Why I Hate Chick Lit

I'm tired of modern chick lit.

As someone who spends 1.5+ hours a day on trains, I get a lot of reading done. I'll read pretty much anything - fantasy, sci fi, historical fiction, biographies, social science books, you name it. I love when people give me book recommendations and very frequently I select my books by seeing what my friends are reading on Goodreads. Even if I know nothing about them.

Sometimes, yes, I end up being blindsided by chick lit.

Here's the thing about it. Chick lit can be highly entertaining, and those are frequently the books that I can't put down, finishing them in 1 or 2 days because I just NEEDED to let the drama unfold. The problem, though, is that I come away from these books feeling dumber. Because I didn't learn anything, didn't feel inspired by the quality of the writing or the creativity of the ideas, and as realistic as the heroines are supposed to seem, I never get the sense that those women are real people.

Frankly, I'm tired of reading this bullshit. I'm not even super well-versed in chick lit because I make a point of trying to avoid it, but I've accidentally or not-so-accidentally read enough over the years that I can tell chick lit from just the first few pages. Yet, like a deer in headlights, I just can't seem to extricate myself from the oncoming horror.

I'd like to read more books about women who aren't awful. Who are smart, nuanced, independent, and yes, flawed. And I don't mean flawed as in "oh teehee I spilled some coffee on my blouse on the way to work so I just artfully tied a scarf around my neck and totally rocked it because it ended up looking faaaaabulous." I mean actually flawed.

After years of reading books by the likes of Lauren Weisberger (who, in my opinion, went majorly downhill after Prada) and Emily Giffin (who, to be fair, at least gave me the inspiration for the best blog post title I've ever come up with in 11 years of blogging), I'm tired of the formulaic heroine who is supposed to be the opposite of your stereotypical damsel-in-distress but ends up being just another cliche.

Giving a woman a fancy Wall Street job does not make her smart.

Having her put on 10 pounds so she is now a size 4 instead of a size 2 does not mean she has real problems.

Surrounding your main character with some vacuous friends - the goody two shoes, the effortlessly promiscuous one, and the sensible one who is actually the main character's closest friend but the other 2 don't really know about it - doesn't mean she has deep, meaningful personal relationships. It means she's a ripoff of Sex and the City.

I've read a lot of books about women in New York, yet I've never seen myself or my friends reflected in any of them. Not because we're all unique snowflakes, but because we're REAL PEOPLE. We're ambitious women who, despite being smart and motivated, may never see our dreams come to fruition because this is real life and you cannot just MacGyver a wildly successful cupcake bakery out of some flour, some fondant and whatever money you have left over from last week's paycheck. We lose our jobs (raises hand, what up 2012) and we don't have a sassy gay friend to barge into our apartments, produce an amazing outfit out of the Forever21 crap we have in our closets and send us on our way to a job interview he magically set up for us. And when I say we lose our jobs, I don't mean we quit them in a flurried, climactic moment of both high stress and clarity about how much we really want that cupcake bakery.

In real life, not everyone wants a cupcake bakery. Seriously. The presence of the bakery dream in chick lit is as ubiquitous as the bitchy coworker who's always trying to take the main girl down a peg.

And it should probably go without saying that in real life, the perfect man does not materialize just at the very moment that we've gotten our hearts broken by some shithead. We get our hearts broken and we drown our sorrows in vodka and then maybe we spend time with more shitheads and often also the original shithead.

I wish we could go back to the time when chick lit was more Jane Austen and less..this crap. Or maybe I should just do a better job of avoiding it. Hmph.

Everyone's a Critic

Like many of you out there, I'm on Goodreads. I love tracking the books I've read and having a place to keep a list of the books I want to read.

A lot of my Goodreads peeps write long, thoughtful reviews of the books they read. I love reading their intelligent analyses because many times my friends' reviews will help me decide what books to read in the future.

I am not someone who writes thoughtful reviews on Goodreads.

Most of the time I simply rate the books I've read by giving them somewhere between 1 and 5 stars and then continuing about my merry way.

Occasionally, however, I will write some sort of pithy commentary. But I assure you, very few people are using my unintelligent reviews to influence their future literary choices. Here are some examples of reviews I've written.

Requiem, by Lauren Oliver: Lauren Oliver, why must you murder all your books with TERRIBLE ENDINGS?!? Jesus.

Devotion: A Memoir, by Dani Shapiro: An excellent combination of being both boring and pointless. Plus, her transliterations from Hebrew to English are terrible.

The Casual Vacancy, by J.K. Rowling: Terrible. I can't even. 

The Happiness Project, by Gretchen Rubin: Why is everyone obsessed with this book? I don't get it. Womp.

Everything Is Illuminated, by Jonathan Safran Foer: Fool me once, Jonathan Safran Foer, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I don't know why I thought I would like this seeing as I hated Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, but this just goes to show that I'm a moron and didn't learn my lesson the first time around. WOMP WOMP TO ME. 

The Orchardist, by Amanda Coplin: This is a pathetic book about some pathetic people. 

Until I Find You, by John Irving: THIS BOOK IS SO LONG WHY IS IT SO LONG 

Committed, by Elizabeth Gilbert: I didn't hate her in this one as much as I did in Eat, Pray, Love. So I guess that's a win. 

And finally, the piece of writing that I may very well be most proud of in my entire life, my review of Fire, by Kristin Cashore: This book, to quote a guy who lived on my floor in college, "sucks like a big bag of assholes."

It is painfully boring. It takes a huge feat of craptitude for me to abandon a book, but 60% of the way through and I can officially read no more. There were MAYBE 10 pages of the whole thing thus far that actually had any integration with Graceling (which I really liked), and while I really wanted to see more of that, I just can't wait around forever.

Finally, I don't understand why Cashore deems it necessary to talk about periods so much. If I wanted to read so much about periods I would go read "Our Bodies, Ourselves." 

Are you on Goodreads? Let's be friends! Maybe you write reviews that are a little more well thought-out than mine.

On My Bookshelf (but not literally)

I talk about books a lot on this blog. Actually, that might not be true. Occasionally I talk about books. Whatever.

According to Goodreads, I've read 65 books so far this year. This does not count the 3 Hunger Games books since I first read them last year and only reread them this year, nor does it count one of Peter Dewolf's books, since it isn't on Goodreads at all.

Anyway, for anyone who cares, here is a list of the 69 books I've read so far this year, plus the 2 that I'm reading right now but have read enough of to categorize them into these very technical groupings below.

Want specific recommendations from this list? Have recommendations for me based on this list? Hit me up!

Books I particularly liked are in blue, books I particularly did NOT like are in red.

YOUNG ADULT FICTION

Lord of the Flies - William Golding
The Giver - Lois Lowry

Gathering Blue - Lois Lowry

The Messenger - Lois Lowry

Daughter of Smoke and Bone - Laini Taylor

Divergent - Veronica Roth

Insurgent - Veronica Roth

Matched - Ally Condie

Crossed - Ally Condie

Delirium - Lauren Oliver

Pandemonium - Lauren Oliver

Before I Fall - Lauren Oliver

Pretties - Scott Westerfeld

Uglies - Scott Westerfeld
Specials - Scott Westerfeld

Will Grayson, Will Grayson - John Green

Graceling - Kristin Cashore

Fire - Kristin Cashore (my review of this book is one of my favorite things I've ever written. Read it here)

Enclave - Ann Aguirre

Hunger Games - Suzanne Collins

Catching Fire - Suzanne Collins

Mockingjay - Suzanne Collins

BOOKS I READ BECAUSE THEY'RE POPULAR

The Girl Who Played With Fire - Stieg Larsson

The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest - Stieg Larsson
Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand

Anthem - Ayn Rand

Fifty Shades of Grey - E.L. James

Fifty Shades Darker - E.L. James

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - Mitch Albom

Galapagos - Kurt Vonnegut

The Alchemist - Paulo Coelho

Water for Elephants - Sarah Gruen

FUNNY SHIT
Lies Chelsea Handler Told Me - Chelsea Handler

Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang - Chelsea Handler

Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? - Mindy Kaling

Assholes Finish First - Tucker Max

JEW BOOKS

Devotion - Dani Shapiro

Foreskin's Lament - Shalom Auslander

STRATEJOY RECOMMENDED BOOKS

My Year with Eleanor - Noelle Hancock

MWF Seeking BFF - Rachel Bertsche

Health At Every Size - Linda Bacon

NONFICTION SORT OF HAVING TO DO WITH HUMAN BEHAVIOR OR SOCIAL SCIENCE

The Defining Decade - Meg Jay

What Color Is Your Parachute? - Richard Nelson Bolles

The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People - Stephen Covey

Good to Great - Jim Collins

The Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth - Alexandra Robbins
Sway - Ori Brafman
Black Swan - Nassin Nicholas Taleb

OTHER NONFICTION

The Kid - Dan Savage

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks - Rebecca Skloot

Facebook Fairytales - Emily Liebert

The Girl Who Was On Fire - Leah Wilson (and others)

Gunn's Golden Rules - Tim Gunn

The Guinea Pig Diaries - A.J. Jacobs

I Want My MTV - Craig Marks

SHIT THAT SUCKED

Everything is Illuminated - Jonathan Safran Foer

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close - Jonathan Safran Foer

Bicoastal Babe - Cynthia Langston

OTHER FICTION

#$@%ing Read Me - Peter Dewolf

Romantical Snippets Written By a Dude? - Peter Dewolf

Dreams of Joy - Lisa See

The Glass Castle - Jeannette Walls

The Paris Wife - Paula Mclain

Beauty Queens - Libba Bray

1Q84 - Haruki Murakami

The Namesake - Jhumpa Lahiri

The Book Thief - Markus Zusak

MEMOIRS

Jeneration X - Jen Lancaster

Save Karyn - Karyn Bosnak

The Tender Bar - J.R. Moehringer

Hope Dies Last - Eleni Zoe

Arielle Shrugged

Alternative title for this post: Talking About Stuff I'm Clearly Not Smart Enough to Understand Nor Knowledgeable Enough About to Write a Blog Post On It But That Hasn't Stopped Me Before So If I Sound Like a Moron...Sorry. Just Pat Me on the Head and Carry On Your Merry Way.

If you read this blog post or are my friend on Goodreads, you know that I've been reading some Ayn Rand lately. I wanted to read some of her work not because I have a thirst for conservative literature, but because she's like, famous and stuff? And I feel like as a general rule it's good to read books by well-known authors.

It took me 13 days to power through the the 1200-page tome that is Atlas Shrugged, which I was pretty happy about because I was one day shy of the 14-day library loan deadline and you guys already know about how sometimes trying to read all my library books before they're due is a delicate balancing act where my overzealousness occasionally comes crashing down around my head.

I knew that Rand was something of a Republican icon, but I didn't actually know what specific values her books espouse and I had no idea what any of her books were even about, plot-wise. But after reading Atlas Shrugged, I have some questions about the alignment of her ideology with the ideologies of various and sundry American political parties (well no, really just the main two, but I just enjoy saying "various and sundry"). So, here goes.

For anyone who hasn't read it, here is a really REALLY general summary of what goes on in this book. It centers around the railroad industry. There are railroad company people and copper company people and steel company people. Some of these people are better at their jobs than others. Then there's lots of government regulation that tries to give equal opportunities to everyone in the industry even though some companies are clearly superior to others. It royally fucks everyone over and shit kind of implodes.

So here's the thing. I see why conservatives rally around this book, because conservatives typically hate regulation even though SIDEBAR while I'm liberal mostly for social reasons I still think some good ol' fashioned regulating could have prevented some of our own catastrophes (what up ENRON, LEHMAN BROTHERS, ETCETERAAAAA) but that is not what this post is about anyway.

Right. So Republicans hate regulation and there's lots of regulating in this book and that's why they love it. Check. Moving on.

One of the main points that I got out of this book is that Rand really wants people to earn their keep. Even more than she hates regulation, she hates freeloaders. You don't get something for nothing. If you do well, you get rewarded. If you mess everything up, you don't deserve shit.

This commentary might be coming a few years too late, but throughout this entire book I could think of nothing but, "I wonder what Rand would say about huge Wall Street bonuses. Especially when the economy is in the crapper. DOUBLE ESPECIALLY for the companies that paid out big bonuses even when they were receiving bailout funds." Talk about people messing shit up and not deserving something. I can't imagine she'd be down with that.

Rand also seems to care a lot about blue collar workers - sure, most of the "good guys" in Atlas Shrugged are management types, but it's evident that she respects manual labor and those who work hard at it. I think if this book were written about a white collar industry (like, hey, the financial services sector), her tone would be completely different. Or maybe the book just wouldn't even exist like that. Again, the thing that surprises me here is what seems to me like a disconnect between Rand's beliefs and Republican values which, in this day and age, really seem to be all about pushing the wealth upward (you know, that whole 1% biz-nass). And by "upward" clearly I mean, away from the working class.

The point is, to make another broad generalization (sorry), blue collar + Republicans don't seem to mix, yet Rand + blue collar kind of do. Though I am admittedly a bit confused about her stance on unions. Fortunately, a lot of the internet seems to be in the same camp.

On another kind of side note, there is some really interesting literature out there about why so many working-class people vote Republican despite the fact that it seems to go against their best interests. I didn't collect links while I was researching this but rest assured, if you google it, it's out there.

Okay. So a lot of Republicans are all, "Yay Atlas Shrugged is an awesome book and is a great guide to how capitalism is supposed to work (I've read some stuff about how Paul Ryan is a lover of Ayn Rand, though this post wasn't brought on by any current event aside from the fact that I just happened to read this book recently). My problem here is that this book is sort of realistic but also completely NOT realistic. Like, is there a word that means "extended hyperbole"? Because if so, that's it. Some of the ish that happens here is totally ridiculous and I have a hard time thinking people are taking it 100% seriously.

So after all of this, I'm sitting here kind of like..."What am I not getting?" I couldn't really find anything that talks about these points of disconnect between Rand and the Republican party and while I would love to think that I'm the first person to have this breakthrough thought of "Hey guys Ayn Rand is pretty conservative but maybe not AS conservative as you think she is," the more realistic thing is that there is something here that I'm totally misinterpreting or straight up not understanding because even though I'm sort of intelligent sometimes, other times I'm the kind of person who frantically looks for her cell phone while she's holding it. It seems to me that Rand, if she saw what the Republican party was doing today, might be appalled by a lot of it. But maybe I'm wrong.

End blog post of confusion. Shrug.

50 Shades of Suckitude

After suffering through 50 Shades of Grey, I needed to get my thoughts about this horrible book down on paper (or blog, whatevs).

I've recruited a few others to also post reviews of this book, because the world (and by "world" I clearly mean "the 3 people who read my blog HEY Y'ALL, LOVE YOU") needs to hear from a few women who have some semblance of a brain and who realize that 50 Shades is a seriously pathetic excuse for literature.

Here is a handy list of why this book is probably the worst thing I've ever read. Ahem:

1) The story takes place in 2011. Our "heroine," Ana, is a 21 year old college student. She does not have a computer. She does not have an email address. I mean...okay. If I ever encountered someone in real life without an email address I would BANISH THEM FROM LIFE. Except I don't have to worry because only in this weird world where gingers are sexy and stalking people is endearing would this actually happen.

1b) Yes, Christian Grey, who, we are reminded constantly, is so insanely attractive that women pretty much melt into puddles all Wicked Witch of the West-style when they see him, is a ginger. HAHAHA OKAY.

2) No one in this book sounds like a real person. People do not seriously say "shall," E.L. James. I don't care if you're a middle aged British woman. Get with the programme (see what I did there?).

3) There is a character named Jose, and he very frequently says, "Dios mio!" If any of you reading this are Hispanic, on a scale of 1 to 10, how offended are you? If I had to guess how many Hispanic people E.L. James has actually met, I'm going to go with...zero.

4) Look, I really don't want to go that much into the sexy sex parts. Mostly because I'm not particularly well-versed in erotic fiction, and I'm definitely not at all well-versed in having totally unrealistic sex. But I will say this: if you read this book because you've heard about how it's revitalized marriages and you want to turn your love life up a notch, DO NOT READ PAST THE SEX PARTS. The prose is honestly so awful that it will take any amount of turned on that you might be and douse it with a bucket of ice water. To the soundtrack of 1,000 crying babies. With the smell of garbage on a hot summer day invading your nostrils. As in, it's a fucking buzz kill.

5) On that note, why is this book so popular with mothers? There are no moms here. Unless you count Christian's mom randomly coming by his house and not being bothered by his new lady friend with sex hair. Which I don't.

6) I think Ana is some kind of robot. She apparently hates eating. Every time Christian asks her if she's eaten (which, FYI, is totally weird), she gets all sheepish and "Whoopsiesssss totally guilty of not having eaten today!" as if she's a 5 year old who just got caught stealing cookies from the kitchen counter. WHY DOESN'T SHE EAT? I mean sure, every so often I forget to eat or don't have time to, but mostly, NO, THIS IS RIDICULOUS EVERYONE FUCKING EATS.

7) Related to #6, why on earth does this book talk about Darfur so much? I mean, why does it talk about Darfur AT ALL? I know that Christian had some weird upbringing where he was hungry all the time and that's why he's so controlling about Ana's food intake and also why he helps out Darfur (?????), but I kind of feel like this is E.L. James's way of saying, "Hey guys I’m going to talk about a serious issue now and I'm totally not stupid because I’m socially conscious and stuff, what?”  Also, I get that he wants to feed people, but doesn't he want to do something about the genocide? PRIORITIES, CHRISTIAN. Also, maybe read a newspaper, E.L.

8) Ana bites her lip a lot. I just tried to bite my lip and look sexy doing it. I failed. In fact, I kind of look like a scared chipmunk. Does anyone look sexy doing this? (Disclaimer: I don't look sexy doing anything, so...fine).

9)We hear a lot about Ana's subconscious, and also a lot about her inner goddess. WHAT IN THE WHAT. First of all, if you anthropomorphize your subconscious, I think that negates the whole "sub" part of it and DOING IT WRONG, E.L. Also, I don't know about you guys, but my subconscious maybe gives me weird dreams sometimes, but it definitely does not yell at me or look at me or anything that one of my besties would do. Because it's not a person. And the inner goddess? Who is this? Her inner slutty sex kitten? Why are these 2 different entities? What is even going on here? IS THIS REAL LIFE?

10) Typos. I wear "sandals," but apparently in this book, you wear "sandles." Does this book have editors??? Were they so blinded with pathetic mommy porn passion that they couldn't even think straight?

Sigh. And eye rolling.

Lacey's review is here, Debbie's is here, and Jess's is here.

For more hilarious reviews of 50 Shades, check out the Snark Squad, and this amazing article by Julieanne Smolinski.

Dating and stuff

OKAY ACK a few people called me out for mentioning that I went on a date but not actually talking about it. SORRYYYYY.

The reason I didn't say anything about the date I went on is because it was completely unremarkable. Actually the guy was cute and nice and I cannot think of a single thing wrong with him aside from the fact that I didn't really feel any chemistry. Do people feel chemistry on first dates when you meet on the internet? I feel like I could never feel a spark with someone that I met under such contrived circumstances. But then...I'm totally weird (read: fucked up) when it comes to men and dating. Anyway I never texted the guy after our date and he didn't text me either and...that's that.

On a related note though, due to a whole host of reasons, I'm on JDate (again, after a several year hiatus). I can't say I'm thrilled about it but hopefully this time goes better than the last time. Which is to say, I hope no older men IM me, turn on their webcams, and then perform calisthenics in front of the camera with no pants on.

THAT HAPPENED TO ME. It was horrifying.

Semi-related to men and dating, I am desperately trying to make my way through Fifty Shades of Grey right now. Except IT SUCKS. I was under the impression that this book would be so bad that it was good, except it's so bad that it's terrible and I actually want to hunt down the author and punch her in the nose. The writing is so bad it offends me and the sex parts are...not that sexy? This is a terrible horrible no good very bad book. Whatever. Maybe if/when I finish I'll write more about it because I have some strong feelings about this garbage.

And finally, my blog is all pretty now! Click through and check it out, yo. Ashley at Little Leaf was fantastic to work with and I'm proud to show off my fancy new blog (only I'm too lazy to put anything in the top navigation buttons so umm those are blank for now but whatever I WILL GET TO IT ONE DAY).

The end.

Drowning

Guys, I have a serious problem.

I'm drowning.

Not emotionally, in a depressed "I can't keep up with my feelings of sadness" kind of way. And not in an actual drowning in water kind of way.

I'M DROWNING IN MY BOOKS.

You see, I read books in 2 formats: actual physical books, and Kindle books. Actual books that I get from the library are wonderful because once I have them, I can keep renewing them forever and ever and there's no rush to read them. Kindle books, however, are not so simple. There are a few types of Kindle books that I read:

- Kindle books that I own. There are very few of these since I don't like to pay for books, which is unfortunate because, like physical books, these are easy to deal with. Yesterday I bought Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close from Amazon because it was on sale for 25 cents. I probably won't read it for awhile.

- Kindle books that I get from the Amazon Lending Library. As an Amazon Prime member, I get to borrow 1 book a month. I can keep them for as long as I want, but even if I finish one in 2 days, I still can't borrow another one until the 1st of the next month. I don't like to get behind on these books because I want to fully utilize this part of my Prime membership, and it's nice to be able to pick out a new book and have access to it immediately (unlike library books, which I typically have to wait for). Sadly for me, my current lending library book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, is from February and I don't anticipate finishing it anytime soon. So I probably won't be getting a free March book. Wah.

- Kindle books from the Brooklyn Public Library. Library e-books are tricky. When I get an email that one of my books is ready for download, I have 3 days to download it. Once it's on my Kindle, I have exactly 2 weeks to read it. No renewal option.

Normally this is all fine and well because I read books at lightning speed (according to Goodreads I've finished 18 books so far in 2012 and am in the middle of 5 more). So as the books I've put on hold start coming in, either in hard or soft copy, I adjust accordingly. If I'm reading an actual physical book and a library e-book comes through, I'll temporarily abandon the first book because I know I have unlimited time to read it while I only get 14 days with an e-book. It's always worked out.

However, I feel like I'm on the brink of losing control of my reading. For the first time since I got my Kindle in November, I'm afraid I won't have time to finish something or other.

You see, I got an email today that 1Q84 is ready for download. I just started reading Fire, another library e-book, but I'm confident I can finish it before 3 days from now, the point at which I have to download 1Q84 or I lose my spot in line. The problem is that 1Q84 is over 900 pages long, so even at my current pace it'll take me a bit to get through it.

AND

Because I can go to the library's website to check the status of the e-books I have on hold, I can see that I'm probably going to get The Girl Who Played With Fire pretty soon also. This book is over 700 pages.

I ONLY HAVE 2 PRECIOUS WEEKS WITH EACH OF THESE BOOKS BEFORE THEY DISAPPEAR FROM MY KINDLE.

I JUST DON'T THINK I CAN KEEP UP WITH THIS.

What I need to do is to STOP PUTTING BOOKS ON HOLD. I've turned into a monster.

Mindy Kaling can read my mind

You know how sometimes you encounter a line from a song or book or whathaveyou and you just think to yourself, "OMG THIS IS SOOO MY LIFE IT'S LIKE THIS SONG WAS WRITTEN FOR ME OMG OMG FOREVER."??? Well, that happened to me.

If this was 2002, I would put the line as my AIM away message, or if it was REALLY deep, I might even give it more semi-permanent recognition in my actual AIM profile.

But it's not 2002, so I'm putting it in my blog instead. Deal with it.

Back story - just yesterday I returned from a lovely 5 day trip to Florida, where I helped my grandma run errands, sort through paperwork, and talk about how upsetting it is that none of her grandchildren or great-nieces/nephews are getting married anytime soon. I also spent an obscene amount of time by the pool, soaking up the 80 degree weather and reading lots of books.

One of the books I read was Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) by Mindy Kaling. I wanted to read this book not because I'm a fan of The Office (I've seen all of maybe 3 episodes), but because I'm a fan of intelligent, confident women who aren't afraid to assert their intelligence while also kind of making fun of themselves (see also: Bossypants, by Tina Fey).

In the beginning of the book, Mindy (we're on the first name basis, obvs) lists a few alternate titles she considered for the book. Among them:

When Your Boyfriend Fits Into Your Jeans and Other Atrocities

Harry Potter Secret Book #8

So You've Finished Chelsea Handler's Book, Now What?

And my personal favorite, the one that speaks to me like some awesomely emo song lyrics did when I was in college...

There Has Ceased To Be A Difference Between My Awake Clothes and My Asleep Clothes

STOP BEING INSIDE MY HEAD, MINDY.

Also, maybe I shouldn't be such a slob. But when the siren song of luxurious fleecey sweatpants beckons, I am powerless. Oh well.

Goodbye, Harry Potter

It all started nearly 10 years ago. It was the fall of 2001, my very first semester of college. Some hallmates and I were sitting in my dorm’s common room, chatting about whatever and probably avoiding our respective papers and problem sets, when someone started talking about Harry Potter. I was only vaguely familiar with Harry Potter at that point, and so, as I am wont to do in situations where I’m clueless about the subject matter at hand, I voiced my indifference loudly.

"I’ve never read any Harry Potter books. I mean, if someone were to like, HAND me a book and go, ‘Read it,’ I would probably read it, but I don’t care enough to go out of my way for it.”

My friend Tim got up from his seat on the couch and disappeared into his room. He reemerged a minute later, strode across the room, and handed me a book.

“Read it.”

I looked at it. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. I was less than enthused, but I’m a woman of my word. When everyone adjourned for the night, I opened the book to page 1.

The next afternoon, I knocked on Tim’s door.

“TIM!”

He opened it. I promptly shoved the book back at him.

“Give me the next one.”

He smiled.

And that was how it all began.

I plowed through the first 4 books with a fervor I can’t say I’ve given to many other things in life. I was completely, totally, unabashedly hooked.

To say I’m maniacally obsessed with Harry Potter is an overstatement. I’ve never seen a midnight movie showing. I’ve never read fan fiction or discussed the books on message boards. I faired pretty poorly on this Sporcle quiz that asks you to name the top 200 most mentioned characters in the Harry Potter series. I’ve never dressed up as any of the characters for any reason, save one drunken night when my friend put on my snuggie and thought she was Albus Dumbledore, so I put on my Hannah Montana wig and pretended to be Fleur Delacour.

I would be lying, though, if I said the Harry Potter series has had no impact on my life at all. I’ve accumulated more than enough great memories over the years.

When the first movie came out in November of 2001, I was there on opening night, my friend Brian and his older sister wearing matching glasses and lightning bolt stickers.

When the fifth book came out in the summer of 2003, my friend Jenny and I patiently waited for our turn to receive a book at Barnes and Noble in the middle of the night.

There was Harry Potter Festathon, of course.

Earlier this year, when my friends and I got rush tickets to see Daniel Radcliffe sing and dance (excellently and adorably, might I add) in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, we never referred to the show by its real name. Only by “Harry Potter Musical.” Because Daniel Radcliffe was Harry Potter before he was J Pierrepont Finch. But even further than that, the other cast members have ceased to be actors in my mind. No matter what else they do, Alan Rickman will always be Snape and Ralph Fiennes, as indistinguishable as his real face is from that of the character he plays, will always be Voldemort.

When the seventh book came out, I hadn’t yet gotten around to rereading the sixth, and I was committed to doing so before diving into 7. After a weekend in Boston, I sat down on the Greyhound bus back to New York and opened up Half Blood Prince. The girl next to me promptly opened up Deathly Hallows. We spent the entire 4 hour bus ride with our heads buried in the books, save the one or two times when I found it impossible to contain my curiosity.

“OH MY GOD YOU’VE READ SO MUCH HOW IS IT!?!?!”

“IT’S SO GOOD! But so…surprising!!! You’re going to love it.”

And then we would keep reading.

When I finally got around to reading HP7, I was torn. On the one hand, I was sneaking out of work for extended Starbucks runs or lunches, settling myself into a table and trying to read as much as possible, hoping my boss wouldn’t walk in and catch me. But on the other hand, I would reluctantly pull myself away from the book at the end of a chapter, not wanting the end to actually arrive.

That’s sort of how I feel now. I don’t want the end to arrive.

I haven’t seen the last movie yet, not because I’ve been avoiding it but because I’ve been busy. But in a way I want to push it off as long as possible. If I haven’t seen the last movie, it isn’t over. Not really.

This movie represents the last Harry Potter related thing I can truly look forward to. Sure, I can reread the books (and I will), and sure, I can rewatch the movies (and I will – can we say Harry Potter Festathon REDUX??), but it won’t be the same.

Since the end will likely come in the next few days, the last time any Harry Potter book or movie will ever be new to me, I feel the need to express my gratitude. To Jo Rowling, to Dan and Emma and Rupert, to the rest of the cast, and to everyone else who will never read this but who had a part in making this franchise the insanely addicting thing it is today.

From those of us who have debated which house the Sorting Hat would put us in (Ravenclaw).

From those of us who know that the original crush-worthy character was not Harry or Ron or Neville (RAWR), but Oliver Wood.

From those of us who have been a fan of Robert Pattinson long before he put on some sparkles and became known as “RPattz.”

Thank you. We’ve lost countless hours immersed in your books and movies, and we don’t regret a single second of it.

Margaritas and Kendra, 2 of my favorite things

This email to my peeps yesterday pretty much sums up my life perfectly right now:

Hello wonderful friends!

As all of you know, my summer of leisure, AKA daytime drinking, buying new dresses and hunting down every free food deal in Manhattan, is every so often interspersed with this thing called "job hunting."

I am proud to announce what a few of you already know, which is that I will soon reach a major milestone in my job search. No, not a job offer. Not even the interview of a lifetime. Tomorrow, I expect to reach 100 job applications.

While most people might find this milestone to represent a failure of epic proportions, I think it represents a time to ask a number of questions. Why doesn't anyone want to hire me? What exactly did I get myself into my desired salary's worth of student loan debt for? How many different versions of the same resume can one person possibly create? And most importantly - how many happy hour margaritas can I drink in 3 hours?

Which is why tomorrow I will be downing margaritas like it's my job (because there certainly isn't anything else that's my job right now) in CANCUN BABYYYYYY. That's Cancun, on 8th Ave. between 55th and 56th. Kind of like the real Cancun, only...not.

Happy hour is from 4 to 7. If you would like to join me, please do. And if you would like to bring anyone, please do. Because even if you don't have a reason to celebrate, however fake that reason is, everyone likes margaritas. At least everyone important does.

First 10 people to show up get a free stack of copies of my resume.

With love and tequila,
AJ

Happy hour was fab. I am margarita-ed out. And OMG I forgot to mention how Lacey sent me an email from Berlin or Amsterdam or wherever she was at the time on her whole "honeymoon" thing being like, "Kendra Wilkinson is going to be at Borders signing books." And of course I wrote her back saying "YOU ARE MY FAVORITE" because Lacey knows how much I love Kendra. And Hank Baskett. And Baby Hank Baskett. And then I went with Crapface, a fellow lover of all things Wilkinson/Baskett, and people weren't allowed to take pictures with her but it was all good because I got to see her and Hank (sadly, no mini Hank) and if you think I paid $25 for that book just so I could get her to sign it...you're wrong. I'm not that crazy.

Then over dinner I told Crapface the story of how I ended up being written about (not by name) in one of Jen Lancaster's books all because Lacey was making fun of me because I had never seen Footloose. Maybe one day I'll repost that story from ye olde blog.

How did this post get so rambly? Oy.

It's the hard knock life

Okay, before I start this post, writing the title made me think of one of my favorite ever moments from ye olde financial services job. Picture M, a cute blonde woman in her early 30's who is just such an adorable mommy type that you just KNOW she has young children even if you didn't ACTUALLY know. And then picture C, a 25 year old smooth Asian guy who will IM you on the company IM system and spell things like "d00d."

M, singing: It's a hard a knock life, for us. It's a hard knock life! For us!
C: M! I didn't know you listened to Jay-Z!

I'll just leave it at that. OH, THE HILARITY. Anyway.

I spent the last few days at a spa with my mom. It was awesome and I'm going to tell you all about it and make you jealous! Here's what the trip entailed:

- Massages. Multiple. I LOVE THEM. In fact, my Groupon massages are accumulating faster than I can use them.
- Fun fitness classes like pilates, zumba, aqua kickboxing, and Broadway dance. This last one was super fun because the instructor had auditioned for a bunch of Broadway shows and she taught us the audition piece to Chicago (All That Jazz). So we got to strut around all sexy and Bob Fosse-esque. In my super sexy yoga pants and t-shirt. Nice.
- DOGS DOGS DOGS. The owner has a bunch of dogs that roam around, and I was obsessed with all of them. There was a golden retriever, a basset hound, and some kind of spaniel. The basset hound even jumped up to sit next to me on the couch while I was reading, which brings me to my next point...
- A fireplace in a super cozy living room! I spent time there listening to the fire crackling, writing in my journal and reading my LEISURE BOOK (gasp! joy!), Creating A World Without Poverty, which sounds like it should be for school but it is so not. The author won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2006 for pretty much inventing microfinance, which is something I hope to get involved with after graduation. I've been meaning to write a blog post on why I think microfinance is the coolest thing ever for a few months now, but...well, I haven't gotten around to it yet. Shocking, I know.
- Food! Healthy food! Good healthy food, though. And lots of tea.
- And more. It was 2 days of awesomeness and relaxation.

And now I'm back in the Jerz, and THANK THE LORD Christmas is almost come and gone. I hate being bombarded by Christmas music and I cannot wait for everyone to get on with life.

Also, I need some New Year's Eve plans. Hook me up.

And I would walk 500 miles...

...for a Harry Potter book. No joke.

Tomorrow, my friends, is yet another wonderful day off here in Arielle-land. As such, my mother has decided that I should put my free time to good use by waiting in line to get us Shakespeare in the Park tickets. In case you are unfamiliar with this event, it is one of New York's (and other cities') fabulous free things. They only give out tickets on the day of the performance, starting at 1 PM. And since New Yorkers flock to free things like mosquitos flock to my sweet, sweet blood every fucking summer (grumble), you can't just show up at 1 and expect to score some tickets. You have to wait in line like a good American. I plan on showing up at 9. That is, count it, 4 hours of waiting. FOUR HOURS OF WAITING.

I decided that an excellent way to pass the time is to reread the sixth Harry Potter book. I wanted to read it again before the movie comes out (YAYYYYY CUE INTENSE NERDGASM), and few books can keep my rapt attention for hours at a time quite like Harry Potter books can. I know this because the last time I reread HP6 was right when the HP7 came out, and I wanted a refresher on the back story before reading the last book. I was on the Greyhound from Boston to New York, and I didn't stop reading for the entire trip. The girl next to me was doing the same thing with the 7th book, and we bonded like 2 nerds sharing a pocket protector.

So today I decided to walk the 36 blocks to work so that I could stop at the library on the way and pick it up. They didn't have it. Losers.

I used my lunch break to hit up 2 more branches of the New York Public Library. One of them didn't even exist, and the other didn't have a single Harry Potter book. Oy.

On my walk home from work, I stopped by THREE more libraries, going out of my way to make sure I found the damn book. I did not.

I got home from work, took care of some businaaaass, and went to check one more library. In a shocking turn of events, they didn't have it.

Look, New York City, for such an awesome place you sure have a shitacular library system. I thought this when I used to live here, but since I only visited one branch at the time, I thought I just happened to work near the crappiest library ever. But no, all your branch libraries are garbage. Seriously, people. Have you ever walked into a NYPL that was not THE NYPL? You don't even feel like you're in a library because they're so horrifically small. I mean, you walk in, there's like 20 shelves of books, and that's it. The fiction section has maybe 200 books in it. WHAT'S THE POINT?!?! I would rather have to travel far and wide to the ONE library in Manhattan where I can find all the books I need than have to travel to eleventy billion libraries close to my apartment, none of which have anything in them worth their weight in smelly old library book paper (Fact: one of my good friends refuses to read library books because they smell bad). I really hate talking bad about New York but...come on. Your libraries = le suck.

In the end, I went to The Strand and bought the damn book for 6 dollars.

The worst part about this nonsense is that I ALREADY OWN THIS BOOK. Though I have no idea where it is. I know that I once lent Elyse either HP5 or HP6 and never got it back, but I don't remember which one it was and I'm sure after reading this post Elyse will email me and tell me she has neither of them. Don't think I forgot, Elyse! Like elephants, Jewish women never forget. Seriously. You should all hear my grandma talk. She remembers EVERYTHING. Anyhoo, I love Elyse even if she steals my shit. Haha!

Updates forthcoming on the show (assuming we get tickets), including Anne Hathaway's performance. She got kickass reviews and we like to support her since she's from my hometown (Jersey represent!).

Also, Shakespeare always reminds me of 8th grade when I always got pulled out of class to partake in the "gifted and talented" program. The program for 8th grade was Shakespeare, and us smartypants kids performed a scene from The Merchant of Venice. I was Portia and I had to memorize her long "The quality of mercy is not strained" speech. Don't ask me what that soliloquy, or the play as a whole, is about. I have no idea. All I know is, I'm a very bad actress.