The weather today was actually hot. The highs were around 80 degrees, and I was roasting. I was doing all kinds of running around -- errands, housework, appointments, etc. -- and I was cursing the heat. Also, I was wishing I'd worn my flip-flops instead of tennies, even if it meant leaving the beloved wacky socks at home.
I ran into my friend stonebender at the downtown library today, and it was great to see him. I didn't stick around to talk -- the library isn't the ideal place for a lively "let's catch up" chat -- but I'm always happy to run into him. I haven't seen him in ages!
I was very happy that my favorite won this season's "Top Chef." When the judges were talking about the food while they were dining, it sounded to me like Mike was going to win, so I was feeling a bit discouraged ... but then Richard won and was crying ecstatically and it was fabulous.
Today at the library I picked up a YA romance called One Night That Changes Everything (by Lauren Barnholdt), and I've already read 3/4 of it. I'm enjoying it tremendously -- YA romances are one of my secret, embarrassing pleasures. Except I guess it's not a secret, since I'm writing about it in a public journal entry. Anyway, this book is about a high school girl who is (for complicated and unlikely reasons) being coerced into doing all the things she has always found most frightening (not like skydiving, but like getting in front of people and singing karaoke). I'm finding it charming.
I'm still totally addicted to the latest "Glee" song: "Loser Like Me."
Shannon asked, "So does this mean you consider yourself a loser now?" and I explained that it's not about that. I've always had an affection for the marginalized and outcast ... especially for the assertion by such folks of self-respect, agency, humor, and just general rebellious refusal to accept other people's judgments. I mean, I love stories about gay and lesbian (or disabled, or racial minority, or "wrong" gendered, or minority religion, or fat, or just weird, or whatever) folk with the same kind of message ... that doesn't mean I identify as gay or lesbian. It's a larger kind of kinship. I feel like when pretty much anyone marginalized expresses their strength and pride, I am standing beside them, cheering them on and gaining something myself from their success. Like I'm on their side, and in some way they're also on mine. Like we're allies against conformity. Or something.