I don't own any black clothes. No really. I don't. Yes, that is actually possible. Let me tell you about this little color called gray. It is almost black, but, goes with brown and navy and all kinds of other fun-tastic hues. Why? Because getting dressed every day is hard work. I am lazy. So lazy that part of me wishes it were still as simple as putting on my old school uniform again and heading out the door. So I decided to stop buying black, and then discovered I no longer had to coordinate every damn thing I wore. Everything in my closet matched! Packing was suddenly easy! There was no need to bring both the black shoes and the brown shoes, WHEN YOU DON'T OWN BLACK SHOES. Incredible.
My dog's name. No really. His name is Bradley. I'm not joking. Why are you laughing? Okay, you're right. It's kind of funny. But if there was ever a dog destined to be a Bradley, it would be this one. Now somebody go fetch him a sweater and a pipe; it's time for his evening scotch.
Why adults should read children's books. Especially adults without children. Serious, bill-paying, job-holding, vegetable-eating adults. You have probably heard all the usual arguments, which is fine, because I'm not really interested in them. My favorite quote from Madeleine L'Engle goes something like, "You have to write whichever book it is that wants to be written. And then, if it's going to be too difficult for grownups, you write it for children." The greatest misconception of children's literature is that it is easier to write and read and understand than that which is written for adults. The truth is exactly the opposite. There are only two genres that I know of that strive to communicate the largest of themes using the fewest possible words with a limited vocabulary: children's books, and poetry. Every time I see the smug, Kerouac-toting, hipster barista who's taken a shine to arguing the validity of my chosen profession and the genre as a whole with me, all BEFORE I've had my morning coffee, I want to a.) throw him against the wall, and b.) make him read everything Kate DiCamillo has ever written. Particularly her newest: The Magician's Elephant. And then this post, which really says it best. And then I will request that he and his beloved, eccentric, clove-smoking authors make the ideas of why we are here and what we owe each other accessible to, say, a six or seven year old. I will wish them luck, of course. And only then will I be able to enjoy my morning coffee in peace.
I feel safer in a car than a plane. I know it's completely irrational, but there you have it. My parent's let me watch Miracle Landing with them when I was nine, which was simultaneously riveting and terrifying. Now that I think about it, it may have been my first experience with television shock-drama. Since then, I have fought the urge to bawl uncontrollably during air-travel. Thank you, made-for-television movies!
Blush. Let me guess. You have melanin. How nice that must be for you. I hear it's very convenient to have naturally rosy cheeks, but unfortunately, there are some of us who were not blessed with the gift of pigment. I know the vampire look is very popular right now and all, but let me tell you, some people would rather not walk around looking sallow. Of course, I am not advocating cheek-bones a la Joan Collins. But if I were forced to choose only two items from my medicine cabinet with which to live for the rest of my life, one would be a brush (seriously, have you seen my hair?), and the second would be rouge. Honestly. I might be porcelain, but I am not dead, thank-you-very-much.
We do not have cable. Stop looking at me like that. I am perfectly sane. In fact, I would venture to guess that am a happier person now because I do not have cable television. And thanks to Hulu, I can still watch whatever shows happen to be awesome, FOR FREE. And what does our household do instead of watching television, you ask? Are you serious? Lordalmighty.
So what about you? What have you given up trying to explain? Graphic novels? Chai? Gladiator sandals? No topic is too small to defend.