I've decided, since I have gained weight exponentially in the last year, to start consciously trying to eat fruit whenever I want to stuff myself with say, Milky Way candy bars.

So far this experiment is showing that we need more oranges around the house.

In other news, I'm still desperately seeking the Evenstar Necklace I bought at FAO Schwartz on Fifth Avenue. I'm very distressed. That was the second most expensive item of jewelry that I owned, and definitely in the top five prettiest (and also the nerdiest, aside from the One Ring that I got from LOTR Risk, but I swear I don't wear it that often). Wait, I was going somewhere with this line of thought.........
Oh yes, well, because of this seeking of ness, I've torn apart my room (in sections), and determined I keep a lot of useless crap. For example, I still have every note anyone wrote me in high school in a purple hatbox, which I just put under my bed to disappear into the lair of the Beast Who Only Comes Out When I Place My Foot On The Floor At Three In the Morning In Order To Get Up And Go To The Bathroom.
The good news is, in consigning objects to the lair of BWOCOWILMFOTFATITMIOTGUAGTTB, I've categorized my stuffed animals (two categories, cute and not as cute), and exterminated all of the dust bunny mutants festering in the lair of BWOCOWILMFOTFATITMIOTGUAGTTB. Most importantly, I've finally cleared the Other Shelf so that it can hold some of the books that my Bookshelf has been overworked in carrying.

Is it weird that I actually get a kick out of moving books around?I think it has something to do with the fact that now I've got books flanking me on two different walls in my room. I'm a firm believer in the idea that there is "nothing like the rustle of pages to keep nightmares at bay." In fact, I find it hard to be worried when books are around. Even if I'm not reading them, there is something very comforting in books. I hope to have a house so filled with books someday, that if anyone were to break in to try and say, steal the 10' TV I got for Christmas when I was 10, that they would simply trip over a stack of books, get up, and trip again. (In fact, I think I'll reserve a set of encyclopedias- or better yet, a set of Harry Potter books- for this purpose).

I was in Riverside over the weekend, and just about the only good thing about the area is a little hole in the wall (and apparently nameless) bookstore in downtown Riverside. This is one of the few magical places left in the world. It's a lowlit room, and when you walk inside you can just smell the work of a thousand authors. It's wonderful. There are so many books there, by people I'll never hear of or read, books much older than me, books that ran the gamut of hands before arriving in this tiny store run by one old lady. Everything about the place is wonderful. Not to mention the wares themselves. I love buying books. I love adding books to my Bookshelf, I love telling people about books. I love staring at books so hard you stop reading and just start looking at the letters. I love the feel of the pages and the slightly musty smell of old books, and the inky smell of new books, I love tapping book covers against my lips, I love reading books. I love sitting in a place surrounded by books and thinking that, despite whatever happens, whoever dies, or how many BWOCOWILMFOTFATITMIOTGUAGTTB lurk, that there will always be books. Not always in mere paper, but they will always BE. And that is an encouraging thought.

But yes, I also love finding books that I didn't think I needed until I found them. For example, at this bookstore, I found a picture book called Little Daylight which is a faerie tale by George MacDonald, underrated author of great gloriousness. I also found an extremely cheap Discworld book, and a copy of the Once and Future King printed in the 60s. Most importantly I found a FIRST EDITION copy of The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis. Granted, it's only a first American edition, but my heart is nonetheless thrilled at the find. Sure, I have a battered old copy of my own, but this one is not for reading, it's for saying, I have a first edition copy of The Last Battle, which is more than I can say for any of you. In fact, if I die right now, then that shall be my epitaph.

Karly Noelle Abreu
1990-Present
Though tragically taken by malevolent, orange-seeking ants,
she owned a first edition copy of The Last Battle, which you, dear reader, cannot attest to yourself.
Memento Mori


But I don't plan on dying anytime soon. God wouldn't possibly let that happen, in full knowledge of the fact that I haven't found my Evenstar yet.