unsympathetic.net

I need to stop going to the bookstore.

No. Really. ME and I keep adding to my reading pile, with no regard to what is already there. At the rate I’m going, I’m adding at least two books for every one read.

I’ve started stashing books in odd places–drawers in the living room, an empty inbox on my desk at work, taking up space in my backpack just in case I finish. I’m really running out of places to stash books; I can’t even fit all of the read ones on my bookshelf.

My biggest problem though is reader-paralysis. With all the books laying around waiting to be read (and oh, how I dread the monthly reading-pile roundup when I must acknowledge just how much there is), I’m having a problem picking the next book to read. My brain just melts with the thought of having to make a decision from all the books I have lying around waiting, waiting ever so patiently.

I didn’t know it was possible to have too many books to choose from. I certainly didn’t ever think it would be a problem. Unfortunately my procrastination apparently kicks in, and makes it difficult for me to make a decision, so I make the easiest decision I can: I read the latest book ME has loaded me down with. Because she’s still pushing books at me like crack.

I’m so glad we’re friends.

The next book choice, however, will be third in the Fitzwilliam Darcy: Gentleman trilogy. Lately, every time we go to the bookstore, ME tries to get my to buy it, even though it’s been on my desk for a few weeks know (and imagine how many trips to the bookstore in two weeks that must be). She keeps bugging me because I know that she wants to read it. The trilogy is Pride and Prejudice as told through Mr. Darcy, and well, we’ve always wanted to be in Mr. Darcy’s head.

But after this book? I have no idea.

“That’s the sort of man I am.”

The first time I can really remember hearing this phrase is in a Doctor Who episode–Christmas Invasion–when the Doctor is still trying to find out what sort of person he is after the regeneration.  I keep repeating it in my head at odd times though, and it seems to me that it’s the sort of thought not a lot of people think.

I know what sort of person I am, I think. There are certain tics and traits in my personality that I know belong to me–or I’ve inherited–that aren’t going to change any time soon.

1. I like to be in control. Give me a group project, and I’m going to want to run it. Put me in a relationship, and I’m the alpha-male. I don’t know why Dustin puts up with it. The only time he gets to lead the decision-making is with restaurants and sex. I don’t like to be in control all the time.
2. I won’t lie to make people happy. This is why I have very few true friends. Social lying doesn’t come easy (and you’re deluding yourself if you don’t believe in social lying).
3. I very rarely get mad. Angry, yes. Dissapointed, yes. Pissed off, yes. Mad? Not so much. But when I do get mad, it’s very serious–I get the shakes and can’t keep still. And it take all of myself to keep from flying off the handle.
4. I’m not a jelouse person, and only have one level of trust. K once had an ex that said “I trust you as much as I trust my friends, but not as much as a girl friend.” This makes no sense to me. I trust You to the fullest extent that I trust Dustin. The only difference between the two relationships is one I love like a brother, and the other I want to have sex with. But I trust them both exactly the same.
5. I’m a chronic procrastinator. It doesn’t matter how long I have to do something, I’m going to wait until the very last minute to do it. Deadlines are my best friend.

It takes a strong person to recognise who they are, and own up to it. I’m not saying I know all that there is to know about myself, and I do keep learning new things. When ever “that’s the sort of man I am” runs through my head, it’s a moment that I’ve accepted something about myself that I didn’t know before.

And yes, I do realise it’s weird to refer to myself as a man in my thoughts, as I most certainly am not.

“That’s the sort of man I am.”

The first time I can really remember hearing this phrase is in a Doctor Who episode–Christmas Invasion–when the Doctor is still trying to find out what sort of person he is after the regeneration.  I keep repeating it in my head at odd times though, and it seems to me that it’s the sort of thought not a lot of people think.

I know what sort of person I am, I think. There are certain tics and traits in my personality that I know belong to me–or I’ve inherited–that aren’t going to change any time soon.

1. I like to be in control. Give me a group project, and I’m going to want to run it. Put me in a relationship, and I’m the alpha-male. I don’t know why Dustin puts up with it. The only time he gets to lead the decision-making is with restaurants and sex. I don’t like to be in control all the time.
2. I won’t lie to make people happy. This is why I have very few true friends. Social lying doesn’t come easy (and you’re deluding yourself if you don’t believe in social lying).
3. I very rarely get mad. Angry, yes. Dissapointed, yes. Pissed off, yes. Mad? Not so much. But when I do get mad, it’s very serious–I get the shakes and can’t keep still. And it take all of myself to keep from flying off the handle.
4. I’m not a jelouse person, and only have one level of trust. K once had an ex that said “I trust you as much as I trust my friends, but not as much as a girl friend.” This makes no sense to me. I trust You to the fullest extent that I trust Dustin. The only difference between the two relationships is one I love like a brother, and the other I want to have sex with. But I trust them both exactly the same.
5. I’m a chronic procrastinator. It doesn’t matter how long I have to do something, I’m going to wait until the very last minute to do it. Deadlines are my best friend.

It takes a strong person to recognise who they are, and own up to it. I’m not saying I know all that there is to know about myself, and I do keep learning new things. When ever “that’s the sort of man I am” runs through my head, it’s a moment that I’ve accepted something about myself that I didn’t know before.

And yes, I do realise it’s weird to refer to myself as a man in my thoughts, as I most certainly am not.

Not a bad week… Vampires, time-traveling knights, love-stricken lawyers, and a trilogy of a crazy futurestic world that rebuilds people to make them vapid and sheeplike. At least there’s a bit of variety going on. Nearly done with the trilogy, but I just had to take a break. I can’t read three books straight in a row without some empty space, so I’ll finish the last book tomorrow.

1. Circus of the Damned - Laurell K. Hamilton
2. A Knight in Shining Armor - Jude Deveraux
3. Harlequin Presents: The Marriage Possession - Helen Bianchin
4. Uglies - Scott Westerfeld
5. Pretties - Scott Westerfeld
6. Blinking With Fists - Billy Corgan

At least I had the poetry of Billy Corgan (yes, that Billy Corgan) to break things up. His poetry is just as…as his music is. There are moments in each poem where you finally get it, but then it flows back into something incomprehensible–at least for me, on the first reading, it was.

It appears that 9rules is clumping together to get a book project off the ground. And you know how much I love books.

Everything is still in the planning stages, and a book topic hasn’t really been set yet, but I thought it was a good idea as any to ask people what they would want to see in a 9rules book.

After all, 9rules means different things to different people, and that means that everyone will expect something different when it comes to the book.

So here’s the question: would you buy a 9rules book when it comes out? And if you would, what would you like to see in it?

Not so many books this week, what with the beginning of the semester and all. Madras was an attempt to figure out why everyone in the English department loves this book. And I still don’t get it. Wasp Factory was my sister’s recommendation, and it’s creepier than hell. It took awhile to understand it, and even then, not so well.

1. Madras on Rainy Days - Samina Ali
2. Harlequin Presents: The Italian’s Inexperienced Mistress - Lynne Graham
3. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks

Did I tell you about the time my mum accidentally made peas for dinner?

We’re sitting down to the table, all three of us. Tri-tip sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil await unveiling on our plates. The only serving dish on the table is vegetables. A weird medley of vegetables that up until that moment I would have bet good money against ever appearing on the menu in this house.

“I thought you don’t like peas,” I say. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, said as I’m dishing out the mix of potatoes and peas that has found it’s way to our meal.

“I don’t.” My mum scoops out vegetables for herself.

“Then why are we having peas for dinner?” I ask as I unwrap my sandwich, warm from the oven.

“We’re not. These are green beans,” she says.

I look at her for a long moment. I look at my father. I look back at her. “I didn’t know that peas came from green beans.” It is so very hard to keep a straight face.

“They don’t.”

“Then where did the peas come from?” These were snowpeas in the bowl, seed pods still filled with peas. Some had escaped from their shells, scattering over the potatoes, a mesh of green and tan that appeals less and less.

“Those are green bean seeds, not peas,” she says confidently, spearing a pod and popping it into her mouth. She chews once. Twice. Forces herself to swallow. “These arn’t green beans, these are peas!”

I can’t hold it any any longer, and a laugh escapes, bubbling out of me, overflowing laughter.

A discussion ensues about how it is possible for sweetpeas to be mistaken for green beans–lumpy, misshapen greenbeans. And the only question not voiced, if only to spare further embarassment–how sweetpeas were purchased without ever noticing what they are.

Because I have never seen a vegetable mix sold at Costo containing potatoes and sweetpeas, nor would I have expected to. Which means each was bought separately, and combined after the fact into the bowl.

And how that seemed like a good idea, even when she thought it was potatoes and green beans, I have no idea.

– “Truth of My Youth,” Catalyst: New Found Glory

Yay! First day of the semester. Last semester I’ll be at this lovely little school.

It’s hard not to think ahead, to imagine what next semester will be like at Chico State, never mind that it’s all dependent on whether I pass my Math class. My mind is nowhere where it should be–I’d rather be in the Habari IRC room instead of here right now. After all, who knows what they’re going to decide on without me!

At least my schedule is a little easier than I thought it would be. Apparently, not enough people wanted to take International Contemporary Modern Art–From the 1980s Forward, so my art history class was dropped. I needed it to fill a requirement to transfer as a Junior, but I’m not too worried about it. I’m sure Chico State has a lit class that will fill the same requirement.

It’s a bit strange not to have a full load–my first thought whe n finding out my class canceled was to find another one. I’m sure there’s a lit class open in the same time. But my mum assured me I didn’t have to fill the gap, and I’ll get to work more this semester. Which is good, since I need that money.

But I’m left with only three classes. And that just makes me feel lame. Maybe I’ll help tutor my sister’s English 300 (1A) class. She’ll need the help, and her teacher–who I made her enroll with–likes me. And I’ll probably need a letter of recomendation soon, and no time like the present to start brown-nosing.

My dad and I always have the most interesting and irrelevent arguments over dinner. Usually, it invoves a word, and whether or not it is real and/or being used correctly.

The other night, the word we were arguing over was ‘allay.’ It came up as we were talking about his work (he’s a plant manager for a concrete company) and how his customers were worried about the coming frost. I asked if he was was able to allay their fears, and he gave me a dirty look.

“No, I didn’t assuage their fears,” he said.
“Oh, so you didn’t allay them either?” I responded.

What followed was a verbal argument about whether ‘allay’ was really and truly a word–because of course he didn’t believe me. As soon as we were able, he removed himself from the dinner table, and stalked off to grab my dictionary and thesaurus.

As soon as I finished up the dishes, I joined him back at the table, where he was looking up the word, to no success. I cracked open the thesaurus, and found the word in thirty seconds.

Definition:
1 : to subdue or reduce in intensity or severity : ALLEVIATE <expect a breeze to allay the heat>
2 : to make quiet : CALM <trying to allay their fears>
intransitive verb, obsolete : to diminish in strength : SUBSIDE
From the Merriam-Webster Dictionary

I’m not surprised the ‘allay’ wasn’t in my dictionary. After all, it’s only a collegate dictionary, and as such it doesn’t contain all the words. That’s why my thesaurus is so handy–not only does it give the synonyms, it gives the definition for the orignal .

It was so very nice to prove to my dad he was wrong. It’s not very often that I can teach him something he didn’t know, and will believe me when I show him. Usually, I show him, and he’s still disbelieving.

It’s nice to be the one who’s right for once.

– “Thorn in my Pride,” Rotator: Dizzy Mizz Lizzy

Finished books for week two. Harlequin romances are a nice counter point to serious literary work. Unfortunately, I didn’t read any of those this week. Just Sci-fi, romance, and a really bad YA chic-lit.

1. Private - Kate Brian
2. Harlequin Presents: Pleasured in the Billionaire’s Bed - Miranda Lee
3. Hidden Truth - Dawn Cook
4. Forgotten Truth - Dawn Cook
5. Harlequin Presents: The Sicilian’s Bought Bride - Carol Marinelli
6. Lost Truth - Dawn Cook
7. Harlequin Presents: The Christmas Bride - Penny Jordan

The First Truth series was really good, and I’m sure I’ll be looking for more books by Dawn Cook. And I’m sure there’s more Harlequin Presents in my future, since ME gets the new books every month, and we have to read them so that we can make fun of the plots.