I am alive. (Obviously.) I am in Emporia. I am about to go to bed. Apparently, the best I can do is declarative statements at the moment. I have a library card, a job (which I haven't attended orientation for, which makes me nervous), and I have other big news that I hope I'll remember to post about later. It deserves its own post, both so I can shit my pants over it and squee incessantly. I am currently reading (or rereading):
Angels & Demons by Dan Brown,
The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne,
A Change in Altitude by Anita Shreve, and
The Stand (expanded edition) by Stephen King. I've already read
Angels & Demons, but I haven't seen the movie yet, so I wanted a refresher on how disappointed I'm going to be. I read 9 pages of
Pride & Prejudice before I gave up a few days ago, further cementing my need to just own the book so I can read it like I read
1984 - pick it up every few months and read a chapter or two. Of course, I haven't touched
1984 since 2006, but it worked for
The Hobbit - it took 6 months to read, but damned if I didn't do it.
Things are looking up. I'm terrified. I'm on the edge of some (more) huge changes. I don't know how I feel about this and how many I'm ready to accept, but I'm working toward something different. I don't know if it's better, but it's different.
I miss everyone like crazy.
My belongings are everywhere because I never pick anything up. I have two binders, a blanket, two canvas bags, a bathrobe, various purse innards, a newspaper, a notepad, a sweater, and mail on the floor near my feet right now. Oh, and four library books, and that doesn't even count the books I seem to have misplaced. (I was attempting to read
Mrs. Dalloway again. I got as far as I did last time. I just can't seem to follow it. It's somewhere around here.)
Things I seem to be good at accumulating, now that all my stuff is in one place:
- Pens with varying levels of ink.
- Odd batteries.
- Shoes.
- Books.
- Purses.
I am odd. I am tired. Good night.
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