3:54 p.m. - Wednesday, Oct. 08, 2003
Anyway, after looking at the diary, I go back to my buddy list . . . and all the red ones have gone back to black.
I HATE that.
Today I bought a novel by Virginia Woolf: Mrs. Dalloway. I have never read any of her novels before. I've been trying to read it here at work, but that's difficult because it's noisy here, and people are coming and going, I can't concentrate.
I've been trying to read it, and trying to like it. I really want to like it, but... Maybe I should just shut up until I've read the whole thing.
I bought it because I wanted to buy Ms. magazine but I didn't want to buy just Ms. magazine. You know? Why should I care so much what a checkout person at Border's thinks of my choice of literature? It's friggin' weird. But if this little quirk of mine leads me to buy hoity-toity high-brow stuff like Virginia Woolf, I guess I shouldn't try cure myself of it.