Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.
Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.
She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.
Buy her another cup of coffee.
Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.
It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.
She has to give it a shot somehow.
Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.
If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.
You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.
You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.
Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.
Again, kiddies and cats (see what I did there? HA HA) I am not leaving you, though some may beg that I please, dear Lord, leave indeed. Like I mentioned last night, I am simply expanding my writing in the form of unsent letters, inappropriate emails, and snippy lunch pail humor. Please read, bookmark, subscribe … JUST LOOK. Much appreciated, and keep on bloggin’.
No, I’m not abandoning you, just expanding. That somehow doesn’t sound better, but I do a lot of projects. This one happens to be letters I write to people: close friends, family, total strangers, celebrities, dead folks, imaginary people, myself, you, and nobody. Some personal, some more on the sarcastic side, but all very real and in a journal I keep of a Disney theme (hence the title). So take a look if you are interested and become an avid fan, if you will.
Marketing Strategies: On why you, sometimes, suck.
If you start “liking” Facebook pages marketing various businesses, clothing trends, lifestyles, etc. you start to get little advertisements on your pages every time you log into your Facebook profile and refresh the page. These advertisements are geared toward what you “liked” (obviously) in the effort to make you buy shit.
Similarly, if you “google” anything (and I mean anything) you will find spam in your inboxes and recommendations just for you on YouTube.
Now I have noticed an increase of anonymous questions in my Tumblr message box. Initially, I thought about answering them, the whole “OMG somebody wants to ask me a question because I am super interesting LOL” mindset going. But I noticed a common feature amongst these anons: they were all completely articulate - grammatically sound if you will. They all capitalized and punctuated where appropriate, they even began new statements as new indentations, progressing from one idea to the next so that I could follow along easily. This wouldn’t seem odd in a book, a newspaper, a magazine article. This also wouldn’t seem out of place had I been bombarded with anonymous questions in the past, a common occurence in my Tumblr-ing history; however, such is not the case.
Also, these questions are oddly specific in context. One anon asked me who I would want to get a Valentine from and why. I have a sneaking suspicion that had I answered something akin to “I would love to receive a Valentine from Mike Rowe because I am secretly in love with him,” I would have been bombarded with ads for Dirty Jobs, Valentine gifts for your manly man, and how-to tips on opening up to your secret crush (probably managed by MSN Lifestyle). Another idea, if you will, would be that had I responded with a statement such as “I hate Valentine’s Day and am totally against commercial holidays and men only acknowledging love on a specific day,” I would have been waist-deep in anti- V-Day propaganda detesting relationships and some book ads with titles like How To Live Without Men and The Dildo: How To Get Everything You’ve Ever Wanted and More.
Another anon favorite: the seemingly fun survey, and these are usually right around seven questions long and almost always ask you to list your top nine favorite Tumblr blogs. Is that in an effort to seem random? Or, is it possibly an easy way to spam nine other Tumblr-ers? A crazy scheme just like those foreboding emails and texts (forward this to 15 of your best friends or you’ll have bad luck for 27 years), a scam for the spammer to acquire more email addresses and phone numbers to shove more vapid shit down your throat, or am I just the crazy lady who thinks any anon who properly capitalizes and doesn’t utilize “u” and “4eva” and “LOL” is automatically a bot trying to annoy my life? (On another, not-so-off-tangentially note, I also hate anons - well, anyone - who utilize acronyms and opt for a one-letter, semantically-correct paraphrase because three letters are increasingly difficult to type out these days.)
Perhaps all those rhetoric courses and debates with my dad over the government and commerce have bred me for cynicism towards marketing and the media. Or, maybe, anons are super English savvy these days, unwilling to disclose their identities in fear that they will be hounded for their correct use of the written word. Either way, I think I shall disable anonymous questions in an effort to defuse spam and decrease the likelihood of some fucking kid in San Diego with a knack for algorithms stealing my identity with the luring trap of quirky advertising through seemingly innocent questions. Even I know I’m not that interesting.
“What’s most troubling about the growing influence of newspaper designers is that it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy: As newspapers and magazines become more obsessed with shorter, breezier stories and visual gimmickry, readers adopt that sensibility as normalcy. We are losing the ability to understand anything that’s even vaguely complex.
At the moment, the leaders of Knight Ridder and Gannett and Thompson and all the other media chains are wrong; people who buy newspapers can still read them. But give them time. They’ll be right soon enough.”—Chuck Klosterman, Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto