Amber Sparks

On this day in 1978, I was born. This is monumental only to myself, and yet perhaps someday citizens worldwide will celebrate my birthday. Hopefully this is when I am dead, or too old to care that I am old. For the record, I am not old now. I consider 32 young, and so do political campaigns, in which “young voters” are those under 35. So there, world. I will be celebrating my birthday by eating at a delicious Indian restaurant and potentially, some sort of ice cream product as well. I may watch a few episodes of the original Star Trek series, which my husband and I are working through courtesy of Flickr.  I’ll probably read a bit, and then go to bed since I have to work tomorrow.

Children, this is what happens when you are 32. Don’t be scared. It’s actually quite a relief, after all those years of  “what bar are we going to hit tonight and who with and what are the social implications of this and is there any possibility of seeing any action and is there a show happening tonight and is it within walking distance and am I going to freeze in this downtown and so-and-so’s creepy friend better not come and what if so-and-so is there and do I have to talk to her?” It really is.

Also, Jessa Crispin at Bookslut makes me laugh quite often, aloud in my office. And this was no exception. So, so true. I wish I knew what book she meant.

Sometimes when an author comes up with a really great idea, and with it creates a monster of disappointment and despair, destroying every good thing that could have been, I wish it was okay for another author to do a cover version. Like all those Leonard Cohen songs with the weird women’s backing vocals, which are always so much better when someone else sings them.

Also, John Cole is being very emo about the Senate today. Which is perfectly appropriate, I think.

Finally, a summary of reconciliation’s recent history, over at NPR. Just in case you were curious.