Finally found it.

From A Separate Peace:

“His enlistment seemed just another of Leper’s vagaries, such as the time he slept on top of Mount Katahdin in Maine where each morning the sun first strikes United States Territory. On that morning, satisfying one of his urges to participate in nature, Leper Lepellier waas the first thing the rising sun struck in the United States.”

Dang. Out of every book I was forced to read in high school this was the one thing that stuck with me out of those books. It’s a romantic idea, to me, the idea of being the first thing the sun touches each day.

I want to do this this summer. Yep.

So today, I was a gushing fool.

I hate getting excited. I hate waiting for an event, imagining different outcomes and anticipating what will happen. More often than not what I imagine is nothing like what happens in real life. I should really learn that.

Today I met one my favorite authors, Jodi Picoult. She writes fiction. I’ve read every one of her 16 novels, except for one (the content bothered me) and I’m going to start reading her new book soon. She had a signing today at Barnes and Noble. I was excited to go because it’s extremely rare that I get to go to these types of things. Lubbock, Texas isn’t exactly at the top of the list for book tour locations.

I like Jodi’s books because the story lines and characters always are so compelling. The endings never fail to surprise me and jolt me, and on occasion, horrify me. Although they have taken on a predictable format she still manages to blow my mind each time. Normally her books are written through the eyes of five or six characters rather than one, and I admire her so much for this. She manages to take on and bring alive that many different voices and make them distinguishable to the reader. It truly is amazing. I wish I could do that. I wish I could be write like her.

I kept imagining last night what I would say to her. I wanted to say something interesting, something that would catch her attention and make her remember me later. I wanted to be different from the other people and make her realize that I truly do hold her up as a literary idol. I wanted to plan out a conversation that didn’t sound completely stupid. Half of me was terrified that I would see her and stare stupidly as she signed my two books quickly.

And then today, of course, that is basically what happened. These signings always are so rushed, and while I understand why, I still hate it. I want time. Time to ask questions and time to admire for a couple minutes.

Because the Barnes and Noble in the Prudential Center is set up weird we had to go up to where she was signing books in groups. The workers counted us out in groups of 15. I could see Jodi from far away and while I was waiting I kept thinking, again, What should I say to her? As the line kept moving my heart started beating faster. I wanted to be friends with this woman. (Guys, seriously, I’m not a creeper, I swear. I just wanted to have the chance to talk to her.) While I was in line I read her acknowledgments in the book and I was amazed at the number of people who put so much work into this book. I wanted so badly to be part of a team like that. Someday, somehow I want to be part of something that puts these types of works into reality.

I wanted to get up to the table and casually drop into the conversation the fact I’m from Texas and moved here chasing a dream. I wanted to say something that would catch her attention and make her ask me a question, instead of the other way around. I wanted her to be interested in me, to see the potential that I feel is inside me and want to talk to me. It was my dream that she would tell me to wait around, that she wanted to chat when she finished signing all those silly books. I had visions of her introducing me to her editor and demanding that she give me a job as her editor’s assistant. I wanted to hunker down in Starbucks and whisper with her, pick her brain and say, “Jodi, let’s keep in touch. I know, I just know, you and I would be great friends.” I wanted to know where she comes up with these ridiculous story lines, and if it hurts her to become so involved in these character’s lives. Because you can’t write the fiction she writes and not feel connected to those characters. It’s just not possible. A conversation with Jodi Picoult would have been amazing.

I just wanted to stand out. I wanted to beg her to give me a card, to get me in with the publishers. Something, anything. Just notice me. I’ll do anything. I’m a good, dedicated, ambitious worker.

Argh. It was silly. Just a case of my imagination run wild. It happens quite often. And when my big moment came? I said something along the lines of “I’m so excited to read your new book!” Well, Katie, that’s obvious. You wouldn’t have shelled out 2o bucks for a book you didn’t want to read, would you now? It was over before I could even process what had happened.

After I got my books signed I had to go sit and mull through what I was feeling at that moment. I should have been feeling elated that I’d just met her, but instead I felt impatient. Let down. A little sad. I want into the publishing world so badly, but I have to slow down and remember that it takes time. It takes work. It takes patience, and that is a virtue of which I am lacking. Who am I kidding? It’s not easy. Nothing’s ever that easy.

Re-posting.

I was reading through my old posts this morning, just remembering things that have happened over the last couple of years, when I came upon this old post. And I liked it so much that I decided to re-post it. Not for any reason in particular, but more because it just reminded me of a book that I loved. Now I need to read it again.

“She had something in common with him, the possibility of spending Christmas alone with nothing for company but a big book. And something else: a kind of stillness in the face of being left. She had friends, she had her work, but in some essential way the important thing had already happened to her. I was back, yes, but I didn’t ever want to feel that way, that there was nothing new up ahead.

‘Are you lonely now?’

She looked over at me, my mother in her burgundy linen work dress, glasses hanging from a cord around her neck. She shook her head. ‘Lonely is a funny thing,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s almost like another person. After a while, it’ll keep you company if you let it.’ “

Ann Packer, “The Dive From Clausen’s Pier”

I realize I just posted all about this book, but I felt like this deserved it’s own post. I love this scene. I’m not sure why.

No matter where you go, there you are.

I finally came out of my self-induced funk today. At least a little. Ever since the Great Job Mishap of 2010 I’ve been keeping to myself. Laying low to the ground. Reshaping how I think about finding a job, living in Boston, etc. It didn’t help that I’ve been sick for a week now (to the point where it was difficult to lift my head). I let a few too many discouraging thoughts slip in for comfort.

Getting out of my apartment and throwing myself into the city makes me so happy. It’s like exercising: Sometimes it takes a lot of effort, but in the end it’s totally and completely worth it. When you’re sick/tired/sad, it’s difficult to want to make the effort. Which means you stay in and feel worse. Which makes for a vicious, miserable cycle. So today I got out. I didn’t have a particular plan in mind, but I figured I would (as usual) start at the bookstore and figure out where to go from there.

Too bad I stayed at a bookstore for 7 hours. Yes. Seven.

I knew today was going to be amazing when I hopped on the T this afternoon. The driver was exceptionally excited about his job. And really, how can you not be happy about life when the man who drives the train is wishing everyone a good day over the loudspeaker? And asking if anyone has a birthday, and if someone does have a birthday today, could they please come to the front of the train so he can properly wish them happy birthday? Oh, boy. It definitely got everyone smiling.

I had the added pleasure of having an interesting seat-mate on my journey to the Prudential Center. A man sat next to me with an inch-thick envelope on his lap. He pulled out the contents and starting reading through the pages. They were notes from interviews with people who were applying to freaking Harvard Medical School. Geez. That makes my mediocre journalism degree look terrible in comparison. After he read each transcript from the interview he would go to another page that listed each person and then would either put an up or down arrow next to the name. I saw people’s medical FUTURES decided in front of me. It was great.

At Barnes and Noble I grabbed my favorite drink (a grande extra hot chai, remember?) and then started searching for a book/magazine to read. As I’m in the middle of a great book now I didn’t originally intend to get caught up in another. I wanted something I could “half-read” if you will–meaning I needed to read something that didn’t require any extra effort or thinking. And this title caught my eye: Jennifer Johnson is Sick of Being Single.

Sounds perfect! A guaranteed chick-lit read. So I snatched up the book and went in search of a good seat. Although my table-mate was less than desireable (an older man reading UsWeekly and grinning lecherously at me) I managed to snag a seat at my favorite. It’s at a table that overlooks the busy street below the Prudential Center. I turned my chair around so  I could prop my feet up on the windowsill (and thus not be distracted by anyone walking around) and settled in for what I thought would be a little while of reading.

Ah. But then that little gem of a book turned out to one of the best things I’ve read in quite some time. Here’s my favorite quote: “I’m trying to look on the bright side, and I will. As soon as I find it.” Perfection. The book was so good.

And funny too, unfortunately. It’s unfortunate because I am the type of person who refuses to laugh out loud for no apparent reason in public. So this is what ensued:

(Something funny in the book)

Me: Snort-giggle. (Trying to be quiet. So I squash my laughter into my scarf.)

Then I glance around to see if anyone noticed, which of course they have.

(Something else funny.)

Me: Giggle-snort-giggle. Major coughing fit ensues from trying to stifle laughter. Still reading. Begin uncontrollably giggling at the inappropriate things going on in the book.

People staring. Table-mate leaving. (Good.) Guy next to me looking over his shoulder. People stopping. More staring.

Me: Laugh.Out.Freaking.Loud. And it’s not a cute laugh either. It’s a constant, awkward, giggle. I am that person. The one in quiet coffee shops or bookstores that you hate because they won’t shut up already. Yeah…hey.

And so on.

Suffice it to say that book was entirely enjoyable. So enjoyable that I spent seven hours reading it today. And finished it. Three hours in I took a break and decided it would only be fair to switch from Barnes and Noble to the Borders down the road. And I was getting hungry.

So I got dinner. Then I went to Borders. Whereupon I continued the unfortunate read-snort-giggle-stifle process. Until I finished the book.

The book ending surprised me, to be honest. Unlike most chick-lit books, the heroine in this story did not have a happy ending. Despite  a declaration of love from the man she loves and despite knowing she does not want to get married (like she thought she did through the entire book) and admitting it aloud, she GOES THROUGH WITH the marriage.

You fail, Jennifer. Utter fail. This fictional character let herself be roped into a life she didn’t want; a life that every single other character in the book pushed her toward because she was getting older. Because it was the appropriate thing to do at her age. Because she needed to “be taken care of.” Because once again getting married is the ultimate expectation from other people. Bah.

I like this author. I like that she wrote a book that I thought was going to be predictable. Instead it made me think. It made me think about how so many people get roped into lives they don’t want. That’s one of my biggest fears. I’m scared of waking up ten years from now, looking around me and saying “What the eff am I doing?” It’s one of the major reasons I picked up and moved. It was unexpected.

After finishing this book I started walking back toward the Prudential Center. I just needed to think and clear my head. On my way there I passed so many groups of people. Friends. Couples. You name it. I overheard so many conversations about people’s plans for Friday night. Where they were going. What they were doing. What they would eat or drink. What they would wear. If fist-pumping what appropriate. I so badly wanted to hop into one of those conversations. I wanted to giggle with the obviously drunk group of girls and gossip about who kissed whom the other night. I wanted to make plans about who and when and where to meet. I wanted to go dancing with a group of friends. My friends.

What’s ironic about this whole thing is that earlier in the day I had turned off my cell phone because I just wanted to be by myself. I didn’t want to worry about phone calls or answering text messages. I just wanted to be.

That stupid short walk reminded me of how much I miss my friends. Argh. It brought me down just a tad from my 7-hour reading high.

After seeing all those people I decided it probably was time to take myself back home. I went down to the T, where I saw a massive group of junior high schoolers chattering to each other. Yeah. I immediately turned around, walked back up the stairs and opted to walk home.

Truly it was not the best night for walking. There was a pretty steady mist coming down, but I needed it. I needed the sharpness of the air on my face. I needed to hear the constant clicking of my heels on the pavement. I needed to hear the sirens, the honks, the sounds of cars rushing past. I don’t know why. I just know it made me feel less like I was about to float away and more as though I wasn’t alone.

Don’t ask me why. But it made me feel better.

While I was walking home a quote popped in my head: “No matter where you go, there you are.” It reminded me how I used to be unhappy back home. Not unhappy with the people I was around or anything like that. I just knew Texas was not where I was supposed to be. I thought moving would be the ultimate answer to that feeling. I thought it would mean instantly being happy, all the time.

I was terrified that when I moved I’d still feel restless and unsettled. Unsatisfied. Although I don’t, it’s manifested itself into loneliness. And that quote made me realize that truly, happiness is a choice. While I walked I listed the reasons I’d had for moving. I reminded myself they were good reasons. They made sense to me and they still do. I made a good choice. A darn good choice.

So now I have to realize that this is where I am. Boston. Yes, it’s far, far away from the familiarity of home and my friends. I need to settle down, and make more choices that allow me to stay to true to myself and make me happy. I need to change things so I’m not lonely anymore, and if that means reaching out more, opening myself up, so be it. I have become more guarded than I realized, and that’s not a healthy way to live life. It takes time. I know this. It’s a process. But I will find my way. After tonight I have more confidence in that than anything else.

Here I am. Right here.

If you want to hear God laugh…

The best thing about life after college (and yes, I realize how pathetic it is that this is my highlight) is getting to read whatever I want and whenever I want. I love it. Today I even made a list of books I want to read and books I want to re-read. Is that genuis or am I completely lame?

Books to read:

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (He wrote my FAVORITE short story ever–A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings–so I feel like I wouldn’t be a true Marquez-lover until I sample one of his novels.)

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (Ok. I tried reading this a few times when I was younger. Specifically, it was when I was in 4th grade. And I don’t think my little 9-year-old brain could appreciate it.)

Little Bee by Chris Cleave (My friend just told me about this book. It’s a pretty recent release, so I may hold off on it until it hits the library.)

What is the What by Dave Eggers (Um, yeah. After reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius I am dying to read more by Eggers.)

7 Types of Ambiguity by Elliot Perlman (It sounds fascinating. And depressing. It’s just a massive book and a bit daunting.)

The Princess Bride by William Goldman (Saw the movie a long time ago. Figured I should give the book a shot too.)

Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane (Saw this movie last weekend. Must, absolutely read the book as soon as possible.)

The Year of the Flood by Margaret Atwood

The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown (I’m a huge Dan Brown fan.)

Lucky by Alice Sebold (Her memoir. I must figure out why she writes about the things she writes about and I figure her memoir might give some clues.)

Rage Against the Meshugenah by Danny Evans (Hehe. This man is the author of the Dad Gone Mad blog that I follow. He’s hilarious. And if his blog can make me giggle for three hours at a time I figure his memoir must be entertaining.)

Books to Re-read (This list is a lot shorter. But I’m sure I can come up with more at a later time.)

A Separate Peace by John Knowles (There’s something in this book I’m determined to find.)

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee (I remember reading this in junior high and loving it.)

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (I remember this book from my English class my junior year of high school. I think the entire class boycotted reading it because we hated our teacher so much. Oops. But everyone always says it’s a fantastic book.)

I think that’s all for right now, on the books front.

Anyway. It’s been a week since the whole job implosion. And it’s amazing how much better I feel about it. Everything truly is going to be fine, and I came out of the whole thing more determined than ever. So that’s a plus. I was amazed at how kind everyone has been.

I’ve decided one of the keys to making it in a city is to never get cocky. Never think you’ve got everything under control. Because I feel like the rug can get ripped out from you at any time.

It’s like that quote: If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans.

Just don’t even try. Maybe it’s all about simply learning to go with the flow.