Woke up feeling a little melancholy this morning (12:15, actually), but I can’t complain because Saturday was as perfect as I’d hoped it would be. Much on my mind today, but nothing I feel like sharing. That is the writer’s perogative, right?
I’ll be back later with something witty and thought-provoking. I hope. Oh, the pressure.
I am the “cool librarian.” Never mind that I’m not a librarian. I’m cool. This, according to a 14 year old girl who seeks me out every time she comes to the library. She introduced me to her father tonight as the “cool librarian.” She comes by to talk about new wave and punk bands I loved when I was in high school-- The Smiths (Oh, Morrissey!), Violent Femmes, Velvet Underground, The Ramones-- and asks for recommendations for vampire and werewolf books.
What I really want to know is, does my coolness stand alone or am I only cool in relation to other librarian-types? Hmmm… Maybe I’d better not ask.
-- The application has been e-mailed. If not for e-mail, I never would have gotten it out on time. I hope they realize only lazy procrastinators submit applications via e-mail.
--Just what the heck is in Cheez Doodles that leaves your fingertips orange no matter how much you wash your hands? Ewww…
--Olivia Goldsmith, best known for her wickedly funny debut novel The First Wives Club, has died at age 54 due to complications of plastic surgery. She was having loose skin removed from her chin. Talk about ironic. Are you paying attention, Jae?
--The L-Word is hot. Same sex, different city. Check it out. Cute girls all over the place. I mean… whoa.
--I do not look good in hats and there is nothing I can do about it except cut my hair. Which I won’t.
--HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHANNON!!
--Valentine’s Day is going to suck like a Hoover, but I had fun buying Valentine cards today.
--My horoscope yesterday:
Don’t go anywhere yet. Fearful people count on your stabilizing influence. As much as you hate to put your plans on hold, it’s the right thing to do. Being needed is far better than having no one that cares.
I’m not sure if this is referencing the job I probably won’t get or something else. Not that I believe in these things, of course.
--I’m fine. Honest. I have a bruise that looks like some sort of relief map thanks to the size, swelling and vivid coloring, but I’m mobile even if I am sore. It’s strange to get e-mail from people I don’t know personally inquiring about my health. Thanks.
--I would kill for a chocolate brownie right now, but I don’t feel like making them.
--Number of saved voice mails on my phone: 17. Don’t ask me why I always hit “2” (save) instead of “3” (delete), I can’t explain it.
--I should be writing instead of this. See comment about lazy procrastinators.
Dear God:
I just wanted to take a moment and thank you for giving me a well-padded ass. Otherwise, when I went crashing down the slippery deck steps, I would have cracked my coccyx rather than simply bruising my bottom. I appreciate the thoughtfulness that went into my design. You’re quite the creator.
Best wishes,
Kristina Wright
Got my coffee fix tonight. I swear the stuff is addictive. What if there is a war and they start rationing coffee? Whatever will I do? Frightening.
A bunch of older women were at the coffee shop at 9:30 on a Thursday night and I was intrigued. I don’t know that many women my own age and these women (about a dozen of them) all seemed to be around the same age. I couldn’t resist asking them if they were part of a club or something (much to Nick’s embarrassment-- sorry). Turns out they had just seen Calendar Girls (and apparently the group had been even bigger for the movie). It was so cute. It made me want to run out and find a bunch of thirty-something female friends so we can hang at the coffee shop in thirty years.
Probably the thing I like most about Sex and the City is the girlish camaraderie. That’s nice and it’s fun to watch. I haven’t experienced that kind of collective female friendship as an adult, probably because most of the women in my age bracket are busy having babies or raising children and/or pursuing a career. Doesn’t leave much time for camaraderie. Also, it’s been my experience that the women I like often don’t like each other. Meow.
I was part of an all-girl pack briefly when I was much younger, but for some reason or another it didn’t last. I have hung out with different groups of women at various times over the years, but there is no real sense of closeness-- it’s strictly circumstantial. Maybe it’s simply because I prefer one-to-one contact with people that I don’t have that kind of group friendship.
One thing I can say about the friends I have, they’re an eclectic bunch and I wouldn’t trade ‘em for all the Carries and Samanthas in the world.
Brief aside while I’m talking about women:
I heart Heather. She’s awesome. (Page may contain some nudity and may not be safe for work.)
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