I went downtown this morning after breakfast and did a little shopping. Well, I returned a purse I didn't like and bought a new one that I love. That's how I roll.
After that, I met up with Brian at the Embarcadero Cinema and we watched a little Irish film called "Once".
I really loved it, loved it so much. Though I gotta say the ending kind of made my jaw drop. Hope that's not a spoiler. It was just not what I was expecting. And yet a perfect ending in a way. Hey, kind of like the Sopranos?
It's time to start thinking about our trip to Chicago/Michigan coming up in a couple weeks. We'll be doing a lot of driving, to Midland and back, which I think I have done at least three times now. The heat and humidity will be a novelty to me. Must remember sunscreen.
Oh and I also bought a book today: "Dear Catastrophe Waitress". I started reading it and so far it's pretty good, though I am only slightly distracted by the use of the present tense, and I was disconcerted by the beginning where the story bounces from one year to the next in a series of very short vignettes. But it's okay. Just okay. We'll see.
In a way, visiting a bookstore while in the middle of writing a novel is very very depressing and disconcerting and overwhelming. Just about every new paperback with a female author seemed to have the exact same theme: single girl in the city lookin for love! Seriously. I read a lot of back covers and almost every one started with a variation on "Emily had a perfect life -- a great job and great friends, but no husband!" WTF.
I'm just worried that my story doesn't fall into any "niche." I mean, sure it has some universal themes like love and failure and loss. But it doesn't have a neat little ending with a wedding or a baby or whatever. Oh well.
I'm still having fun, that's TRULY all I care about.
Oh and one more thing: I decided to take a peek at my high school journal today. There is a VAST difference between my high school journals and anything written afterward. My god. This shit is so embarrassing I can barely read it. The only pleasure I get from it is seeing the names of my friends that I still call friends. That is pretty cool. I read the entry talking about the day I became friends with Jacob. :)
But I would also do things like write little fictional stories with kissing and sex (um hi not explicit) in them even though no one would kiss me until my first year in college. For some reason I had this idea that CRYING after sex was like, super romantic. Oh my god.
Tags: book, books, movies
music: Spoon: "The Ghost of You Lingers"
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