’s been another month and here I am, type-type-typing. Today, I accidentally printed out the holds list from my scheduled day off last week (I always pull the olds if I’m in, pulling the holds is my thing) and while I therefore found almost nothing, I still found 3 books that the person who did holds last week did not find because I AM BOSS. Then I did the actual holds with my superior style and everyone in Brooklyn should thank me because I AM ON THE JOB.

But seriously, I did holds twice today because I am an idiot.

I had a really lovely, social weekend. I saw Spotlight and I loved it and am pretty much decided that “newsroom procedurals” are my favorite type of movie. I also had a harrowing experience last week leading one of my grad classes. Why did I sign up to go first? I have mostly decided that the professor actually thinks I did a good job and is not just trying to reassure me, but there is this gigantic gap between the brilliant, captivating person I appear as in my head and the total mess I am in real life.

I finally bought the D.T. Max biography of David Foster Wallace who was like the center of my world from 2011-2012. I mean, my literary world. I also bought some Charles Bukowski poetry because it is just so great. So mostly I’ve been reading or reading about witty white dead dudes, for which I can’t bring myself to feel too guilty.

What can I say? There’s nothing big to say. I need a nap.