r-e-s-p-e-c-t

tonight i finished altas shrugged. a feat that took almost two months and covered over 1000 pages.

besides basking in my dedication of finishing such a monster of a book. i still had the normal bitter-sweet feelings of completing a novel. finally knowing how it all ends but also coming to grips with the fact that you indeed know how the book ends and it will never quite be the same. sure you could read it again but you will probably never feel the rush of trying to guess what happens silently willing the author to write the novel how you see it working out-knowing you will be disappointed if it really is that predictable and realizing how perfect the story is when it goes completely opposite of what you had imagined.

while in the midst of relishing in a book well worth the pain and struggle, i came out of the hole i have been in for the past two weeks (i have been reading it longer than two weeks but the further i got the less i went out) to interact with actual people. a clear mistake on my part especially in my weakened condition.

i began talking to a friend of mine who had also just finished the book and understood what i was going through and we were talking about how it ended and the things we liked or disliked knowing it didn't matter because the book was perfect. when another person butted in asking "holly, did you just finish?' Can i borrow your book? everyone is talking about it. i want to read it too. can i have it?"

i just stared not wanting to believe what i had just heard. give it some time. let the book rest in peace. show some respect. i did not want someone to read MY book. the book i had just spent heavens knows how many hours reading. the book i carried around in my purse for weeks. the book i was still mulling over. the book i put so much into. touching my pages. what if the book was mistreated or unfairly dog-eared?

it felt like those Christmases where you get the perfect gift and you just want to stare and look and hold your new treasure when your greedy snatchy cousin rips it out of your hands and begins to play with it. not knowing how many times you begged your mom for that gift, or tried countlessly to save up for it but never could, even writing the big man himself, SC, constantly.
And your greedy cousin ruined your moment of triumph.

that is how i felt. what had she done to deserve my book? why was she suddenly interested in my book? it was not because she was interested in the book itself, but in the fact that others were wanting to read it.

she stared back at me and all i could manage to say was... i want it back at the end of the semester. heartbroken. she mentioned something about not having anything else to read assuming it would be an easy task to give it back at the end of the semester. she missed what i was implying. i wanted it back whether she was done or not. mostly implying that she would not be done.

luckily she did not pursue me to my room and my book is still by my side. safe.

frustration

who invented overtype and why did they think it was a good idea?

also if you are going to invent something that obnoxious the least you could do is make it easy to deactivate so i don't have to click on the the dumb OVR thing 40 times.

sidenote: my roommate turned up the thermostat to 85. 85!!!

who is john galt

i am currently reading atlas shrugged....and i'm enjoying it immensely. i don't know what that means.

i think it is yet another piece of proof that i am in fact a nerd.

As we approach friday...

I become more and more confused.

yes. it is going to be one of those blogs. buckle up.

last weekend a relatively cute boy and i met. we talked. hung out a bit. as i was leaving he asked for my number. oo-rah. exciting right? He still has not called. Now in all honesty, i don't now how interested i am/was. he was a cute kid and could carry a descent conversation so you know that is a couple of steps up. also. i already have plans for this weekend. so it isn't like i could do anything. but the thing is...he doesn't know that.

he got the number. why not use it? it is like buying a movie ticket and saying well that was fun and not even bothering to show up for the movie...or the previews.

this is generally when i say man-up. boys generally don't like this phrase. i find it useful.

man-up...if you don't want my number don't ask for it. i promise i will survive. i don't need false interest to get me through my day.

if you do ask for my number, that usually means you were planning on using it. man-up and pick up the phone...dial the correct numbers...stay on long enough until i answer or leave a message.

if i say no..take it like a man...remember i have gotten rejected several times by a non-asking out and have made it. you can do the same.

also. never assume that i will be asking you out. it won't happen.

And the home of the Brave(s)..

When i was little i said home of the braves...i'm from atlanta. it made sense.

As post-baseball season starts and my dear braves are not in the running, i feel obliged to do some sort of ode to the braves.

i remember braves' days in elementary school complete with tomahawks on our faces and red and blue ribbons our hair. ok. let's be honest. my sister probably had ribbons around her cute little braids. my mom was lucky to get my hair in a ponytail.

i remember the fourth of july games when our nosebleed section seats suddenly became desirable as the fireworks show began. i also remember my same sister sitting next to me trying not to past out from fright and my parents trying to tell me not to make fun of her. have you ever seen a person do a one armed wave while still being glued to her seat? well it is hilarious.

smoltzy, spoony, chippy..and any other player the crazy man in front of us put a 'y' on..

my beloved andruw jones. i should really move on but i just loved him.

boiled peanuts. normal peanuts. hot dogs. frozen lemonade.

knowing what player is batting because of what music is playing.

the seventh inning stretch and the grounds crew. always one of my favorite parts.

bobby cox.

watching games at my grandparents' house with my opa saying it can't get much worse and my oma telling me to look at LaRoche's swing.

i think there are two things you can count on besides death and taxes which is family and baseball. although college football is a close third.

The method behind the madness

So. generally people do not associate sympathy with bluntness. i enjoy them together.

thoughts-
yesterday i was 'privileged' to hear from a congressman. (sidenote: everyone keeps telling me i am privileged to hear from politicians, i'm not sold)In answering a question he apologized for answer was so long and went on to tell some cute anecdote that it was generally not his house of congress that is long winded but the other.-- yes. i am being vague for a reason-- In my mind, his apology and anecdote wasted another 2 minutes of my life. please. have sympathy for the rest of us and get to the point.

i would much prefer that people get to the point. it would save time. and energy.

i realize this makes me sound heartless. however....

I believe in sympathy in the normal sense. i believe people should care and look out for each other. i do not believe in false sympathy. i think too often people create this huge production out of a tragedy with no other purpose than to show that they are indeed sympathetic. if you are sorry say it and then listen.