Reading with Robots

People are always talking about what will happen to books. Will they just become these specialty items that you can only find at garage sales and obscure antique stores, pages all wilted and yellow, and on the verge of disintegration? Will our children's children's children go on school field trips to museums or historical societies, and walk through dimly lit galleries that house all of our favorites as though they were once part of some ancient culture of paper? I could speculate myself, but only time will tell.

Actually, let me speculate for just a moment. I think that even though we are in an age of crazy technology that seems to jump forward every minute, I'm not especially worried about the future of the book. Even with things like the Kindle, that new fangled device that allows you to download hundreds of books, and read them page by page, at your leisure, I'm not worried about it. I saw a woman using a Kindle for the first time ever the other day. It was weird, and then moments later a woman sat down kiddy corner from her and she pulled out her real book. This is what gives me hope. There are far too many of us (myself included) who will always love holding that book in our hands, turning each crisp page. Books have a smell, an intoxicating aroma that a Kindle, or any Kindle equivalent will never ever have.

Although in the end, I suppose, what really matters is that people continue to read. 

Almonds and Acorns

The other night I dyed my hair, with the help of one of my roommates, and two boxes of hair color that only added up to about $16.00. I was blonde for so many years, my whole life up until two days ago, and so I was a little apprehensive about this DIY venture at first. But when the time came to mix those chemicals and cover my head with them, I was raring to go. Now here I am, and I have to say I'm pleased with the results. Feels like a new beginning.

Started my internship today. I was happy to be productive. Lately I've been noticing the weird little things that people do when using public transportation. There was a woman on the B52 bus who always had her right hand gripping onto one of the poles, even though she was sitting down, and with her thumb she kept stroking the metal. Back and forth, almost as though that action was happening outside of her control. Today on my way home, riding the A train to Brooklyn, there was a man reading a copy of Macworld very intently. With one finger, he kept scraping at the same spot on his cheek, but his eyes were on the articles, on the words. I guess it isn't so much people I've been noticing, but what they do with their hands.

It's getting warmer.