When the world hits you with the inauspicious “unexpected,” you can A. tackle it with your shields up or B. stick your face in a book. While the former is usually expected of twenty-somethings like me who have responsibilities in social empathy, the latter I realized, is what I’ve been doing for many years. Books are a way to escape to different worlds where people fight and die while you cry, but at the end of the day you’re detached from it all because it’s not happening to you. And that’s why they’re so beautiful.
Things have been good in SF lately. I had Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows delivered to my doorstep on the day of release. The bf’s sweeter than ever, and I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend my days with. Cupcake orders have been pouring despite my feeble attempts in advertising – when you work in the field, you don’t usually bring work home. On a similar note, projects at work have been kicking off left and right. And I’ll be heading down to LA for a shoot next week.
See? Everything’s not so bad. Somehow gloom still looms and I’m wondering if it’s all the teen angst I’m dealing with through reading Harry Potter books.
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