On WKAFP concert and reading.

Oh hey. There is an awesome concert tonight and I am going. Just so you know.

My brother and I grew up on books, not television and video games. I do not regret that my parents limited my time in front of the tube. I am grateful, even though lately I've been missing out on some of these 'Hey do you remember this show, and that show? It was better when we were little' conversations that I'm hearing a lot in college, because I never turned past PBS - Arthur, Wishbone, Bill Nye the Science Guy - until we moved to Massachusetts when I was in fourth grade. Going to bookstores was something we'd do after dinner on the weekends, or something. It was exciting. We'd spread out to our respective shelves and browse the selections to our various interests, and we'd sit around for several hours in the chairs at Barnes and Noble, or bring books home and read on the couch.

Reading is awesome. I have the vocabulary and the brain capacity to prove it.

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I like to pretend he misses me. We talked for three hours last night; I went to bed at five thirty.

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It is three in the morning now, many hours after I began this post. Got back from the concert about half an hour ago. The Nervous Cabaret is fucking amazing. Amanda Fucking Palmer is fucking amazing. Neil Gaiman was there too, and he is also fucking amazing even though he was just sitting around after the show signing things.

I babbled like a fool while they were signing my stack of books. Ugh.

More tomorrow. Perhaps photos.

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Oh hi there. You sound like you care about me. I really like talking to you. Um.

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I'm tired. I was literally on my feet for eight hours tonight. Now I am in bed talking and typing. I probably won't be sleeping soon. But I can pretend. Good night.

Sleepy and slightly embarrassed,
Olivia