May 17th, 2007

do what you love

Books and Romance

I went to Barnes and Noble today meaning to get a book or two and go. I tell myself this every time, of course, but I know myself, meaning I know that it never happens. Imagine the stereotypical woman in a shoe store. That's me in a bookstore. (That would be me in a shoe store, come to think of it, until I actually start trying on the shoes.)

The first place I went? The journals. Which makes sense when you think of their position to the entrace--straight to the right, past the new releases. I guess now's a good time to explain my journal-buying process.

I look. I'll look at almost every journal, ignoring the ones I know I can't see myself writing in. Some will catch my attention; others won't. Today many, many journals did. I held them, peeked inside--a vital step for me, for I'll be doing this a lot when I'm writing in it, and I have to like the inside while I'm writing--and imagined myself writing in it. If I didn't feel an instant connection, back to the shelf it went. If I do feel that connnection, I keep looking. Sometimes my attention will return to the journal I loved so long ago--in this case, just a few minutes before. Sometimes, if the connection is strong enough, I'll take the book down and give it a chance before committing to it. I'll take it down as I look at the non-journal items--today I was shopping for books. And in the end, if I find myself looking at the journal and smiling sappily at it as if it were indeed my first-born, I know that it is the journal for me. And to the cash register we go, where I pledge $10.95 and a part of my literary soul to it, and it pledges its pages to me, 'til death do we part.

That sounded oddly romantic. Since writing is one of the loves of my life, I suppose shopping for things to further my love is a way of courting. But just reading the above paragraph did remind me of love--that beautiful thing so many of us desire and cherish. I love how some people assume I'm not at all romantic because of my rather dry views toward romance, but the truth is that I'm just as romantic as anyone else, if not more so. Instead of writing about it myself, I'll quote a few lines from Sasha Cagen's Quirkyalone, originally in the To Do List Magazine:

"We are the puzzle pieces who seldom fit with other puzzle pieces. We inhabit singledom as our natural resting state. In a world where marriage and proms define the social order, we are, by force of our personalities and inner strength, rebels.
Yet make no mistake: We are no less concerned with coupling than your average serial monogamist. Secretly, we are romantics, romantics of the highest order. We want a miracle. Out of millions we have to find the one who will understand."

Here's the rest of the article. Quirkyalones have vibrators, guys. Just to let you know.

This quirkyalone is going to embrace her quirkiness.
le petit prince: ce que je voulais

I have a pony!

I never had a pony as a kid, not even one of those My Little Ponies. Mum and I went to the store tonight to buy stuff that I needed for this summer, and she asked me if I needed anything else. I didn't, but I still said, "A pony," not thinking she'd take it seriously.

"Didn't I ever ask for a pony as a kid?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied. She took me to the toy aisle.

"But I don't need anything from the toys," I told her.

"You're getting a pony," she said.

I laughed. We searched up and down the toy aisles until we found My Little Ponies. I chose a bluish-purple pony with blue and purple hair named Daisy Paisley. I didn't notice until later how perfect she was for me. Mum was waiting for her roast beef when I read the back of Daisy's box.

Birthday Month: November (Yay NaNo!)
Favorite Color: purple (close to lavender)
Favorite Treat: hot cocoa (one of mine)
Favorite Thing to Do: Discovering a new boutique in town! (well, if you count wandering around Atlanta as such...)

But we have quite a bit in common, as you can tell. This was definitely meant to be.
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