Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Urgh

"Urgh" is what I would say if I had to describe how my head feels.  This isn't because I'm having an existential crisis or anything like that (thank goodness!), but I just feel ... off.  You know, 'tis the season for kiddos at the library to sneeze on everything, like, you know, my face.

So what do you care about my wonky head and queasy stomach?  Actually, I hope you don't think about it.  This is just me, rambling, and possibly feverish.  I'm probably perfectly healthy but my cousin and I share a strong familial bond called hypochondria.  You're welcome!

Despite the fact that I can get on my laptop and let words spill out of my brain, I can't seem to find the motivation to pick up a book and let new ideas marinate.  I skimmed through an ARC today and thought, "Eh."  I'm not going to review it because I pretty much have zero feelings about it one way or another.

Oh my god, maybe this is an existential crisis?

Anyway, I've actually forgotten what else I'm reading and I'm too lazy to click over to Goodreads and see what I've marked as "currently reading."  I recently finished two absolutely brilliant books, Cruel Beauty and Gabi, A Girl in Pieces.  Both very different books, but marvelous nonetheless.  Reading a great book requires a bit of post-reading recovery (PRR).  Allow me to explain with gelato.

Yes, gelato.  Look, I live in Wisconsin, the Dairy State, so I take my dairy products Very Seriously.  The city I'm from is also Very Italian, so when I went to Italy, it was heaven.  Apart from the art and the coffee, the gelato there was simply divine.  And cheap!  I paid like 3 euros for a heaping cornetto of two different flavors made from scratch, not from a weird mix or something.  It was so freaking cheap to eat gelato that I ate it multiple times a day.  It would be like, "Dang, it's three o'clock!  I haven't had gelato in 45 minutes!  Let's get more gelato!"  When I got back to the states, gelato was becoming a "thing."  Unfortunately, this meant that it was ridiculously overpriced (hi, tiny coppa di gelato for $5.95!) and bland.  All of the vibrancy of the gelato I ate in Italy completely spoiled me forever and forever (amen).  Too much of a good thing isn't bad, it just identifies the sad, grasping wannabes of the good thing.

So, if the books I finished recently are Italian gelato, I feel like everything in front of me is American gelato.  That's not entirely fair, because there could be some hidden gems in there.  But right now I have book fatigue and also bodily fatigue and I might go take some cold medicine because in the course of writing this post, I started to feel markedly worse.

And that's what you get when a librarian has had two vacation days to spend in the winter wastes of Wisconsin: a jaded, rambling, cynical post on how Nothing Will Ever Be Good Ever Again.  Tchin-tchin!

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