The event wasn’t until 7:00 p.m., so I had time to kill after work. And if I’m heading in the direction of 14th street with some extra time on my hands, where am I bound to end up? Strand.

I’ve been there a total of once, during my grad school years. (Yeah, I’m not a stereotype at all—”Hi, I’m working on my publishing degree and hanging out in a swanky, independent bookstore.”) I don’t know how I could forget how much I love that place. I may have burned a hole in my credit card. (But they sell geniune leather-bound books!)

With a half-hour to go I ventured up to B&N for the Franzen event, figuring it was early enough that I could grab a seat for the reading. Side note: Despite my self-proclaimed geekery, it’s still a little embarrassing to show up to readings insanely early. I thought 6:30 would be all right.

I was wrong.

I get to the fourth floor (have I mentioned my love for B&N Union Square lately?) and it’s standing room only, a half-hour before the event. I knew Mr. Franzen was fairly popular, being a National Book Award winner and all (the only book award I really trust, by the way) but wow. Who knew there were so many literary people in New York? And why aren’t we friends?

So I’m standing around overhearing people talk about their love of books. This would normally be okay, except for the fact that 1) they weren’t talking to me, and 2) the guy I was eavesdropping on was a know-it-all. I was waiting for him to say something wrong so I could promptly correct him, but alas. He knew what he was talking about.

Jonathan Franzen: He’s pretty fantastic. I think the sheer number of people watching him made him a little nervous (wouldn’t you be?), but he has an excellent speaking voice and the words to match. I don’t know what he read, because I couldn’t hear the introduction. But it was both sad and humorous, and I could have listened to him speak all night if I were able.

I mean that literally, by the way. After an hour of standing, cramped around people, the lack of oxygen started to affect my brain. I had to leave early lest I pass out, which means I missed both the end of the reading and the signing. It was a sad ending to a glorious night.

But I located another reading of his in December. We’re going to try this again. I will get my copy of The Corrections signed.

The Secret of Lost Things; Sheridan Hay
I really wanted to like this story. It’s focused around Rosemary, a young girl working in a mysterious bookstore, learning about the world around her. A literary coming-of-age, if you will. But there were so many things I didn’t like that it distracted me from any potential good in it.

Flowers in the Attic/Petals on the Wind; V.C. Andrews
It was about time I picked up this one—the one that, when I mentioned to others that I planned to read it, either gushed over it or gave me a look of horror.
It’s just as bad as I expected. I mean, in a cringe-worthy way.

Oscar Wilde and the Dead Man’s Smile; Gyles Brandreth
I was pretty much convinced that I would read all these “Oscar Wilde” mysteries, because I so enjoyed A Death of No Importance. I didn’t like this one as much, though it was still a fun read. While the first book focused on both story and style, this one was primarily the latter—I often found myself wondering what the plot was, and if they did anything but drink absinthe and champagne at all hours of the day.

The Secret Hour; Scott Westerfeld
It’s a pretty cool concept. There’s a 25th hour of every day in which time stops, and only certain people can experience it. And it goes through all the cool and terrifying things that happen during this time… it’s a fun little read, and I need to own the rest of the series. Then I can properly judge.

Old School; Tobias Wolff
I think I love Tobias Wolff. His words are literary yet easy to digest, characters complex and familiar. And the fact that our unnamed narrator, and most his friends, are aspiring writers helps me relate more to their worries.

But apparently, lately I actually receive visitors. And more than once, my beloved domain has gone over its bandwidth and run out of space. (There’s a good reason I had to move my portfolio over to DeviantART.) I decided it was time for an upgrade. Still, $100 a year isn’t so bad. I pay more than that to park my car at the train station. (No, really. Not kidding.) And it makes me feel special, knowing I could no longer manage with the lowest of the lowest hosting plan.

Of course, my real question is… where are all my visitors? Apparently someone stops by here if I keep on running out of bandwidth. Leave me a comment. Make me feel loved. I know you’re out there. *evil eye*

The site upgrade is just in time for NaNoWriMo, too. I’ll be doing plenty of uploading in November during my writing spree. You should join me. It’s a good time.

*Eight years? Where does the time go?

 

Mary Poppins is probably my favorite children’s movie. I don’t know if I liked it as much when I was a child, but the more I think about it the more I adore it. Set in dreary old London, a proper lady floating from the sky to save the day. What about this plot would I not love?

Of course I’ve seen the Broadway show as well. My cousins love me enough to have braved the New York City streets the day before New Year’s Eve, so I didn’t have to see the show alone on my birthday. (For the record, we’re never doing that again. My goodness, the crowds.) The show is a little darker, a little different, than the movie itself, but it still made my inner little girl squeal with delight. I want Mary’s entire wardrobe, all her coats, and especially her umbrella. Which I’ve considered buying. (And they have a mini carpet bag! I want one just so I can carry it while donning my red coat.)

Despite all this, I don’t own the movie on DVD. Sure, we still have the classic VHS version (with the big, puffy Disney case), but this doesn’t mean much when you no longer own a VCR. Unfortunate, too, as I often find myself needing to watch it. And what’s up, Netflix, with not having it on the instant queue? What’s wrong with you?

This week during my trip to work, when I had to jack the volume to max in order to hear anything, I figured that maybe it’s time for an upgrade. I’ve considered it before, but I never did anything about it.

The concept of new electronics is daunting. I logged onto the Apple website and checked out the options, not really wanting something I already have—I’d just keep it, if that were the case, poor volume and all. But it jumped out at me—the one I should have had all along, the gadget to boost my geek status up a notch—the iPod Touch.

It’s the closet thing I’ll get to a fancy phone. I don’t like fancy phones. I can’t imagine holding something of that size to my face to talk to someone. But the iPod Touch is basically an iPhone, without a phone. Considering my viewpoint toward fancy phones, it seemed the only logical option. After three days of stalking FedEx tracking, he arrived happily at my doorstep.

I went with the 8GB version because, honestly, I’m cheap. But I don’t store that much music at once (A whole 1.7 GB!), and I don’t plan to load it down with apps. Right now, I’ve only downloaded apps for twitter, goodreads, and Pandora. These things are important. The rest I can live without.

For inquiring minds, his name is Shinon, after my favorite Fire Emblem archer. It’s the only thing I could think of, which is sad. To top off the geekiness, I also have my initials engraved on the back… in binary.

I’m rather excited about my new purchase; it’s probably the most expensive toy I’ve bought for myself. And I feel complete, like part of my Apple life had been missing before he arrived. Really, I just like messing with the touch pad and going into apps without a reason for it. The controls are so smooth and it’s fun to play with. I can’t wait for the work week to begin just so I can actually use it as an iPod. (And also hear my music properly as I walk the city streets.) Though I’m also afraid to remove it from my house. It’s so shiny & new.

And yes, I do have a protective screen cover and case. So it’s not like any part of Shinon is actually exposed to the elements. But still.

In honor of lefty day, here’s a list of contraptions that are clearly made for the right-handed world:

1. Can openers. Designs have gotten better, especially with the ones that work from the top of the can, rather than the side. Usually, I end up locking the blade on the can’s rim and then cranking it with my left hand, backwards. It’s a sight to be seen.

2. Keyboards. The computer variety, that is. All the necessary non-letter keys are on the right—number pad, return, arrow keys, etc. And on that note, computer mice, too. Though that’s easy enough to swap the buttons if you want. (Though I use my mouse on the left side, I use my middle finger for primary clicking. Why haven’t I changed this? I don’t know.)

3. Rulers. The numbers go from left to right. If you’re holding it down with your right hand, and try to draw a line using the left starting at zero… Well, let’s just say that most of my measured lines wind up being crooked.

4. Scissors. I accidentally stole a pair of lefty scissors from my second grade teacher. I still use them. While most scissors now claim to be lefty-friendly, they’re still easier to use with the right hand. The cutting edge is viewed easier from that side.

5. Books & Magazines. When I mindlessly flip through a magazine, I start from the back. It’s just a pain to reach over your reading material to turn a page. Silly English language, making us read from left-to-right.

As luck may have it, there’s a lefty counterpart for nearly everything. They have special left-handed stores for these things. (Unfortunately, there isn’t much you can do for books.) At the same time, we’ve grown accustomed to living in a right-handed world so using lefty merchandise in some cases would take getting used to. Since every pair of scissors I own is designed for righties (aside from that one I stole from school, shh) I’ve taught myself to cut using my right hand. It’s a little awkward now with the left.

I also feel most lefties are quasi-ambidextrous. We kind of have to be. I can use my keyboard number pad with the right hand, rather quickly, while jotting notes down with the left at the same time. It’s a handy skill to have (heh. Handy).

In fact, I was ambidextrous to a point, in my younger years. I recall sitting in my kindergarten class, coloring a picture, and when my hand got tired I switched to the other. Apparently I settled on a preference at some point.

And it was an excellent decision.

My local Borders has reorganized things, which confused me at first. It’s manageable, except that sections are in different locations. The store’s not huge, so I can deal. But their YA section is horrible. I thought I was searching by author, and then I thought it was by series, and then I figured there were series within the by-author shelves. I never figured it out. And on my way out, I discovered the “teen paranormal” section, which wasn’t really near YA at all. And let us not forget the Twilight display. I don’t think comments are needed on that.

My ventures into local, big-name bookstores usually end in failure, but I didn’t do too terribly. We obtained…

1. Peter & the Secret of Rundoon, Dave Barry
The third in the Peter & the Starcatchers series. It’s a pre-Peter Pan story, like how they came to be who they are. It’s kind of fun.

2. Let the Great World Spin, Colum McCann
I forget what it’s about, but it won the National Book Award, and therefore I will love it.

3. The Book Thief, Markus Zusak
It’s a YA book about books. And how have I not yet devoured this?

4. Revolutionary Road/The Easter Parade/Eleven Kinds of Love, Richard Yates
I’ve wanted to read more Yates after Revolutionary Road, and they had this 3-novel deal, so I couldn’t resist. And it’s the Everyman’s Library edition, which I kind of love.

With my current list of to-reads I may not get to these for another couple months, but the book binge has been long overdue. I had to force myself to approach the register before something else found its way onto my pile. Namely the Phoenix Wright Casebook, which I spy in the Manga section every time I go in there, and am almost embarrassed that I want it. But I resisted once again. But only because I was carrying a stack of books that hardly fit in my arm anymore.

Hush, Hush; Becca Fitzpatrick
I’ll read anything having to do with angels. They’re kind of my thing. What I wasn’t expecting is this basically being the same story as our favorite vampire story, except, well, he’s an angel. And if you know anything about me and how I feel about Twilight, this isn’t saying much.

Gone; Lisa McMann
[The third title in the Wake trilogy.] It’s all about Janie going back & forth, again mulling over her options. While this is certainly necessary for a satisfactory conclusion, it’s really all we get. There’s not much of a plot otherwise.

Eat, Pray, Love; Elizabeth Gilbert
I am intrigued by her travels, and I can understand why this book has become so wildly popular. But I’m wary about its conclusion—what is the balance? Is there one? And what makes you think you can live in this world and still be connected to God? You can’t have both, not to these extremes.

Welcome to the Monkey House; Kurt Vonnegut
I spent the majority of my teen years obsessing over Vonnegut, so I’ll always think everything he does is amazing. (Well, with the exception of Mother Night. But we won’t discuss that.) While I don’t enjoy his short stories as much as his novels, they’re still pretty fantastic.

Elsewhere; Gabrielle Zevin
It’s not deep. The writing is kind of flat. The storyline is a bit predictable. But man, I seriously wanted to cry throughout the entire thing. It’s an interesting interpretation of the afterlife, that we go to this mysterious Elsewhere. We age backward, until reaching infancy, where we’re returned to earth as a newborn.

Sacred Scars; Kathleen Duey
[The second title in the Resurrection of Magic series.] What I love most about this series is the atmosphere. It’s a world of secrets, magicians, and a longing for change. This book is bizarre and unresolved, with unexpected twists in both storylines. I can’t imagine how they’re going to resolve, and that’s what makes me continue reading it.

City of Glass; Cassandra Clare
Everything is intense; I have to pay attention to every little word because 1) it’s obviously important, and 2) it’s so vivid and beautiful. I love this world and the people in it.

You Shall Know Our Velocity; Dave Eggers
“I was talking to Hand, one of my two best friends, the one still alive, and we were planning to leave.”
Yes. That’s what you call a smack in the face.

Though to be fair, I had a secret crush on Dave, the band’s bassist, too. But shush.

Fifteen years later, there’s an opportunity for that 12-year-old girl to revive. Bush, my favorite band for at least seven years in a row, has declared a reunion. New album, tour, the works. I’m ready to crack open the piggy bank for a concert ticket, dig out one of many 15-year-old Bush t-shirts shoved in the back of my closet (yes they still fit, and yes I still have them). But then I read the article, and my beloved bassist isn’t included in this reunion. Neither is Nigel, the guitarist, for that fact.

So basically, their reunion includes Gavin and Robin, drummer extraordinaire, and some other people who were not part of the original lineup. Can this be considered a proper reunion? I’m almost prepared to put down my imaginary hammer and leave the piggy bank alone. It’s great and all that they had this idea, and I won’t disagree with it, but it’s like attending a high school reunion for the class you didn’t graduate from. You’re still there, but there’s something not authentic about it. It feels kind of fake.

I almost knew, before I read the article, that Nigel wouldn’t be a part of it. He was the first to leave, after all, before the band officially disbanded. Became a family man. So yeah, I don’t blame him. But what’s up with Dave? He totally disappeared off the face of the earth.

You know I’ll still buy the album, just like I bought Rossdale’s solo album (that I didn’t actually like much). I’m hoping it’s reminiscent of my high school days, those glorious days of wide-pocketed JNCO jeans and being the first of my friends to own a pair of Airwalks. I know they’ve grown up and all, and want to try new things, but I’ll be a very bitter fangirl if I don’t like the album. And you don’t want to disappoint your biggest fan, after all.

(If you happen to be reading this from a place other than my blog, I suggest you stop by to understand what I ramble about.)

And while you’re here, check out my obnoxiously pink header. Random trivia: most of the silhouettes are from vectors I got bored of/never finished. It makes me feel accomplished now to use them. (Let’s play “spot the geeky reference!”)

I’m really rusty with coding, it seems, because it took far longer than it should have. And I couldn’t figure out basic things, like making a space between entries. And forgot to close tags many times. I think it’s fixed, but I trust you to inform of anything that looks off-kilter (this was my first attempt at a wordpress layout, after all).

Another successful day in the world of web design, if I do say so myself.