Tidbits
I just discovered a Sonic that is a mere ten minutes from my apartment that is open twenty-four hours a day. Twenty-four hours! The only thing that could be better than this is a twenty-four hour Starbucks. Which would also probably lead to me never sleeping again.
Friday's release party was a hit. Many books were sold, I was only mildly concerned about teenage girls pushing me off the chair I was standing on, and I got paid quite a lot to be there. There are hilarious photos all over Facebook.
I just read
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society and fell in love. It's fabulous. After
Breaking Dawn and this, I'm completely bored by the book I've been reading (see the sidebar, kittens). I keep looking for things that are really compelling, and I keep striking out. I find it annoying.
I genuinely wish that I liked the flavor of tea, because I think it would be good for me to drink it before bed. As a kind of ritual. The only time I've managed to make myself drink tea, it was a vanilla-infused black tea that I sweetened with honey and drank only because I could feel myself getting sick and was willing to fight it any way I could. I also spent those four days
taking cold medicine and ibuprofen, sleeping as much as possible, and wearing flats.
I know that the previous paragraph is very poorly written. In fact, I bet the entire post is. But I am both too tired and too complacent to do anything about it.
Labels: books, everyday musings
Black Sparkles and Red Nails
Today, for lots of teenage girls, is close to a holiday. The final book in Stephenie Meyer's
Twilight Saga,
Breaking Dawn, is being released at midnight. I, working at a Giant Bookstore and having read the books myself, will be selling the book at midnight. We're having a release party (think Harry Potter) with a prom theme. There will be dresses and dancing and photos and, of course, a King and a Queen. Because of all the hard work that has gone into the planning of this party, I have found myself really getting into the spirit, against my natural instinct to shy away from such things.
It started a couple of weeks ago when I headed back to Small Town for the weekend. Anticipating the party - and the fact that we had all agreed to dress up - I dragged the dress I wore to my junior prom out of the closet. Black with a sparkly bodice and a swishy skirt, I realized that I'm still pretty fond of it. The fact that it laces up the back means that I can actually still wear it, despite the weight I've gained in the last two years.
After listening to one of the managers talking about the books as she read through them, I found myself going back and reading passages, starting sometime last week. It reminds me of being seventeen. I try not to think about the angst that being seventeen seemed to bring with it.
This morning, thinking about what I was going to wear to work and how the logistics of changing from work clothes into the prom dress was going to work, I found myself thinking on at theme. Everything I'm wearing today is black or gray, with bits of red thrown in for fun. I painted my nails, appropriately, blood red. The batteries for my digital camera are charging. I am, admittedly, rather excited, despite the fact that I'm already sleepy and will being going non-stop from 5 pm till 2 am. And likely beyond.
Just don't tell the cool police. I can't afford bail this week. I have a book to buy.
Labels: books, my insanity, work
Syrup and Honey*
I cannot be the only person in the world who has accidentally started reading a series, only to be both excited and dismayed when the next book appears in the bookstore. And yes, I’ve done it again.
I use the fact that I am a high school English teacher – by training, even if I don’t have a real job – as an excuse to read lots of young adult novels. In reality, I enjoy them quite a lot. When
Luxe first appeared on my cart to shelve at work, I was
really excited by it. Set in late 1899 high-society New York City, the novel follows a girl whose sister and best friend are both in love with the boy she is engaged to marry – whom she does not love. She is in love with her family’s valet, who is also being pursued by the family’s grasping maid. It’s historical fiction that borders on trashy, except for the fact that it’s the turn of the twentieth century and girls just didn’t do that. Think
Gossip Girl, but these girls aren’t slutty; they’re just mean. The first novel ended in a place that I thought was pretty good, and I had no idea that it was going to go on to be a series.
Imagine my surprise when I pulled
Rumors: A Luxe Novel, from my shelving cart a couple of weeks ago. I just finished it yesterday afternoon, and I find myself excited to read the next one. Especially since this time I know there will be a next one.
I have a weird interest in this whole wealthy, high-society life.
Not the sort of things that we read about in People magazine that the celebrities do, but those people who are truly a part of the social elite. Again, think Gossip Girl. Growing up in Small Town, Missouri, I never saw anything like this, so maybe that’s where my fascination comes from. Honestly though, I find myself wanting to know what it would be like to be a part of such a scene. Knowing every morning when you’re getting ready that a whole slew of people are going to see exactly what pricy, designer clothes you’re wearing and are going to criticize your every move. But also knowing that you will be given privileges and will be admitted to places only available to you because of the name on the American Express Black card inside that Birkin bag.
Does this make me shallow?
*The title of a Duffy song that I'm in love with. It's pertinent, I swear. Labels: books, everyday musings
