1) My hair is wavy most of the time, but occasionally I will wake up with these banana curls that please me no end. They always come out in the shower, but I have to wonder how they get like that while I sleep. Yes, I sometimes find my own hair charming. No, I don’t think that’s wrong.
2) Reading Sarah Rees Brennan’s tumblr page is often the only reason I stay awake in the morning. My phone is my alarm clock, so when I go to turn my alarm off I have a tendency to go, “Oh my bed is so warm and cozy, I’ll just stay here and axe having a productive morning. Sounds like a great idea!” But instead, I check Twitter to engage my brain an extra teensy little bit, and then Sarah’s posted something, and I click on the link, and by the time I’m done reading, I am too awake and amused to go back to sleep. So thank you, Sarah, for providing this excellent service to your fellow humans. Also, your books are good too.
3) I can’t decide whether to read more Terry Pratchett now or to give myself a break. I don’t want to burn out, and there is just so much good stuff to read. But then I think over what I might read instead and all my brain does is go, “But it’s not Pratchett!” and then I read Pratchett and my brain goes “So…much…Pratchett…erglp.” And then I think over what I might read instead and my brain goes, “But it’s not Pratchett!” My poor brain.
4) Hazel Rowley’s biography of the Roosevelts irritates me. I stopped reading halfway through, and I don’t think even the siren call of another book on my spreadsheet is going to help. Perhaps I need a new tab for the books I couldn’t finish/haven’t finished yet. This, Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, The Meaning of Night, Black Sun Rising, Lonesome Dove…
My parents would frisk me before family events. Before weddings, funerals, bar mitzvahs, and what have you. Because if they didn’t, then the book would be hidden inside some pocket or other and as soon as whatever it was got under way I’d be found in a corner. That was who I was…that was what I did. I was the kid with the book.
- Neil Gaiman (found at booksandnerds via Sarah’s tumblr, linked above)
I didn’t get to do this. My parents, prolific and dedicated readers themselves, believed in pre-emptive strikes. “Is that a book? You can’t bring a book to this. Why not? Because we can’t bring our books, so you can’t, either.” On the other hand, there were places I was allowed to bring my books. To small dinners with my grandparents, to the theater for before the show, to doctors’ waiting rooms, to most meals… I had it pretty good.
I think I ought to go write something else. Or take a shower. Or something. (Brain hopefully goes, “Pratchett? We can take a little more… Erglp!”)