Saturday Rants

I may be a bit delusional at times– that’s part of the package of being a woman I hear. Or homeschooled.

I go through various obsessions – mostly books, occasionally real life men, some authors.  I stalked the shit out of Linda Bailey when I was 11-12, sending her photographs of me in dresses my grandmother made until I finally met her in person at my library while on tour for her new book "What's a Serious Detective Like Me Doing in Such a Silly Movie?" When approached by yours truly, she tentatively recalled the swarm of photos I had sent her. That was all I needed to hear, so I happily left her alone after that. J. K. Rowling on the other hand, has still not responded to my letter from 13 years ago. Maybe she will recognize me one day from the photograph I sent her.

Let’s see -  Alanna the Lioness herself not Tamora Pierce. The English Patient is my go to book when I need a good dose of nostalgia. Then there was a brief affair with the film Cloud Atlas last year, and now Caitlin Moran herself. Oh yes, the singer Regina Spektor whom I discovered last summer on 8Tracks and then my boyfriend informed me that she is one of the next best things after  sliced bread or the wheel or Xbox.

Even before I was an expat, I turned to nostalgic books and music - Kazuo Ishiguro's The Remains of the Day, Imogen Heap's Hide and Seek. I have tried my hand at nostalgic writing - but it's my witty, humorous stuff that's been getting published. (I quickly flip through the English Patient to comfort me since it is about 2 in the morning in Canada and my mother would not be pleased with more first-world problems from her eldest). If I had been born a boy I wouldn't have any of these problems. My dad would have put me in hockey garb as soon as I could stand and I would have a six million dollar contract with the Canucks by now. In fact, I'd probably be retired. Maybe that is why I feel so bitter and apathetic towards hockey. And the cold. And ice in general.

Now I shall stop procrastinating on getting ready for work.