Feeling: surreal
Listening to: iPod loveliness
Reading/Watching: Neverwhere... still

Reading reviews (and watching author interviews) of Jodi Picoult makes me want to take a week off from work and just read every single one of her books. (Especially this new one: Nineteen Minutes.)

Hell, not just hers: I want to take a week off from work and read anyone's books. It's been over two weeks and I'm still working on Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere, and that, my friends, is just sad.

I have made a friend at work who seems continually surprised when I make overtures of going-out-of-my-way-niceness. Like she's not used to it. Which, of course, makes me want to keep doing it, because she's quite wry and cool and has an adorable son, but I always wonder about the Things That Lurk with her...

(you know the Things That Lurk, look under your own skin and you'll find about ten or twenty TTLs that most people don't discover about you until the fifth or sixtieth date...)

Another notable thing about this exchange is the feeling that I'm somehow on the other side of my usual making-friends cycle. Usually I hide in my corner until someone else approaches me and surprises me with their willingness to know me. Now I seem to be taking the helm. It's surreal. It's nice. It's still not something I plan to make a habit of doing.

Who is this seemingly confident creature, and when did she steal my face?

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