Symbolically

I think it maybe a sign. A symbol of my faltering love. My ipod erased, damaged, no, killed my Writer's Block podcast of Daniel Handler's Adverbs. The podcast I have listened to everyday for the last 90 days. The podcast that I might have listened to twice a day during Report Card Crunch. Ok, maybe three times. But the soothing voice of my literary crooner made senseless bubbling all the better.

Maybe it is for the best. The podcast was a crutch, a mask I used to prove my love for my new boyfriend. I have yet to actually read Adverbs – combination of too many library fines and a disdain of hardback books. I glanced over the Snicket books, only to re-read The Blue Sword instead. You could say my love was more of a flirtation. That I loved passionately for the 40 minute podcast, and then forgetfully for the rest of the day.

However, I still have The Basic Eight on my bed stand.

Skeptically

Daniel Handler is my new literary boyfriend. It came as a surprise to me too. I will not deny, he is not my usual literary lover of the now: too dark, too foreboding, too not the garden party and floral dresses that is my literary life. Plus, I was never a fan of Lemony Snicket.

Then, with one night, one wheel, and one chapter, I was a changed girl.

It began, as all great romances do, at a book store. My defenses slowly crumbled when he skimmed over his crowded surroundings. His fingers danced between clenching and fiddling as he seemed to build an exit strategy. I love a nervous author as much as I love a good exit strategy. An author who truly wants others to enjoy his words. He just wants to share! Give him a chance! My inner nice self whined. My inner mean self decided that I would wait 10 minutes before embarking on my own exit strategy - the children's books display.

I never checked my watch. So nice! So personable! So witty! He was the poster child of all that I want from my authors. So down to earth! So just one of the gang! I was in the middle of my love affair before I knew that it had begun. Maybe it was the wheel of choice that bewitched me? Maybe it was his clever use of repetition that hypnotized me? Maybe it was my need for a new good book that got me. I was in love. I was in love with a man and his book.

Another One Bites the Dust

Well, this week was not meant to be the start of something new. Maybe "Book of the Week" next week? Other blogs that will not happen this week:

• Inspiration from Carl Anderson, or There is Much Missing from my Writer's Workshop.
• Crazy warm weather.
• Road trips with the pregnant.
• A Very Special Desperate Housewives.
• An ode to black tights.

Book of the Week

Inspired by Mr. Fred Bowen, I am here by creating blog deadlines for myself. My new day goal includes blogging one book review like entry each week. Best case scenario, I will blog Duck for President by the time election results are finalized. Worst case scenario, this goal will never come to fruition.

Happy Voting.

Private Matters

In the comforts of my own home, behind closed doors, I laugh while reading. I laugh, rather I snort, sometimes gasping for air. I hoot over crazy family scenes that play like a slideshow of my childhood - bad road trips, ruined family dinners, neurotic parents. I laugh partly out of relief - my father is not alone in his quest for the greenest grass in the subdivision - partly out of an author's clever word play. I am a sucker for language. Speak in puns and clever analogies, and I am yours.

However, in the mini dramedy that is public transportation, I confine my side aching laughter to a smile and maybe a quick in take of air. Yes, I do find myself shaking to hold in the giggles. But few would notice a passenger shaking, while all would notice the girl shrieking in hysterics. They might even call for help.

With strangers, I am naturally a shy wall flower; making this blog an odd outlet for my desire to write. I do not like to be noticed, I do not like to stand out, I do not like to be remembered, especially on the metro. Skepticism and apprehension were one of the many gifts my parent's bestowed on their children. Coupled with my active, and colorful, imagination, my apprehension easily turned into complete paranoia. How many middle school students choose metro stations based on good hiding places from gun welding maniacs? Luckily, my mind movies alone do not guide my decisions. I know I have a higher chance of witnessing a road rage car crash then a random act of violence in the Smithsonian metro stop.

Nevertheless, laughing on the metro is still frowned upon by the Emily Post in my head. Laughing would not only prevent the anonymity that I crave, but would, heaven forbid, open the door for conversation. Say the friendly stranger to my left is also a reader? Or the book cover caught the eye of my fellow pole hanger? My laughter might just be the invitation that normal, friendly people need to start up a conversation.

And as much as I wish it, reading does not allow me a one way ticket to invisibility. So, "Good book?" leads to a polite smile and chit-chat about favorite books, favorite authors, and of course, the awkward pause when the small talk runs dry. I wish I was a girl who craved, encouraged, did not run and hide from these casual conversations of life. What fascinating people I might meet, fellow books lovers, before bed authors, and home librarians. Instead, I hide in the comfortable world of social security and confine my laughter to my bedroom.

Reasons I love fall

• Because it means pumpkin bread which is really moist cake with chocolate chips. But saying "I had pumpkin bread for breakfast" sounds much healthier then "I had moist cake with chocolate chips for breakfast."


• Wearing black tights.


• Layers upon layers of scarves, sweaters, and jackets.


• The wind makes for perfect bed cuddling, book reading, sunshiny days.


• Swirling leaves.

Oh how I love the Sunday paper. The only paper that can rip me from my shelter of soft blankets and soothing denial. I spring out of bed with purpose, with urgency. My paper, my day, can wait no longer. It takes me through breakfast, morning nap, lunch, afternoon nap, couch comfy time, pre-dinner snack, post dinner snack, the shower, and bedtime. The read pages lay strewn around my room like autumn leaves, while the to be continued pages stack on my rocking chair. Waiting for an early morning read.

If only saving Sunday pages for later made everyday as peaceful as Sunday.

Terrible Teacher

While my students buzz share their daily reading expereinces, I am passing notes to the world. It is hard to teach reading when you would rather be reading yourself.

Someone left the paper out in the rain

I miss Wednesday's paper. It's advice, it's recipes, it's descriptions of food that I think I might like. Thursday's can never compare. I sullenly flip through it's sections. Skim the comics, the obits, the letters to the editor. Daydream of the comfort of Wednesday's paper and the excitement that will be Friday's paper.

Gratification

I purchased Kelly Link's Magic For Beginners as bait on Monday and bribed myself that once the paper was written, revised, and edited, I could reward myself with a deliciously strange story of choice. Needless to say, the reward was delayed as the paper was printed while I brushed my teeth for school.

Post teaching, post class, post CW Tuesday night, post watching the Met's lose, I finally immersed myself in the now late night, short story pick me up. What I love about Kelly Link's stories is that she often takes something fairly ordinary, and paints it as something truly strange and remarkable, but living in a fairly ordinary world. After reading "The Faery Handbag," I will never look at my purses the same again. Maybe my consignment shop treasures are also the portal to a missing country? One could dream.

I Should Be Writing A Paper

But I am not. I am hiding in a corner in the computer room reading Founding Mothers. I do not even like non fiction, but, I barricaded all of my fiction into my room. Plus, I hid the paper in various corners of the house. I am not sure where the Style section is; I would read any section over writing this paper.

So here I am writing about how I would rather be reading in order to avoid writing.