How to Survive the Zombie Apocalypse and Other Scrambled Eggs

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June 23, 2010 Talk About Interactive and Innovative:  Fun with Vampires and the Internet

Thanks to my fav book reviewer, In Bed With Books (author Lauren Mechling highjacked Liviania’s blog), I just stumbled upon  one of the coolest “books” of the summer.  The reason I have bunny-eared the book thing is because My Darklyng, written by Lauren Mechling and Laura Moser, is completely compiled online.  COMPLETELY.   You can find the chapters here:  My Darklyng.  It gets better… you can read them FOR FREEEEEEE!   Co-authors Moser and Mechling have created an entire online world for their vampire novel which takes a witty stab (no pun intended?) at the seemingly never ending vampire novel trend.  Not only can you read My Darklyng  online, but you can follow the characters on Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube.     New chapters will be posted through August this summer. 

Thank you to Double X for writing an awesome review.  I would have written my own, but I just happened upon this sweet tid-bit today and was just too excited to wait until I’ve read the entire novel to post the info.  So here’s a little slice of what the book is all about:

“In this one, readers get to know Natalie Pollock, a normal-enough 10th grade girl who happens to be obsessed with a certain vampire series.  From the moment Natalie tries out to be the next cover model for one of the Dark Shadows books, her fantasy turns into a nightmare replete with solicitous NYC models, dead squirrels, a psych ward, and little orange pills.  We like the novel for its clever mystery plot, its ear for jumpy teen dialogue and its wit.  Also, we like it because of its skeptical take on the vampire craze that never seems to end.”

Cool, right?  I hope you take the time to check it out.  I know I was hooked from the minute I read that Natalie’s favorite books are The Awakening and The Giving Tree which just happen to be two of my very favorite books.  Enjoy!

May 11, 2010 Featured Teen Writer

Our resident Power of the Pen winner, Mikale, has another story to share…

The Secret Life of an American Kindergartner

“Where do babies come from?” Mary asked her father one Monday morning.

He blinked and froze, causing the coffee he was pouring to overflow his mug. Visibly flustered, he got a dish towel and began to wipe up the mess. Mary held her hands behind her back, cocked her head to the side and smiled patiently.

      “Ahem. Well, uh, you see Mary…and then…” Mary’s father took a sip of his hot coffee to stall for time and screamed and jumped from the shock of the pain, effectively burning his chest as well as his tongue.

Mary just looked up at him with large, doe eyes and slightly pivoted on one foot as her father peeled off his steaming button down and hurriedly walked out of the room. When the sounds of running water and curses reached her from down the hall, she leaned on the counter and cautiously sipped from what was left in her dad’s coffee mug.

      “Hey Dad, do you mind if I go over to Cindy’s house after school to play with dollies?”

      “In the middle of another remark of self-loathing, her father replied, “Sure, be back by four!”

      Mary poured fresh coffee into her Elmo’s World cuppy—no cream or sugar this time—as she said, “Thanks Daddy! See you soon!”

She slung her Pretty Princess back pack on her back in one move (nearly better than your average teenager) and ran down the stairs. It was a nice day. Birds were chirping, the sun was out, she had coffee…yes, things were good. Things would soon be going even better, six year old Mary thought to herself as she looked behind her to make sure no one was looking and quickly turned down Everett Drive, a side street going in the opposite direction of Fairhill Elementary School. Yes, you read that right. Mary is six years old. She sees bigger and better things ahead of her than sudden popularity from owning the new My Little Pony set.

Mary thought of this as she undid her childish pigtails and smiled to herself as she felt the rumble of the music just a couple of houses before 4321 Everett Drive. She never told anybody this, but she always thought she could feel just a slight, nearly undetectable thump thump thumpthrough her light-up Sketchers (which by now she had stopped and switched for strappy heels). Deep down she knew it was a ridiculous thought. The room in which she spent most of her time was in fact sound proofed. But she still amused herself with the mere idea as she walked up the steps to 4321 Everett Drive. She turned to the potted plant resting on the porch and stuck her hands in its soil, dug around until she found a key, (It was too dangerous to keep one for herself) and went inside.

Your average person would have stopped to look at the grandness of the place. Even the owners of the house had to stop for a minute to take in the high ceilings, modern paintings, and expensive, never-sat-in-looking furniture. Mary didn’t take a second glance at the intricate designs professional artists spent days painstakingly carving into the walls. She just put her empty coffee cup in the sink and continued down a long hallway, the clank of her shoes echoing in the seemingly empty house. She went down a winding staircase into the basement, walked right past the 52-inch  flatscreeen television hanging proudly among the theater-styled seats, walked to the back of the room and opened a door.

She stood there for a moment, taking it all in: the other kids, the bean bag chairs haphazardly thrown around the room, and the steady thump thump thump of the music—things as familiar to her as the very skin covering her flesh. Mary suddenly unlaced her shoes and wriggled her bare toes on the floor, reveling in the feel of the beat pulsing from her feet to her heart.

            Davy frowned and turned the music down. “You know you don’t have to take your shoes off in here.”

            “I didn’t care about ruining your precious floors,” Mary replied as she rolled her eyes; her small, squeaky voice dripping with sarcasm.

She threw down her book bag with disgust and flopped down on one of the bean bag chairs.

            “Hey! What happened to the musi—hey Mary!” A bouncy—yes, bouncy—teenage girl hopped over to where Mary was splayed about, followed by a couple of other kids.

            “Hey Alice!” Mary puffed out as she was lifted out of her seat and joggled around by Alice’s enthusiastic hug. When she was released she picked up a pop and said, “Only you, Alice could give an enthusiastic hug.” The others laughed. Alice took a sip of her drink and said, “How goes it, guys?”

And so the day went on, Mary cutting elementary school with her high school friends.

They sat and talked over the undertones of the music Davy played. He was very proud of his stereo system complete with surround sound.

“It’s the only place where I feel like home in the whole house.” He said later that day.

“Oh, poor David, son of millionaires living in a mc-mansion. Oh the pain! The agony!”

“Shut up, Alice!” David said half-heartedly as he smiled bashfully through his eyelashes at Alice, who flashed a bubbly smile right back at him.

Mary smiled at them and reached for a chip from the snack bowl. They were gone.

“Snack run!” Mary announced, breaking the light tension caused by the sparks emanating from Davy and Alice.

“Nose goes!” Alice yelled, seemingly forgetting what had just gone on seconds before.

Everyone rushed to touch their noses with their index finger and stared at each other fiercely to see who had gone last. Davy cracked and left the room with the chip bowl and a sense of relief. Everyone laughed.

“Hey, what time is it?” Mary asked nonchalantly.

“Uhhhh…4:16.”

“Crap!”

Mary hurriedly grabbed her shoes and backpack and ran up the stairs.

“See ya!” Everyone yelled out at her.

She nearly collided with Davy while putting on her heels.

“Hey, uh…I gotta go.” Mary clanked up the stairs. Just as she reached the top, she turned back. “Hey Davy! Make sure you ask Alice out. Yeah, I saw you too.”

He blushed and waved goodbye. He stood at the winding staircase until he heard the door slam.

“You’re not so bad for a six year old,” He said to no one in particular.

Meanwhile, Mary trotted away from 4321 Everett Drive, braiding her hair into messy pigtails. No matter, she could always say she was playing…

            “Mary! There you are! I was starting to get worried!” Mary’s father stood at the intersection of Everett Drive and Mary’s street. “Why are you coming from down there?” His eyes traveled down to Mary’s feet. “And the shoes…”

Mary thought fast.

            “So, about what we were talking about this morning…”

Mary’s dad forgot about what had just happened in the past two minutes as his body went on lockdown for the third time that day (the second time had been when Mary’s mother had called his job and asked why he never paid her any attention). An audible gulp came from his throat. He made decision. No turning back now he thought as he unsteadily walked over to Mary, took her by the hand, looked straight into her eyes and said, “Want some ice cream, Hon?”

Mary widened her eyes, flashed her snaggle-toothed smile and nodded her head innocently.

Her father let out a sigh of relief.

It’s just too easy, she thought as she confidently clanked the rest of the way home.

May 6, 2010 Spring Reading

Recently I have been reading contemporary young adult literature.  Will Grayson Will Graysonby John Green and David Levithan, tales of the MADMAN Underground by John Barnes, and Lock and Keyby Sarah Dessen, all of which are amazing.  You can read about them in this month’s TRASH Picks.  However, every once in a while I have an urge to revisit books from my past.  My old standbys, my best friends.   These are books that give me a warm filled-up feeling every time I read them.  There is nothing like discovering something new about words that you’ve read a thousand times over.  I get the itch to read these on rainy days, stressful days, nostalgic days, and most recently spring days.  There is something comforting about curling up with a book I already know the ending of but maybe have forgotten the flow of the words or the flow of the story.  I know the outline by heart but need to color the picture in again. 

Last week on one of the rainy spring days when everything turns green in what seems minutes, I remembered one of my best friends:  The Secret Gardenby Frances Hodgson Burnett.  Don’t let it fool you into thinking it is a book for only children because it is a children’s book, or that it is not worth reading because it is old.  For lack of a better phrase, it is a “timeless classic.” 

The Secret Garden is a story about change, renewal, and new life.  Not unlike spring itself, it starts bleak and grey and blossoms into a colorful story of discovery, happiness, and new beginnings.  Okay, okay, I’ll stop with the mushy stuff.  Let me just share one of my favorite parts:

One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one’s head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one’s heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun–which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. One knows it then for a moment or so. And one knows it sometimes when one stands by oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in some one’s eyes.

And it was like that with Colin when he first saw and heard and felt the Springtime inside the four high walls of a hidden garden. That afternoon the whole world seemed to devote itself to being perfect and radiantly beautiful and kind to one boy. Perhaps out of pure heavenly goodness the spring came and crowned everything it possibly could into that one place. More than once Dickon paused in what he was doing and stood still with a sort of growing wonder in his eyes, shaking his head softly.

(The Secret Gardenby Frances Hodgson Burnett)

Now doesn’t that make you want to just live forever?  I do when I read it.  Or at least I am reminded of times when I’ve felt this way.  Anyone else have a favorite spring read?

March 16, 2010 History Lesson

This week I’m taking a much needed vacation.  Even librarians deserve a Spring Break.  Now don’t get carried away, I’m not going to Cancun or anything.  I’m going down to Florida to visit my grandparents with my Mom and Dad.  Exciting, huh?  For me, the idea of doing absolutely nothing for an entire week sounds AMAZING.

Anyway, I thought I’d take this opportunity to give you all a brief history lesson.  I’ve been going down to Ponte Vedra to visit my grandparents every Spring Break since I can remember.  Fun fact if you enjoy golf:  Ponte Vedra is home to the TPC where the Players Tournament is held every year.  (Sidebar: TPC stands for The Players Club.  So if I call it “The TPC” am I really saying “The The Players Club?”  It’s kind of like calling the ATM an ATM machine, when the M already stands for machine.  The Automatic Teller Machine machine?  Sorry.  Tangent.)  Ponte Vedra Beach is just North of St. Augustine.  St. Augustine is the oldest continuously populated city in all of the continental United States.  It was first explored in 1565 by Juan Ponce de Leon governor of Puerto Rico.  That’s this guy…

He was trying to find the legendary Fountain of Youth.  Now you can pay $9 to see the “Fountain of Youth.” (Don’t waste your money it’s just a fountain.  The peacocks are cool though.)

Being a really really old city means having a lot of really really cool history.  Fort Matanzasis a Spanish fort built in 1740.  It took two years to complete and was made using Coquina.  That’s Spanish for “cockle” like the shell.  You can actually see the sea shells in the walls of the fort.

It is also home to the oldest wooden one room school house.  The school house has one classroom downstairs and upstairs is where the school teacher and family lived.  If I remember correctly, if you take the tour, there are some creepy robotic “school children” downstairs, including one in the corner with a dunce cap on.  That’s definately worth your money.

 

Speaking of creepy, there are also tons of ghost toursyou can go on after dark… muhahahahaha.  I went on one a couple years ago that included the Spanish military hospital.  They tell you stories about the wounded and dying soldiers while you’re standing in a tiny room in the dark with one candle.  You can tell me you wouldn’t get creeped out, but I won’t believe you.

St. Augustine is also home to Flagler College which is part of the former Ponce de Leon Hotel.  Totally cool because the dorm rooms are fancy old (haunted) hotel rooms.  My cousin went there and loved it.  It’s a pretty small liberal arts school and is on the list of “America’s Best Colleges.”  If you’re looking for a small town school in a warm state this is a great option because (comparatively) it’s affordable as well.  Tuition for the 2009/10 school year was $13,300.  And it’s pretty…

So there’s your history lesson for the day.  I’ll see y’all in a week.  Likely with a sunburn.  I have an Irish skin tone (pale) prone to immediately burn as soon as I step in the sun.  Yay for SPF 45!

P.S.  Next Heights Writers meeting is 4pm April 1st

March 13, 2010 In Bed With Book Reviews
 

Okay, so lately most (all) of my posts have had something to do with Heights Writers but I stumbled upon this today and I just couldn’t help but share.

I think she could be my new favorite book reviewer:  In Bed With Books

Apparently, she’s been around forever and I never knew.  I’ve been living under a rock.  I mostly enjoy her reviews because she reads books that I read (YA).  Wonderful, right?  Right.  Just thought I’d share in case you were looking for a good book.  I’m currently reading tales of the MADMAN underground by John Barnes.  By currently reading I mean just started, but he’s got me hooked.

March 4, 2010 Heights Writers

Heard some great stories this week.  I think the most amusing were the lists of 20 annoying things.  Lilly left us with an awesome cliff hanger, as usual!  Hopefully I can talk her into letting me post it here

We also have some exciting news!  Heights’ Writers is partnering with Teen Talk Radio to create a new online space… Some radio theater perhaps?  If anyone is interested in writing scripts, creating sound effects, recording and editing contact me (maggpie83@hotmail.com).  Make sure to put Heights Writers in the subject line so I don’t delete your email on accident.  Stay tuned y’all!

We collectively came up with some new prompts for the next meeting as well:

Tell Death’s story.  Was he cursed or blessed when becoming Death?

You go to sleep in 2010 and wake up in a different decade.

“GIVE ME THAT MONEY!”

The prompts from last week I forgot to post (sorry!):

Write a story including the sentence:  Her laughter broke the silence.

Write a story including the words:  Burglar, envelope, forest, and desk lamp.

List 20 things that annoy you and pick one to write about.

Happy writing to all!

February 19, 2010 Heights Writers

Heights Writers had a great meeting yesterday.  Big shout out to March who gave his story to Mikale even though he couldn’t make it to the meeting – you were there in spirit!

Everyone is moving along nicely with they’re writing and here are the new prompts for the next two weeks:

Her laughter broke the silence.

Write a story/poem/etc. including the words:  burglar, envelope, forest, and desklamp.

List 20 things that annoy you.  Pick one to write about.  (Don’t forget to bring your list!)

Good luck, writers!  As always, we’d love to see some new faces!  See you March 4th @ 4pm in the Levey Room.

 February 5, 2010 Featured Teen Writer

Here is the short story I promised from Lilly. She wrote it in February of last year, and I’m hoping that she will continue.   I want to know what Jessica confessed and why she is confessing to Tom, a boy she seems to barely know…  I want answers!

A Wasted Death

By Lilly

Jessica Lore walked down the hall getting pushed around by the people by her.  Tears trickled down her eyes.  Confessing to him was easy, taking the truth was hard.

Tom Smith stood in the classroom in complete shock.  Though he was a popular guy, never once had a girl confessed to him.  He slouched down into the nearest chair and gave out a heavy sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Kyle asked Tom, walking into the room, “I heard you sigh.”

For a moment, Tom considered telling Kyle about Jessica’s confession but then decided against.  Tom knew no one would want their confession to be told to the entire school.

“It’s nothing,” Tom said.  Kyle looked confused and turned to the window.

“Is that Jessica?”  Kyle said as he stared out the window.

“Yeah,” Tom said looking out.  Tom waved to Jessica and she waved back.  Slowly, she walked backwards off the cliff.

February 4, 2010 Heights Writers’ Group

Heights Writers are going to be featured on Teen Talk Radio in the near future and with all the material we have it seems as though our radio spot couldn’t get here soon enough.  Don’t worry, we’ll keep you posted.

New prompt:

How far would you go to save your child?

We’re also sticking with one from last week:  Write about a bucket of distaste.

Later this week I’ll be posting a story by Lilly.  Stay tuned and don’t be shy, we would love to see new faces!

Next meeting: Thursday February 18th @ 4pm

February 2, 2010 Featured Teen Writer

Hey all!  Our Heights Writers have been slaving away writing some wonderful stories.  A couple weeks ago we had a prompt involving nursery rhymes.  Mikale wrote a gripping short story with based on Little Bo Peep that she was kind enough to share with everyone.  Just wait until you read her twist on the original nursery rhyme.

Little Bo Peep

Traditional Nursery Rhyme c. 1805

Little Bo peep has lost her sheep
And doesn’t know where to find them.
Leave them alone and they’ll come home,
Bringing their tails behind them.
Little Bo peep fell fast asleep
And dreamt she heard them bleating,
But when she awoke, she found it a joke,
For they were all still fleeting.
Then up she took her little crook
Determined for to find them.
She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,
For they left their tails behind them.
It happened one day, as Bo peep did stray
Into a meadow hard by,�
There she espied their tails side by side
All hung on a tree to dry.
She heaved a sigh, and wiped her eye,
And over the hillocks went rambling,
And tried what she could,
As a shepherdess should,
To tack again each to its lambkin.

Little Bo Peep

By Mikale c. 2010

I feel like I am drowning. I feel the need to cry, but not even dry sobs will rack my body. Somebody needs to pull me up, needs to save me. Somehow they all reach out their hands for me, but not quite long enough–or maybe I’m just not reaching out my hand farther enough. The anger I once felt is no longer raging fire, so I cannot be burned by it. It is not even the cold, calculating anger that scared me, making me shrink away from its icy tendrils. No, the feelings that I feel only give a tentative thump–no, just a subtle plop–at my heart. I feel them trying to break free, but I have suppressed them too much and they are buried too deep. I feel nothing. I deserve nothing.

Yesterday, when I was supposed to be watching the, the–oh I cannot bear to say their names–something else caught my attention. I twirled my blonde hair around my fingers and carefully looked up at the distraction through my eyelashes. The distraction wiggled its eyebrows at me and I smiled at it.

I no longer remember how it’s lips felt on mine, what convinced me to go all the way around the corner just for a kiss, to leave their door unlocked and wide open.

All I remember if frantically searching for them, painfully calling each of their names:

“Johnny!

“Angela!

“Lee!”

All I remember is the soft cry escaping from my lips, hardly audible over the sound of my breaking heart.

All I remember is how my legs could no longer support my weight and the weight of what my carelessness had done to them.

All I remember are the feverish dreams with me calling the names of my darlings, my children, and almost getting to them, but them just slipping out of my reach.

Today all I see is Lee in my arms; my hair–brown then–still clinging to my head with sweat, her umbilical cord still swinging at her waist, me admiring the diamond-shaped birth mark on her forefinger.

“Take care of her. Take care of all three of your diamond children,” my mother said over me. Funny how all three of them had the same birthmark, and in the same place.

I don’t need the police’s help. I know where they are.

On the long trek to their father’s house, I picture her fluttering fingers, diamond slipping in and out of view. I can see them gracefully releasing her sweet, sweet music. Bright as day I can see them putting her precious Lola back into her case. I can see them holding onto my neck tight as her father shakes with rage as he says, “If you keep them from me–if I can’t have them–then nobody will!” I see her fingers shaking from fear and wet from my tears.

I stop abruptly. I’m at his house. At his steps. I carefully walk up the first step, trying to prepare myself for anything. I walk up the second one and step on something. It squishes beneath my cheap shoe. I swallow, take a deep breath and peek under my shoe to see what I’ve stepped on…

…to find three black diamonds.

Something in me snaps. I howl to the Sun, the moon, to the Earth. I howl and I don’t stop.

January 21, 2001  Heights Writers’ Group

Hey all!  Sorry for the delay in posts.  With the new year and coming in things have been a bit hectic.  Today’s meeting went swell!  New prompts!   

New prompts!

- Write about a bucket of distaste.

-You wake up one day with an unusual super power that seems pretty useless — until you are caught in a situation that requires that specific talent.

-  You’ve been waiting in line for days to get concert tickets to your favorite band’s upcoming show.  You’re keeping track of your experience in journal.  What does it say?

As always, you can write a short story, poem, illustration, etc. for one or all of the prompts!

Soon to come: I will be posting stories from the writers’ group writers in this space.  If you want to send me a story to post my email address is maggpie83@hotmail.com.  Please put your name and Heights Writers’ Group in the subject line, or most likely I’ll end up deleting it.

Next Meeting: Thursday, February 4, 2010 @ 4pm

December 17, 2009 Heights Writers’ Group

Hey writers!  We’ve decided to save our Eutopia stories for our next meeting, so those of you who couldn’t make it or those of you who want to join can bring them to our next meeting, December 31st.  I’m wondering, since it is New Year’s Eve, how many of you are going to be able to make it to our next meeting.  If you are planning to come, you can email me:  maggpie83@hotmail.com.  Thanks!

Anyway, here are the new prompts Mikale and I picked for the next meeting:

- Flip through a magazine and write a story around the first image you see.  Don’t forget to bring in the image with your story!

- Use the first line of any nursery rhyme (your pick) to start a story.

Do one or both and bring your work to our next meeting.  If you haven’t already, and you really want to , you can still write a Eutopia story (see instructions/definitions below).  Also, remember that your work doesn’t always have to be in story form.  Poems, songs, anything you want to create, is just as wonderful.

Keep writing and I’ll see you soon!

-Maggie-

December 3, 2009  Heights Writers’ Group

Hey all!  The Heights Teen Writer’s Group had it’s first successful meeting today… What is this writing group you ask?  Our Writer’s Group is a place to discuss your poetry, fiction, short stories, or whatever you’re currently working on.  Each meeting we will come up with prompts for short stories or poetry to share at the next meeting.  The group meets every other Thursday at 4:00.

Meeting Dates: Dec. 17 & 31, Jan 7 & 21, and Feb 4 & 18.

Topic for the next meeting (12/17) : Utopia – make up a short story or poem to describe your perfect world.  At the next meeting with will discuss the differences, downfalls, and advantages of each others worlds.

Definition:  Utopia

1. an imaginary and indefinitely remote place

2. often capitalized: a place of ideal perfection especially in laws, government, and social conditions

3. an impractical scheme for social improvement

Bring your story or poem to discuss your Utopia on Thursday December 17th at 4 pm!

September 10, 2009 Teen Read Week and Teen’s Top Ten

This year Teen Read Week 2009 will be celebrated the week of October 18-24th.  The theme is “Read Beyond Reality” and the Young Adult Library Services Association – a.k.a. YALSA – is encouraging you to read something out of this world just for fun!  Sound like fun?

Also, or maybe more so, you have a chance to give your opinion!  Vote in the Teens Top Ten for 2009.  Here you can vote on your top three book picks for 2009.  It’s like the Teen Choice Awards for books.   You have until September 18th to cast your votes!  Winners will be announced during Teen Read Week.  Click below and follow the “Vote” link to cast your votes!

August 5, 2009  Book Suggestion Please!

I need a new book to read! I just finished Sarah Dessen’s The Truth About Forever, which was great. It’s about a girl in high school whose dad passed away a year and a half before and how she’s been trying to keep her life all neat and orderly and “perfect” ever since. Obviously things have to start stirring at some point. So when she meets a totally out-of-hand and unorganized but endearing and lovable group of people, the walls start coming down. Throughout the book she’s struggling with the idea of not be perfect and it being okay. I know I deal with that on a regular basis!

August 5, 2009 Web Comics?

Does anyone have a fav web comic they’d like to introduce me to? I have a couple that I am addicted to and check on a daily basis. Just to share:

Natalie Dee and her husband Drew write super weird but silly comics that I’ve been checking since I was in high school. They’re Ohio natives! Check out their blogs too. I also really like Dinosaur Comics, Sam and Fuzzy, and Questionable Content.

www.toothpastefordinner.com

Currently Reading:(Well, just finished) The Truth About Forever (Sarah Dessen)

Quote of the Day: Of all the things I’ve lost, I miss my mind the most. (Mark Twain)

July 28, 2009  Introducing…

Actually, I’m pretty sure I’d only last three days if there were to be a Zombie Apocalypse, and that’s only because I have an inherited-accidentally-never-gave-back-to-my-friend-before-they-moved-away copy of The Zombie Survival Guide:  Complete Protection From the Living Dead (Max Brooks) on my bookshelf.  I’ve only half skimmed it.  But my roommate read it, so that should help, right? Right.  Silver bullets?  Or is that werewolves?

Aaaaanyway.  Introductions.  I’m Maggie.  I’m a new Teen Associate.  Right now you can usually find me at the Noble branch with my counterpart, Margaret, but we’ll be wandering around the branches so hopefully I’ll get to meet all of you.  Welcome to the rambling, muttering mush that is my brain!

Currently Reading:Love, Stargirl (Jerry Spinelli)

Quote of the Day:“I like an escalator because an escalator can never break, it can only become stairs.  There would never be an escalator temporarily out of order sign, only an escalator temporarily stairs.  Sorry for the convenience.”  (Mitch Hedberg)