How reading Chick Lit changed my summer

As a young adult I don’t think I am abnormal for admitting that over the past few years I have spent more time watching Netflix, than I have spent reading anything at all. This realization for an English graduate who once had a passion for autobiographies and mystery novels is depressing all the same. Once I recognized that the last book I read in its entirety, Something Blue by Emily Giffin, was over a year ago, I was inspired to take a trip to my local library.

I love the library because I am a young millennial and I am “I go to brunch on Sundays” poor. I am also a firm believer that more things in life should work like the library. It’s a fantastic honor system at its roots. Now if only someone would give me a card for free shoes and say Yes, I will return them in 3 weeks and pay a fine if I don’t.” I should patent that idea.

So back to the aisles of dusty books in the quaint town that I live in.. I searched the alphabetized aisles, taking judging a book by its cover to a whole new level. I eventually stumbled upon Jodi Picoult and I recalled high school age Allison who was emotionally invested in her bestseller My Sister’s Keeper. I also remember being appalled by the movie inspired by the book a few years after, with an entirely different ending.

I picked up Small Great Things by the aforementioned Ms. Picoult, because I felt like I needed some small greatness in my life. I was right.

The story was controversial, but relatable. With all of the shenanigans being broadcast in the news lately, it just seems way too possible. A white supremacist male sued a dedicated black female nurse because his baby died. Even though he told her not to touch that baby.

I don’t want to spoil the end, but some small great things happen. And yet again I found myself passionate about the fictional life of a character that was dreamt up in Jodi Picoult’s mind.

I’d be lying if I said this book got me back on the bandwagon; reading more than watching Netflix. Frankly, that’s not going to happen. But I did return to the library 3 weeks later with the overly ambitious need to check out 3 more books. And it’s been 2 weeks and I honestly have not even opened up 2 of them… but I am a few chapters into another fantasy world that was showcased on the Light Beach Reading shelf at the library. And although I am roughly 800 miles from the ocean, without the ability to take a vacation until at least mid October, I am living vicariously through some chick lit and the happy way that makes me feel has already changed my summer.

No school, no job.. so now I’m gonna blog about my cat? Cool.

It’s all done.

97 days of summer vacations to go.  And then I’m in Manhattan.




*squeeze eyes shut*

I submitted my final 3 essays for my English class 17 minutes ago.  Since then I’ve been digesting the fact I have nothing to do…

I quit Coach.

I’m applying for new jobs.  I got one as a barista at a juice bar and ice cream shop.  I’m looking at waitressing elsewhere too.  The yacht club fell through because when he hired me apparently he didn’t actually hire me?

Da fuuuu?

Well, apparently when someone tells you a starting salary and you quit your job they can change that number at any time.  They can also change you from being a waitress to being a hostess.  They can also make you interview a second time, if they’re really annoying.

They can then unprofessionally walk out of the room and up the stairs if you say “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept that.  I was under the impression I would be making x amount.”

I’m not taking this personally though.. I would just recommend not going to the Youngstown Yacht Club even if your life depended on it.

Well, whatever.  On to bigger and better things.  I wouldn’t want to work for people that operate like that anyways.  And I’ve learned that now I need get everything in writing.

I turned in an application/had a mini interview on saturday with another place called the Bistro.  So here is hoping.

Pardon me, I have to go stop my cat from eating a bowl of Lucky Charms.

And a bowl of popcorn.

We left Clementine home today and God knows what he got into.  I’m honestly SHOCKED the house is still in one piece, and I haven’t noticed any new war wounds on him.

He’s the kind of cat that would throw a party.. ya know?

I’m seriously considering buying him a binkie/nunu whatever people call those chewie baby things. He wont stop biting my nose while I’m sleeping.


Sorry I have to cut this blog post short, Clementine just bit the head off of a Jesus statue.