I've been getting hot flashes all week, and just as I was about to rummage for a copy of my birth certificate, to verify that in fact I'm about twenty or thirty years too young for them, I remembered that they occasionally happen when I'm stressed. I remember my sophomore year in college I would have to change my clothes completely just to get rid of some of the body heat saturating them. They practically steamed. (Surely a use of apostrophe, you say. No, really.)
Grad school questions, job questions, relationship questions (not bad ones in this department, mind you, but still questions), minimal days off, no time to clean my mess of a room, what's to stress about?
At least there's always Harry Potter. I'm rereading Order of the Phoenix and adoring it all over again. I'll be sad when the series ends, because Hogwarts is like another home in my mind. I go there when I need to check out of my everyday life for awhile.
Haha, I narrowly avoided an argument with my manager Deborah over Harry Potter; she is of the opinion that the books are evil. We share the same faith but have radically different views of certain things. Actually I didn't try hard to avoid the argument; she's welcome to her opinion but I wish the Christian community would try to keep itself well-informed before it goes about blasting books it has never read. And that it would also stop believing spam e-mails without first researching their accuracy. Because J. K. Rowling's official website, contrary to spam-popular opinion, does not have links to Wiccan websites; nor is magic even the focal point of the series. (Does that shock you? Read the books, then.)
I could go on and on about this, but then I'd be late for my least favorite job. And we can't have that.
1 comment:
Sarah, I must have had the Harry Potter argument about thirty times with a certain Grove City friend. The frustrating thing about those debates is that you always seem to win every round but the last one, when the other person says she still won't read them. So much of the supposed evidence against HP seems to be the product of a kind of telephone game: because most of the people who criticize the books won't read them, they don't even know how garbled their reasons have become.
On a completely different note, I discovered the other day that my local Ann Taylor and Gymboree stores are next door to each other. I thought of you.
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