I'm working off and on today. More off than on. I find myself repeatedly picking up the book I'm reading, The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. I'm almost halfway through it, and wow. What a powerful novel it is so far. So raw, so real. A true glimpse of a character that one can understand and relate to, which is not always a good thing. There are ugly parts of ourselves we don't like to admit to others, or even to ourselves. In real life, the main character, you, me, is rarely the hero. This novel, so far, highlights that point in such a heartbreakingly realistic fashion.
So you can see why it's hard for me to tear myself away to write something as inane as my next column. I represent the lighter side of life until I'm ready to delve deeper -- the deep of me is best suited for a novel or screenplay, so much more than can be said in a thousand or so words.
But on a lighter side, last night was fun! After a psycho dinner at TGIFriday's (incredibly loud with a thick slice of Americana), a small posse helped me begin research on another cover story I'm working on. This one is going to be fun to research, I'm diving right in. Holy Hell.
This afternoon, when I finish not-working, M.s. and I will join a new friend in celebrating his friend's 30th birthday. A new crowd, one that promises to be mentally stimulating in the least, and extremely entertaining in the... most? I'm not sure what the opposite of "in the least" is, but you get me. New blood is crucial for growth, both mentally and emotionally. I'm gonna get me mine.
First, though, I think I'll read another chapter and then take a long, hot shower. Because it will help me think of what to write. You know, because I'm working and shit.