onenintneenamandaboutosleep

Man, have I been busy lately! I believe such happens when you have two jobs, one of which I'm still a noob at. But with all this new responsibly and limited availability I have taken two things very seriously in keeping myself sane: Riding my bike to work (psh, rain or shine!) and going to Borders every monday to get a blackberry cream coffee (one of my very few caffeine indulgences) and getting a new book to tear through. Last week I went in with a list of books yo check from New York Times reviews I'd read and some other authors (*coughNeilGainmancough*) but ended up buying the first book I picked up which happened to be by Laurie Halse Anderson, the author of one of my all-time favorite books Speak. I will be honest, I picked up this book because of the cover (it's all blue and kinda sparkly!!. Then I read the first page of Wintergirls and I knew I couldn't leave it there. It follows the three month decline of Lia, a girl plagued with anorexia. I won't go into to much detail, but this book had me seriously captivated. It's terrifying and at the same time the writing is so overwhelming, I was amazed. I also felt so strange when I finished it. It got to me, something I can't say for every book I read....which is a lot. 

This week I was cruising the fiction aisle, and found Elliot Perlman's Seven Types Of Ambiguity in the wrong aisle, picked it up and took it home with me. I read the first page and thought "Goddamn this sounds like me." and after that first page it was not like me at all. It change so quickly that I am now sucked into this complex web of strangers who all know each other but not really. It kind of makes my head spin in a good way. This brings me t a tangent, my mom mentioned at dinner on monday about me wanting a mini laptop and what-not and went on to say that I should write a book. For pre-teens. Because I've apparently matured very much and my writing is wonderful. Then I was disturbed because any real writing I do is 1) not blogging, 2) is kept with me at all times, 3) is pretty much a secret, and 40 not happening very often till this week really (and this might only last a little while another lapse). I had really hoped she wasn't sneaking around to read my most private thoughts that I also don't share with anyone. I do find it amusing that if one were to know what it is I wrote about they could find it a) sad, b) pathetic, or c) obsessive, or d) kind of romantic. This is all entirely besides the point. I did however, alert her that I could not possibly aim to  pre-teens because of my honesty- which includes sex and cursing. Not exactly pre-teen friendly. And I wouldn't aim to become the next J.K. Rowling or Stephanie Meyer. My stupid naive  philosophy is that if I could reach one person then that's enough for me (or a few). I'm too laid-back and introverted to need global success. It weirds me the hell out. In any case, I digress. I would like to point out quickly that I am half asleep right now, it's past my bedtime. How strange to be saying that. This past saturday I went to Philadelphia to see galleries and a concert at the Trocadero. Good Old War, Heartless Bastards, and The Gaslight Anthem played. It was very very good. Good Old War is super and if you don't know of em' you should check em out. Gaslight and Heartless Bastards are also good (but I haven't had them stuck in my head for the past five days). 

I taught one boss awkward turtle and the other had never "Oh snap!" before. This makes me smile.

And that is all for now. Hopefully, I will do this again soon, it's been good for the soul.