Happy Friday, People that I love! I would like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you who took the time to view my blog, whether you thought it was a waste of time or the most profound thing you’ve ever read. (Not likely.) I also would like to point out that I am no longer completely anonymous; I subscribed to my co-worker’s blog. (thatgirlbehindthebook) Makes sense that I would lose my anonimity after only 2 days, as I am very bad at keeping secrets, but people seem to want to tell me theirs anyway. YAY me. Today I shall lay to rest all your minds and go into detail of the origination of my blog name- just in case you want to know more about me. If you don’t- TOO BAD FOR YOU. This is MY blog and I can do what I want! XOXO
I will begin at the near beginning, since I do not recall the process of being born, and anyway- I’m not David Copperfield. Once upon a time, my dad had a very tall friend who babysat me occasionally when my parents needed a break from my spoiled self. One time, I stayed at Very Tall Man’s lovely apartment and he spent the whole night trying to entertain me. I believe I was 6. For a 6 yr old, I was very well-read, and loved to read to people. With my Reader’s Digest condensed Fairy Tales in hand, I spent the next 3 hrs regaling Very Tall Man with stories of Little Mermaids and Frog Princes. Needless to say, I believe listening to a 6 yr old read can make a 40-something man quite bored. He suggested we find something on T.V. In the 80’s, there was this lovely little station called PBS, which provided good family entertainment. Up popped a movie about a little orphan girl called Anne of Green Gables. I was immediately enthralled. For those of you who have never seen this epic movie, it begins with a redhead walking though the woods reading Tennyson’s “Lady of Shallott.” Now, being young, I didn’t understand a single word of what that girl was reading, but the passion with which she breathed the words made me want to be just like her. Long story short- the girl grows up being the smartest kid in school and becomes an author. I do believe “Anne with an ‘e'” is the most influential person to me who never lived. Many, many hours were spent reenacting that movie and reading so I could be a intelligent as she.
Another instance that fueled my love for books: my mom was all about family entertainment. When I was 13 or so, she bought this movie “Shadowlands”, which was a biopic of C. S. Lewis. In it, he had a student who he went to visit. When he stepped into the boy’s apartment, all there was were piles of books. Everywhere. C. S. Lewis (who was played by the lovely Sir Anthony Hopkins) asked, “Where do you get them all?” The student who was very poor, replies, “I buy what I can; I steal the rest. I read them. I read them all.” I honestly don’t remember a thing about the rest of that movie- I only remember I wanted to have just as many books as that boy. I am a book whore because I have nearly every single book I obtained as a child; I am a book whore because I work in a used bookstore and have $600 worth of books stashed away in the back room to buy someday; I am a book whore because it does not matter what kind of book it is, I’m probably going to want it. This hasn’t really become an issue except for the fact that I seem to move alot, and books are heavy.
Sparklebumps. When you read that, what do you think of? Yes, it refers to exactly what your thinking it does. This nickname was given to me fondly by a co-worker I had when I worked at the Great Shithole known as JCPenney. My job was to unload the truck and sort the women’s clothing, distributing it in the proper area. This was a relatively easy job; alas, I am easily distracted by anything that is bright, shiny, sparkley, or ruffley. This became very apparent to those coworkers lucky enough to be within earshot of me as I unloaded any such garments. Exclamations of “OOH! It’s so PRETTY!” and “I must buy this sparkley shirt!” became an everyday occurrence. My sometimes-witty coworker (who did an creepily dead-on impersonation of David Bowie in Labrynth) said to me one day, “You know, if I were to give you a nickname, Sparklebumps would describe you best.” This comment was due to the fact that my overly-ample busooms found themselves at times the object of conversation. ( Mainly when I came upon a sparkley shirt they would never fit in.) I have since moved on to bigger and better things. (Pun intended)