Confidential

The package was tucked in my box, sealed in a manila envelope, labeled as important. As I slide it out, hidden among the packets of Tuesday folder flyers and attendance cards, my fingers tingle with the contraband. Who knew reading could feel so devious?

I lent out one of my prized possessions today. I don't often share possessions of such a degree of emotional magnitude and I am a bit nervous. Not on the return - my personal library has no due dates.

And it is not that it is an All Time Favorite. I hand those out for free. Haven't read Emma? I might have three copies under my bed. You can keep one and then judge me accordingly. You might not agree with my literary biography, but you might enjoy the read.

No, this is a book that defined me as a reader, that changed me as a writer. Not only do I know the season/ month/ day I read this book, I know which room I was in when I read certain lines. I still think about this book on a weekly, if not daily bases. I know this is not saying much from the girl who reads Jane Eyre on a monthly bases. I obviously think about melodrama on a weekly, if not daily bases, too.

But this is a book that touched something - in my heart, in my thoughts, in my soul. I am not sure how and I am not sure why. I don't want you just to like the book. To appreciate the author's prose. To lose yourself in the character's life story. I want you to feel and breathe the book. To capture it, to take away some unspeakable understanding.

This book did not define me, did not identify who I am. It made me consider alternative versions of me. Versions that I could be, that I may be, that I will be.

I shared this book not because I want you to enjoy it, but because I want you to experience a revolutionary moment. Our friendship doesn't depend on it; we always have Emma.

Supers

My New Year's resolution is to temper my solitary and taciturn ways by putting myself out there and giving people a chance. Which is way hard and way annoying. I wish I resolved against swearing.

Case in point: yesterday.

I had a date with the super nice, but super boring. Making me the super mean because I was in super amounts of pain. He emailed later that he had a super time. There were no less then 3 smiley faces in that super email. I took it as a super sign.

That evening, at a bar: I assumed I was having a conversation with the snbsb. And for the most part I was; I know because he was wearing an argyle sweater and khakis. But then, he zapped me: "I am really enjoying this Tom Robbins book I started." What?!? Unsuspecting depth. "Then you must really like Vonnegut, too." "Yes, they have similar writing styles." Hmm, maybe I should have given him a chance. But he wasn't as excited about the Philly food trucks as I thought everyone should be.

Learning from my mistakes, I gave the super ass a chance, even when I should have run from his super shifty eyed ways. He was an aeronautical engineer working in the Netherlands for NATO. I know! Super cool. But he was super snarky and super aggressive. Dude, calling Ender's Game a fantasy was not a personal insult, just super laziness. The evening clincher: "I bet I can name more African nations than you can." I bet so too, super freak.

I hate Thursday nights during the strike even more then I hate Wednesday nights.

SO, I was ready to quit life, move to Brooklyn, and become a waitress this afternoon because I was tired, hungry, and there was no good tv on tonight. And damn it, I need fluffy, dromcoms to balance reading anything with value. Which means, not only do I have nothing to watch, I have nothing to read as I have already exhausted my stock pile of fluffy fiction that I am not embarrassed to rent/buy used and therefore, I am stuck with Gilead.

And Gilead should be right up my alley - a book that goes no where and is really for the word lover who is like, f* the story, tell me more about the sun set. I am all about a novel that has no complication, and ends when the author comes to a deeper point like, "The seashell glistened as the tide tussled it through the sand. I knew then, that I was the sea shell, and I was happy." What does the author mean by this? I don't know, but I like the word tussled.

With no near end to the writer's strike, I am stuck with only books like this where I must actually think because they have no obvious complication - never mind having a resolution - and are teaching me some Great Life Lesson.

But then I found this: http://mindyephron.blogspot.com/

I am saved from a deep, thought provoking life!! Because all I really want in life are predictable plots that involve scruffy, but smart and adorable, boys who happen to shop at the same grocery store as the cute modern day girl with the sassy hair; champagne brunches; and, of course, shoes with giant bows.

Quite Possibly My Favorite Adjective, if not, My Favorite Word, in the Whole Entire World

Wee. As in, the wee little hat looked jaunty on her sassy locks.

And I feel no need to explain myself.