Back on the air...again.

After close to a month of doing reading for work (bah!) I'm now able to spend my off hours reading for myself again--which means lots of self-absorbed chick-lit or anachronistic historical fiction about people who rubbed shoulders with randy kings.

I think it might be time to branch out a little.

Recently I watched the movie Julie and Julia. I have a very low threshold for what makes a movie something I will enjoy (does shit get blown up? do people fall in love? are there sumptuous costumes? is Christian Bale donning a batsuit?) and so, unsurprisingly, I enjoyed J&J very much. So much so that I went to work the next day and placed myself on hold for the book. And it came in, and now I'm almost at the end of the book, and I've come to a few rather interesting realizations:

1. Talented blog writers can take their most mundane, quotidian lives and make them into something that I WANT to read.

2. If I had a nickel's worth of sense (which I don't, as all my nickels are being squirreled away to finance my increasingly expensive honeymoon) I'd actually try to knuckle down and try to update my damned blog on a daily basis and maybe, just maybe my life will seem a little more fabulous.

3. What the hell should I blog about? Librarianship, with a little bit of my personal life tinging in? My impending marriage? Seems like the best blogs all have some sort of theme.

3. I have a tendency to adapt my inner voice to kind of echo those who I am most recently reading (Julie Powell's sarcasm, Crazy Aunt Purl's self-deprecation, my sister's whimsical artsiness). My writing style (I feel like a poseur even trying to imply that I have one) is, as of yet, extremely undefined.

4. Fucking wah.

5. I really dig the whole "blog to books" genre. I think it might be time to pull a Gemini and obsessively study it and then promptly forget all about it.

Over and out.