Something Is Wrong With Me
This staggering conclusion was reached this afternoon when I persisted in leafing through Martha Stewart Weddings
(Summer 2009), which I had actually PURCHASED this morning, even though it had just been the catalyst for a ridiculous fight with Anthemsled. L. told me when we got engaged that I wouldn't have to bother buying any of those wedding magazines, because people would just give them to me. Pff, I thought, I don't want those stupid wedding magazines anyway. Which I guess everyone could tell because no one gave me any. So I had to go out and spend six dollars on this one.
I wouldn't spend six dollars on a used paperback in an independent bookstore this weekend, but I would spend six dollars on this. Exhibit A.
I think it's the ennui of the summer. I know no one will feel bad for me on this, but as a teacher, most of my creative energy goes into my job, and most of my bitching energy goes into complaining about that. But now, two weeks into my vacation and I am gnawing on wedding shit like a beaver who needs to keep filing down his teeth.
Some brief research into past In Her Shell summers supports this. When I wrote anything, it was largely about celebrities or weird dreams I was having. Or both. Exhibit B. Last week I dreamed that I was in a play with Amy Poehler, Maya Rudolph and that doofy guy from The Office
. Maya Rudolph warned me not to get too close to him, but I was intrigued.