These Are The People In Your Neighborhood...

I was waiting for my second bus on my ride home when the young man with the Harley Davidson tattoo and the giant red Macaw sat at the next bench over. He was handsome in a bland, series romance way. I could see him on the cover of that strange new line that revolves around Nascar, only his tattoo was two wheels short.

He asked me about what I was knitting and there was something a little off, but I wasn't sure if it was just his way of talking. He mentioned the bus. Awkward silence.

"Do you know anything about cats?" He stroked the big red bird.

"A little." I said, because one has to be careful.

"Oh. I was just thinking about kittens."

Now I was certain there were mental issues.

"What time is it?" He looked back to where the bus would come from.

"I'm not sure, my phone is dead."

"Why's your phone dead?" He asked the way a kid might.

"The battery ran out."

"Oh. You forgot to plug it in last night?"

"Yes."

It was like talking to a eleven year old, only he was in his twenties and had a giant red bird in his lap. We did discuss the coloring of his bird at one point. And knitting bird sweaters.

He got on the bus with the bird and got off several stops later.

I wonder if I'll see him again. He won't be hard to spot.

I Get By With A Little Help With My Friends...

My newest friend was made almost as a fluke. I went in for this job interview you see, and afterwards I was introduced to the girl who would be my co-worker should I get the job.

There was the initial awkwardness of strangers talking, and knowing I might not get this job and might never talk to this person again and that would be a lost investment, but there was also this *click*. I felt this *click* when I met Meggish and FINALLY had a conversation with Tech Support. Underneath the uneasiness of a first meeting there was this flow of conversation that can only happen when people are in the same orbit.

I got the job, and me and the Co-Worker hung out and knit together. As happens with these things we proceeded to discover how very different we actually were from each other. As Meggish is fond of saying, "I guess we aren't the same person."

Yesterday though, we discovered a similarity that we shared that cemented our friendship like no other. We got proof that no matter our opinions about alcohol, parties or beards, we have something very deep in common.

We were discussing a recent movie as we both knit socks.

"I was SO disappointed." She said. "I was sad for three days afterward."

I took the leap. "I, well, I cried."

"Me too!" She said.

This fact was announced to both of the men as they joined us, and then brought up again at dinner. I think we were both reassured because surely if more than one person does this kind of thing it isn't as silly. Then, the boys got into it.

"I cried at Honey I Shrunk the Kids." I confessed. This was met with loud laughter and confusion. "The ant! It saves their lives and then it dies."

"You know after it rains? And there are those worms that get stranded on the sidewalk? She rescues them." The co-workers boyfriend said after recovering from his laughter.

Tech Support nodded as one who knows. "In the evening, when the snails are crossing the pavement, she saves them."

Me and the co-worker beamed at each other.

Reading

Earlier in the year I vowed to read about 50 paperback books this year. So far this is all I got. Actually there is one missing because I loaned it to Mum. Beau Crusoe was a very excellent historical romance, with the proper mix of dark and light.

So, that's not the book I want to talk about. That's not the book that dragged me down and made me not want to deal with reading anything but the cheap, illicit thrills that e-books bring. No, this is the culprit:



I saw the TV series. I read good reviews. Sure Meggish wasn't enthralled but she can be a poo so I chose to ignore her. I made it through the first book, and about halfway through this second one.

Ugh.

I have this problem with a certain genre of mystery novels and for some reason Dexter, though not really similar in any other ways, shared this trait. Awful characters. I don't mean poorly written, I mean assholes. Every single one of them. Main character. Romantic interest. Suspects. Often in mysteries this seems designed to make it difficult to tell who is guilty, but usually it makes me lose interest. I hate these guys, so why should I read any further?

I didn't. I skipped to the end, read the last five pages, and then deposited it in my "read" pile without any guilt.

I sought comfort in the above mentioned e-books. I read dozens and dozens. Light, fluffy wonderful e-books. Short often at the expense of any depth, but good like a bag of skittles.

The truth is though, that writers need to read, and not just little fluffy happy e-books. I needed to read real good literature. Stuff that at least has the potential to be better than I could ever hope to write. With this in mind, I managed to pull myself together and finish The Wind-Up Bird Chronicles. My favorite Murakami is still A Hard Boiled Wonderland at the End of the World followed by A Wild Sheep Chase, but as always, I enjoyed being confused.

Now, on to these. Three of these I've already started once, but think if I show just a little more fidelity I can finish them.

Any suggestions on what should come next?

Taking Walks

There are times when I can't focus. I have a day stretched out ahead of me for writing and I'm all set with my tea and laptop and all that remains is for me to focus. Focus. Focus. Focus.

Instead my hands and impulses take over, and I'm reading half a dozen knitting blogs, my thoughts run in strange jagged paths that all lead away from my story, the hours go by, I can't stop checking my e-mail and for some reason the only thing I can keep straight in my mind is a smugly smiling James Spader.

Walk time.

The camera in my phone is a valuable tool that actually takes amazing photos (along with dozens of blurry ones). I've started taking pictures when on my little walks, or out with the boy, that inspire me.