Thursday, January 3, 2008

Holly GoHomely: One Day Early, One Time Only, Scintillating Introductory Post (With Special Literary Bonus!!)

So, I am going to title some blog posts from now on as Holly GoHomely, colon, something witty. I said I would post these on Friday, but actually I think I’ll post them whenever I feel like it. Why impose schedules on this blog? I like to think of it as whimsical; if it were a person, it would have impromptu dance parties in its underwear and sometimes sleep too late and forget to blog. Oh, wait ...

Anyway, so Holly GoHomely is a response to a coworker of mine, who blogs about going out to fabulous parties under the pseudonym Holly GoNightly. I do not generally go to fabulous parties. I generally go home and watch television. I have spent entire weekend days indoors with Grey’s Anatomy, and I seriously consider staying home from work when it is cold. So I figured Holly GoHomely fit me to a tee.

Now, I love recapping movies and TV shows, but this first post is not that, partially because I’m broke and can’t afford to go to the movies and partially because the WGA strike has taken all halfway decent TV off the air indefinitely (as hard as it is to believe, even I have my standards). This post is about an interesting phenomenon in my life as of late. It happened without my even wanting to, or even trying. It’s new and scary, but I’m dealing with it well, I think. Brace yourselves, people.

I’m reading actual books.

No, no, it gets crazier. I haven’t picked up a trashy magazine in weeks. I haven’t watched a real TV show in weeks. On Tuesday night, Jeff and I watched Planet Earth, the BBC documentary. Last night, we spent three hours reading quietly. And here’s the craziest thing: I kind of love it.

Gone are the bright, flashy, ADD-inducing layouts of UsWeekly; normal books have gentle, soothing pages full of text. Gone is the trivial mind-sucking of reality television; watching a nature documentary I actually learned about wild African dogs and Impalas (the mammal, not the Chevy). Simple as it may seem, taking a break from popular culture has had the effect of a weekend in the country for me: lying on my couch reading Born Standing Up by Steve Martin, the air is still and quiet, and I feel almost like I’m living in a different time and place, where TV doesn’t exist and I have to wake up at 5am to till soil or something ... OK, I mean, obviously nobody’s waking up at 5am for anything other than a carbon monoxide alarm, but you get the idea. For years I’ve been relaxing by zoning out to crap and now I’m relaxing by zoning out the crap and focusing on peace and quiet.

Don’t get all excited, Mom – I’m not exactly saved. I mean, I’m sure I’ll watch my share of TV and read my share of gossip rags in the years to come (although part of the reason I’ve stopped is that even I don’t know the people they cover these days – I’m old! I’m old! I spend all of my time reading and vacuuming! HELP!). For now, though, I’m enjoying the novelty of a good, long read – a pleasure I haven’t truly immersed myself in since I was in high school, when I used to lie in the sun with a stack of crackers and Jane Austen, losing track of the hours, drinking in the words like mother’s milk. And yes, I just got all flowery and rhapsodic and poetic because I am reading real books and that is what that does to a burgeoning writer.

This is Holly GoHomely, out.
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