A behavioral therapist once told me that we have a tendency to repeat our mistakes over time, and we can’t break that cycle until we recognize WHY we make those mistakes. I ended up listening to this audiobook in the same way I ended up watching Boogie Nights. I heard a description, assumed it was about one thing, and then was very surprised to end up watching porn with my mother. It’s obvious I don’t fully read the description before I checked out Maestra. The first line of the blurb made it sound great for a commute listen – a young English woman working as an assistant in an art gallery….Boom! Downloaded. Sounds like girly fun!
Chad was in the garage with Bon Jovi cranked up on the old stereo system, but he could still hear the girlish shrieks coming from inside the house. Kendall had been on Skype with her old sorority sisters for over an hour and she was still shrieking in that special way women show excitement when they’re with each other.
“Reginald!” Chad bellowed, picking up a broom and pounding the bristles against the basement floor for emphasis. “You have two litter boxes!”
“Dang it, Kendall” Chad said, more to himself than to his wife, Kendall, who was nowhere within earshot. Chad had spent the past two minutes trying to figure out why the bedside lamp wasn’t turning on, only to discover that it had been unplugged.
Kendall shut the kitchen window firmly, hoping to drown out the sounds of a million screeching Valkyries coming from the garage. Chad was back from his fraternity reunion near Cincinnati, Ohio, and had brought back a little something from his trip.
It was a dark and stormy Monday morning, the first of the month. A typical cheerful Monday in Ohio: gloomy, yet damp.
I have many talents and abilities. I’m an OK flute player. I can make a frog puppet out of my fingers. I can do push-ups. I’m usually pretty good at my job. I’m good at setting lots of personal goals. One thing I’m NOT so good at is following through on those goals. I’ll walk into a room and grandly announce that I’m going to paint the room purple, but then I’ll use that money to buy jeggings. Or maybe I’ll change my mind and think that gold paint would look better than purple. I’m a combination of easily distracted and self absorbed that has on two separate occasions resulted in 1. my nearly getting hit by a Ghostbusters replica vehicle and 2. me stepping up to my knee in freshly poured cement.
In 2017 I’m going to do the #unreadbookshelfchallenge proposed by Twitter user @bythesheetstore. She proposes we read at least a book a month to clear our backlog of books we’ve hoarded.
I’ve got a ton – most are partially finished. As I’ve become lazy and am now mostly reading on Kindle or listening to audiobooks, I’m going to focus on analog books. My shelf is an odd mishmash of horrible chick lit, draft romance novels my brother gets from work, top ten bestsellers passed on by my boss, self published stuff my mom has picked up, and cheesy self help books assigned to me by other people. Side note: if someone offers you a self help book, they’re telling you that you need it. So it’s probably not the best idea to yell “BLAAAAHHHH” halfway through and whip it across your bathroom.
If you’re interested in this, you can tag your progress using the #UnreadBookshelfChallenge. Let’s deal with this mess!
Jane Green is insane, and I don’t hate her for it. She’s written approximately one million novels, and I admire that kind of creative output. She also seems well meaning, and I bet she’d be fun to get margarita drunk with. Unfortunately, while I’m sure she’d be lots of fun and very polite, I can’t imagine her coming over to my tiny house in my tiny town, or sitting on my sofa from Goodwill. While I delight in my clever thriftiness, I don’t think Jane could handle it. No, Jane Green seems like she might be fancy, and that’s why I read her books the way some people devour Us Weekly. Pure rubbernecking.
I swear that this time my lack of updates isn’t because I forgot I have a blog. It’s because I’ve had writers’ block for the last year or so, and I’ve had a hard time focusing my attention and energy directly onto any one project for more than a few weeks at a time. It’s been fun to wallow around in dramatic, emotional, existential gloom, but all good things must come to an end. Last week I realized in a panic that NaNoWriMo is about to start again, and I haven’t missed a year since my first successful novel writing in 2013. “Better get started, then, with that research and outlining!” I thought to myself upon waking last week. So I immediately did what any writer does: I logged into Overdrive and downloaded an audiobook. My first rule of NaNoWriMo is always procrastination.