Tag Archives: books

Fall Is Coming And You Better Be Happy About It

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Dear Fall,

If you were a handsome man wearing a skinny tie, I would enter a lifelong, monogamous commitment with you never look back, which is a bold statement coming from someone who will probably change their child’s legal name at the age of three. Even if you didn’t have the skinny tie. If you were a food, I would eat you every day. If you were Neil Diamond reincarnate… well, just… you never would be. ‘Cus you’re too perfect.

I think I started to love fall because it meant the start of the school year. And things that smell like Christmas morning. And layered clothes. If you don’t live in a place where you have a change of seasons, my soul cries out in anguish for you. I know that you think your Christmas palm tree and your New Years Even sweat ‘stache photo is fantastic, but you’re really missing out. Here in Illinois, it’s starting to get that teeny tiny crisp in the air at night and I love it. That means that all things wonderful are packing their bags and headed my way.

Soon, the days will start to fade and sunshiny nights will be replaced by candles, blankets and anything that smells like cinnamon.

 Rainy fall days have to be my favorite thing. 

It also means the perfect kind of weather to cuddle up on the couch with a vintage copy of War & Peace.

But, I’d rather use it as a prop for my lamp. I like to think I’m giving more meaning to the book’s life.

I don’t know why I draw the correlation between globes and fally stuff. But I do. I’m sure it can be traced back to some sort of traumatic childhood experience involving creamed corn. Sick.

So, if you live in one of those gastly warm-all-year-around places, I suggest you plan yourself a trip to come visit me. I’ll make you a caramel apple spice latte and we can wear hoodies and play in leaves and stuff.

It will be a disgustingly awesome time.

P.S. I loved reading all your comments on Understanding Right Brainers: The Curse of the Creative. This is why I even have this blog, because I can meet people like you, who make me feel somewhat normal. You’re all insane in your own way and I love it!

Wondering where I went? I have returned to blogging over at my whole foods blog Celery and the City, where we live so clean it’s like your insides took a bath.

You Big, Fat, Fake Smart Person

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Speaking of things I collect, I may have mentioned it briefly in the masterpiece entitled How To Live The Best Fake Life You Can Imagine, or several times thereafter, that I collect books.  I don’t read them, as much as I like to give the impression that I do, while underhandedly using them strictly for decorating props.  I understand this is a perplexing and tricky dichotomy considering I’m a writer. But you know how “Those who can’t do, teach?” Well, I also find that “Those who can’t write, read.” You’re welcome to leave me nasty comments in regards to that theory, but wouldn’t you rather go eat a Dilly Bar or something?  Go with the cherry. You’ll thank me.

But seriously, the books are starting to take over my life.

bookshelves

So when I’m selecting books, my focus is on the thickness and color of the cover and how well it will coordinate with the lamp, random flea market suitcase, or bookshelf that it will be sitting on or in the proximity of.  I don’t pay attention to minor details like the title or the content.  I had an epiphany recently that I should start trying to solve all my problems by dissecting different sections of my house and seeing what they reveal about me.  [Go here to see what my freezer had to say. It was shocking, to say the least.] So, we’re moving on to my books.

It’s only fitting that we start with my desk area. It’s where I am sitting right now, talking to you.  It is also where I spend almost all of my meager existence being a hermit, writing and editing with bloodshot eyes, and listening to my nineties playlist while eating very questionable leftovers. Because I can.

forbidden-love-relationships

Let’s zoom in on the middle cubby. When I actually started reading the titles, I discovered that these books must have been stalking me during the past couple of years.

1. Places to Stay the Night.  This eerily, but accurately describes my life from the time span of 2002-2006.  If I could make one minor adjustment it would be “Random Places To Stay The Night While Escaping Your Heroin-Addict British Boyfriend, Overly-Possessive Italian Boyfriend, Or When You Decide To Go To Mexico On A Whim Or When You’re Wandering Around A European City And Refuse To Leave Your Wasted Roommate With Those Inappropriate German Guys.”

2. The Ideal Bride. Oh yes.  I couldn’t think of a better way to describe myself.  On opposite day.

3. To Love Again. And again… and again… and effing again.

4. Five Days In Paris. Please change to “Five Days In Paris Accompanied By: A Hailstorm, A Robbery, The Stomach Flu, Ungodly Frizzy Hair, World’s Meanest People, Mystery Meats Cooked In Too Much Butter, And An Unwanted Proposal.”

5. Ten Poems To Set You Free. UGH. Information that would have been useful to me yesterday!

6. Forbidden Area. Much like a fine art painting or Greek Opera, I’m leaving this one open to interpretation.

Here’s where you’ll actually get to know me: my nightstand.  This is reserved for books that I might pick up once in a while.   I don’t think it should serve as any surprise to you that WIT would be at the top of the stack, comfortably parked next to 50 Boyfriends Worse Than Yours.

How to Live the Best Fake Life You Can Imagine

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So the other day I wander into the Salvation Army.  Why?  Because it’s across the street from where I work.  And because I’m looking for some props for a photo shoot.  Ok.  And because I’m poor.  Why do our conversations always consist of you making me feel like crap?

Anyway, WHY I went there isn’t what’s important Inspector Gadget.  As I’m strolling around and sifting through the ginormous pile of other people’s crap, I am taken aback by the smell of mildew and grandmas.  I started to walk over to the book section, just to see if i could find some good looking books, and what happened next was completely out of my control;  thus, I do not take responsibility whatsoever.  [much like with everything in my life]

So I’m standing there staring at a huge wall of books and so I start doing what any person such as myself would do: peeling off all the sleeves to see if there are any books that match the colors in my living room and/or office area (they’re only a buck, and how can you ever have enough?).  In case I haven’t mentioned it, I collect books.  No, not antique ones, or special ones, or limited editions – just ones that match my color scheme.   I don’t actually read them, so much as I  admire them on my shelves and let them give the impression to all the world that I am mind-blowingly intelligent.  Because in all actuality, I hate to read.  And queue the following conversation between you and I:

you:  but, wait, weren’t you an English major?

me:  why, yes.  yes i was.

you: isn’t that kind of a weird choice of major for someone who doesn’t like to read?

me:  why yes.  yes it is.

you:  so how did you get through that if you hate to read?

me:  well, first I used cliffs notes and then i just quit.

you: oh.  so this all goes back to you being a loser then?

me:  wait, what?  how are you cutting me down again? this is a hypothetical conversation!

Alright, so to recap:  I like pretty books to put on my pretty shelves for my big, fat, fake life.  okay?  I can’t get enough.  So as I’m browsing the books, this man comes running down the ramp and says “wow, $0.10 a book today, can’t beat that huh?”  To which my response was “you’ve GOT to be kidding me!”  No.  folks, this was no joke.  Immediately, I started stockpiling them.   As I am racing to tear off every book sleeve possible before they closed, i am distracted by the following conversation between him and I:

book man:  find anything interesting?

me:  uh not really.  i mean, i really don’t care what they say.

book man:  (takes out a little gadget and scans a book)  well, i’m actually in the book business.  I sell used books.  This one is worth $94.00.  Anything I can help you find?

me:  well, I’m just looking for certain colors.  I only need them for my fake life.

book man:  (just laughing hysterically and sort of staring in awe)

me:  ( after ten minutes of conversation and filling up TWO carts of books) ….well, I think this is all I can fit in my car, but i got some really good ones.

book man:  well good.  good for you.  it was nice meeting you.  you are a very unique and interesting woman. 

….And when i got home I sorted all 52 books into piles by color on my ottoman and sat down on my couch to stare at the victory I had just won.  As I was staring, I realized that now my own living room had acquired the smell of mildew and grandmas.  But it was worth it, all $5.41.