Strange thoughts.

Today while writing to a friend, a fellow writer (I do in some sense identify as a writer since I simply do adore expressing myself in the written form) I decided I would make an absolutely implausible book character. People would say "this character simply doesn't make sense, she's not realistic, no one would be able to connect with her as she's simply all over the place" and went on to have some self reflection on how I see myself.

I find I am an archivist born in the wrong generation for I'd rather we not have the option of transferring materials to computers at all, it's a hideous version of what is in it's original form quite amazing. I find manuscripts fascinating and inspiring, their very existence over generations makes me sigh in admiration for the power of paper and ink to overcome time. Therefore, in my academic beliefs I am about 50-60 years behind my fellow grad students and truly embody a 90 year old archivist in spirit. Paper is where it's at. Digitization is a necessary evil with many pros which I cannot deny BUT it simply cannot garner the love I have for the physicality of paper artifacts. I'm not a technophobe but I long for the olden days when it was all paper all the time, 100% glorious gorgeous paper.

However, I am also quite glam. I did my first shoot in Pittsburgh yesterday and had a ball dancing around to pop music feelin glamorous before I left. Truly, I aspire to be stunning. I am a bit of a rockstar- a la Adam Lambert style. Despite some controversial moves on his part I love his edgy look. I think that this:



Is super cool.


Meanwhile in my day to day life I mostly lament my financial ability to procure good coffee, have epic battles with Chris' cat when he is not around to see my true colors, try to resist the internet (ever since I heard of this book "The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains" by Nicholas Carr- see my previous post), check for grades and emails to an almost ridiculous extent, go to bed by ten and spend what will end up a large chunk of my overall existence waiting for the bus.

All in all, I'm horribly implausible. I am just not believable and no one would possibly be able to relate to me or connect with my character. I am currently lamenting this as it makes me feel horribly alone in the world. If people can't connect to my hypothetical book self, how will I ever be understood?! (Only slightly tongue in cheek there. Reassurance still welcome).

At first I thought, wow I am so unique. But then I realized I am just strange. Strange in that if I could I would wear 4 inch heels, glam makeup and crazy styles while working among cold dark stacks of materials in the best of the best preservation environments, have money for chai lattes and coffee at the best of shops, and free myself of the pull of the internet entirely so that I could a glam scholar extraordinaire.

I think someone messed up and put two people in one body. And because of that no one will ever base a book character after me. This is tragic.

Woe.