I've made my mark

Several months ago: I sit on a friend's bed, and fall to stroking an extraordinarily soft blanket she has on her bed.

Beanie: It's so soft. This blanket is made of bunnies!

Present: The blanket is still being called 'the Bunny Blanket.'

I feel good about myself in a small way.

(no subject)

I went into the bookstore looking for "The Boy in the Striped Pajamas" by John Boyne, which has reservations 10 deep at the public library, and I walked out with "Orcs" by Stan Nicholls.

Translation: I went to a store to by a book written from the perspective of a Nazi work camp commander's 8 year old son, and I walked out with a collected trilogy that re-tells a slightly twisted version of the Lord of the Rings from the point of view of the evil troops.

God, I think I must be going insane.

I also noticed the physical truth of the phenomenon that I hate so very much, which is that the "Sci-Fi/ Fantasy" section of the bookstore is devoid of the most famous authors of the genre, because good books cannot be called Sci-Fi. William Gibson, creator of the idea of cyberspace, geek extraordinary, was in with the rest of the un-genred fiction.

Ah, it is a dark day for my people.