Tag: books

the return of the huh

I am barely coherent at this point, but sure, I will throw some words together and at you while I sip my cookie tea. You heard me: cookie tea! And no actual cookies were harmed in the making of this tea, so it is gluten-free! Ah, tea-chnology.

Various events over the past few days have turned parts of my life into a wobbly shopping-cart — you know the kind, one wonky wheel requiring an extra-tight grip to keep the whole thing moving forward. As a result, my knuckles are white but I am also chuckling vaguely to myself in the quieter moments, from a curious “huh, this is what my life is now” type of observation mode.

I would be more specific, but I refuse to break my streak of obtusely referring to Major Life Drama from the pedestal (lighthouse? watchtower? creaky treehouse?) of metaphor.

The HWF (Holiday Work Function) earlier this evening was bizarre — no dinner, just appetizers, and mostly inedible ones at that — and one drink ticket that I failed to use. The music was cranked too loud for me to hear most of the conversations around me, but I did chat with some colleagues and meet some nice new folks. I left after about an hour, caught a train, and read the first 50 pages of “Twilight” by the time I got home. The writing, while not fantastic, is enthralling, and I will probably end up reading the rest of the series. I would say something cranky about the fuss over these books, but I cannot muster up the faux-disdain.

What I will comment on crankily is my inability to read one book at a time. I used to be so good at that! Now I have at least 3, usually 5, going on at once, always a range of fiction and nonfiction, funny and not, so that no matter which mood I am in, there is always something to read.

… which might explain why I find myself employed in a building that houses hundreds of thousands of books. Huh.

grateful for books

When I started this exercise, I thought I might have some trouble enumerating all the objects of my gratitude, since I had been so focused on the negative for so long.  Not so!  Today’s entry is another easy one: I am grateful for books.  I love words and stories, paper and ink, the sound of a new book’s spine as it is first opened, the smell of an old book’s pages.  I believe in literacy and libraries, in the power of the written word to inspire and to inflame.  I learned to read when I was 3 years old, and since then it has been my fondest hobby.  It is the greatest luck that I find myself with a career in libraries so I can live my passion every day.

My beloved gave me Iain Banks’ Matter for my birthday, and I have been savoring it in small morsels ever since. Today I am grateful for it keeping me company while I drift in and out of achy sleep.

(This entry is part of one month of gratitude.)