the ones that I've read over this summer (my nap) so far.
Siddhartha. I like Herman Hesse and this book was listed as the number one book at Evergreen (so says facebook, and we all know that facebook rules over all our judgements). Truth be told, I had planned on reading it a long time ago. In fact, my original plan was to get really stoned one night and read it front to back in one sitting. Well, that was wishful thinking on my part, because I'm not at all motivated, spiritual or intellectual when I'm stoned. In fact, instead of reading Siddhartha, that might have been the night that I drew faces on all of my toes and ate half the kitchen.
So I read it, sober, this summer.
When I was in eighth grade I claimed that I was either a Taoist or a Buddhist after reading a book I stole from the library (that I still have in my possession), but back then it was only a way to spark some cringes in my Jesus-loving friends and to avoid the confusing ideas of my 'pagan' mother and atheist father. What I've always known, ever since the time that I was semi-capable of conjuring up existential questions, is that I don't give a shit where I came from, what I'm doing here, or what kind of rule-making deity exists. I just don't care. At all.
But what my twenty year old self understands better than my thirteen year old self, is that you can believe in nothing and still take away valuable ideas and teachings from different religions and philosophies.
Which brings me back to Siddhartha. I'm obviously not going to give up my material life to go live in a shitty shack on the side of a shitty river to gain complete enlightenment like the book's main character, but I can resolve to stop and admire the simple things in life. One of the themes I liked about this book, and I've always been kind of fascinated by the subject in other books by authors like Faulkner and Lawrence, is how faulty language is in expressing emotions and ideas. Words are just the transportation of our thoughts, and even are thoughts are articulated by words. And around and around. "It may by a thought, but I must confess, my friend, that I do not differentiate very much between thoughts and words. Quite frankly, I do not attach great importance to thoughts either." -Siddhartha.
All in all. Read it.
I also read A Theft by Saul Bellows. It was okay. I don't think I understood the ending. I'm not going to waste my time typing about that book though.
Instead, I'm going to discuss one of my new favorite Kerouac books. What? Tara reading Kerouac?
I'm so predictable.
But this is a lesser known Kerouac novel that he considered his best book: Visions of Gerard. Its a short autobiographical fiction about the death of his young, saintly brother Gerard. You can tell that he put a lot of emotion into this particular piece of writing. Its rather heartbreaking, and it helps the reader understand why Kerouac's lifestyle was the way it was.
My favorite part and my favorite Kerouac quote comes right before the death of Gerard. Gerard, nine years old, falls asleep in Catholic school. He has a dream that the Virgin Mary floats down from heaven, surrounded by bluebirds, to take him away on a golden chariot. A nun wakes him up and scolds him for falling asleep, but Gerard explains to the nun of his vision, that she shouldn't worry, that everyone is already in heaven, although no one knew it. Kerouac later says that he learned the most important lesson of his life from his brother, the all-important truth: "All is well. Practice kindness. Heaven is nigh."

So there you have it.
Right now I'm reading a book called Pedagogy of the Oppressed for my social work class in the fall. Some of the words in it aren't even in the dictionary. Phooey.