Miniature Landscapes of Awesome

I have become strangely fixated on terrariums. They combine my love of weird glass jars, green things, and being too lazy to care for anything living into one perfect package. And they're pretty and look all Mad Scientisty, too! I am also suddenly immensely depressed that my house has no suitable windows for the planting of terrariums. Damn you, windows and your... Bothersome lack of ledges or nearby flat surfaces! The universe foils my enthusiasm once again with its inconvenience.



On a related note, my hair remains annoyingly uncut. At the top of my mental To Do list for the day was "For The Love Of God, Get Someone To Remove Some Of This Damn Hair From My Head." I got up at a reasonable hour (for me on my day off, at least), I got dressed, I had a mild panic attack at the thought of letting the people at the salon see how bad I've let my hair get since the last time they saw me, told myself that I was being ridiculous because it's their job to see people with bad hair and make it better, did my make-up, and headed to the salon... Only to find that they were closed. On a Wednesday. What the hell? So I have to work my twelve hour day tomorrow with my big bad hair of shame. Curse you, universe. You win again.

Dum dee dum dee dum dee. Writin’ a Book.

When you’re writing a book with your best friend, sometimes you go to check your email, see things like this, and find yourself suddenly giddy:

Here's my updated parts, including a new bit at the end. We're at 7 pages all together now. Wahoo!

I hope you liked it. I haven't really read it over a million times like I usually do. Just thought I'd send it as is.

I don’t know if it’s the feeling of accomplishment, or the implication that Sarah and I are extremely neurotic, or the fact that a meager seven pages is embarrassingly exciting to the both of us, or the thought of Sarah actually saying “Wahoo,” but that email makes me smile.

Anyway, I should probably be writing that and not this, so I’m going to go do that… And not get sucked into the abyss of Youtube.

Sometimes I wonder how anyone ever grows up at all.

I don't have a lot of time because I need to get up early for work tomorrow, but I felt the need to say this:

I spent the whole day reading Suzy, Led Zeppelin, and Me by Martin Millar.



I've been a fan of Millar for a while and am super jazzed that his books are being republished. Good Fairies of New York was fantastic and Sarah and I have bought Lonely Werewolf Girl for I think about five people now. That being said, my expectations for Suzy, Led Zeppelin, and Me were that it would be fun and lovely, like the rest of his work.

It surpassed all of my expectations. The book is weirdly moving and sort of perfect, if music meant a lot to you as a kid.

It's not a book about Led Zeppelin. I know it's in the title and they're all over the book, but it really could have been about any band. It's a book about being 14, being a geek, being patheticly in love, and turning to music because it's the one thing at that age that doesn't disappoint.

I won't go on and on. It's sweet, funny, honest, sad, and not at all angsty. It has dragons, Atlantis, a zeppelin filled with the ghosts of dead rock stars, and it means a whole lot to me. I don't know why Martin Millar isn't a rock star to everyone, but he is to me.

It's my new favorite book.

Buy it. It's worth it. And a far better use of time than those Twilight books I know everyone's so damn fond of.

Also... It's short, so why not! You can't argue with that.

It may not be pretty, but it's here!