Hello darlings! Have you missed me? (Pretend, please?)
I've missed you all. I've pined. No, really. I mourn the death of my home's Internet pretty much hourly, especially since all the stupid college classes I'm taking aren't stupid at all and in fact need internet to do a large amount of the work.
(No, come back! Come back, I'll stop whining, I promise!)
I'd forgotten that my phone could work blogger, so I'm gonna try and use this to post occasionally (until freaking AT&T gets here with Internet) (Seriously. Doing debate without internet is awful) (Okay, I'm done) because I miss you all.
But anyway. (Again.)
Do you talk about books? I'm guessing yes, if you're reading this. I always feel weird describing the books I'm reading to random people, because too often I'm just like ...well, there's a boy...and he's a vampire/zombie/werewolf/elf....and he's really cute...
But to real book people? Talking to them is fun. I forget, sometimes, that book people are everywhere, though.
I had a conversation with a guy today about books. (Dude, I know. I talked to a guy, about books. A new guy. How weird, right? Don't you love my stereotypes? No? What about my parenthesis?) But that isn't the interesting part. I haven't discussed books with someone new in a long time. I'd forgotten the friendships that done from yammering about them. Stories and characters and plot make the best bonds. At Alpha this past summer, people were able to immediately start conversations because of books, because of love shared over stories.
(But still. Don't necessarily be that person in the book store that is like OMG THIS BOOK I LOVE IT ALSO HI YOU ARE PRETTY. Because books do not need to equate pick up lines.) (Unless he's British. Then do what is necessary.)
Actually, the bond with my best friend came from books. They tie people together easily and there's something magical about that. The best writing comes with friends. The best friends often share books. (Like in Tamora Pierce's Circle books omg Briar and Tris.)
Anyway. For now, that's all my fingers can type on this aggravating keyboard. And to my best friend, happy birthday. :P
Maggie, I love you. Here's to another lovely year of books. :P (Even if 18 means adult and adults are scary.)
More later, people. Continue loving each other. Also, discussing books.
(And if you have internet? Hug it for me. Love it. Because someday, it might be gone.)