Monday, November 03, 2008
Pure morning
A friend in need's a friend indeed. A friend who bleeds is better.
Ugh, it's been a slow morning getting started. I almost have a post done on the book Trauma and Addiction and I'm working through Party of One, which is a manifesto in praise of loners and introversion. I have a couple new (used) Whedon-verse novels, the kind I can read in a day, for when I feel really really uggy.
I need to spend an hour on Amazon looking up sales rankings for books, but I'm just not in a data entry mood. But higher-level though processing structures are not online.
I am feeling down and a bit lost. There's a book that I love, that makes me cry when I read it, because I feel so much like the narrator. It's a memoir. She and I are very much alike, have faced and are facing similar struggles, and have the same intellectual interests and coping patterns. I remember I told someone I love to read this book, in hopes that this person would read it and understand me. Understand the challenges life has presented me, and how this author had overcome similar challenges to become one of the most successful people in her field. To understand this book is to understand me, though I didn't say that - I just suggested to this person that she read it. she said she had, and thought the author was "whiny." That was a punch in the gut - this author I identified with and admired and thought of as a role model, this person I loved thought was not worth being around. So what did she think of me?
Sigh. I need to go read some Emerson.
Ugh, it's been a slow morning getting started. I almost have a post done on the book Trauma and Addiction and I'm working through Party of One, which is a manifesto in praise of loners and introversion. I have a couple new (used) Whedon-verse novels, the kind I can read in a day, for when I feel really really uggy.
I need to spend an hour on Amazon looking up sales rankings for books, but I'm just not in a data entry mood. But higher-level though processing structures are not online.
I am feeling down and a bit lost. There's a book that I love, that makes me cry when I read it, because I feel so much like the narrator. It's a memoir. She and I are very much alike, have faced and are facing similar struggles, and have the same intellectual interests and coping patterns. I remember I told someone I love to read this book, in hopes that this person would read it and understand me. Understand the challenges life has presented me, and how this author had overcome similar challenges to become one of the most successful people in her field. To understand this book is to understand me, though I didn't say that - I just suggested to this person that she read it. she said she had, and thought the author was "whiny." That was a punch in the gut - this author I identified with and admired and thought of as a role model, this person I loved thought was not worth being around. So what did she think of me?
Sigh. I need to go read some Emerson.
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