Thoughts from a book store....
- There are so many books I want to read, I always feel like I have been taken to a great buffet and been told that I can only pick one or two things. No matter what I pick, I was wonder if I made the right decisions. I always find myself picking something that I either have heard nothing about or have already decided before I walked in that I would buy if I came across it. Things that are in the middle...just seem somehow both safe and casual. Picking one of those books often seems like going to that same buffet and taking the fried chicken. Sure, I know I would probably enjoy it, but there is nothing exciting about it and it isn't my favorite food. What would be the fun in that?
- People have told me that a bookstore is a great place to meet people. Those people clearly do not go to bookstores. First of all, it is quiet. Second of all, bookstores are filled with bookish people. People who express themselves in words more so then verbals or actions. Everything is geared towards being solitary, not geared toward union. Rarely if ever have I heard spontaneous conversation. When it does come, it often seems more of a interruption then a interaction. Someone putting in their two cents about a book you have in your hand, a comment on how they wished more young men would read, someone who thinks you work at the store because you have khaki pants and a nice shirt on. I have no doubts that it is in fact in theory, it makes a lot of sense. In reality, not so much.
- Lastly, this random sampling of the Life of Dan. I go to check out and the only cashier is a somewhat attractive teenage girl with a loose fitting shirt. We exchange pleasantries, I swipe my card, she asks to see my id, you know the deal. As she bends over to grab a sack to put my books into, I look away. Call it modesty, call it general discomfort, call it not wanting to be that guy that checks out teenage girls when he is almost 30. The guy behind me is in his mid forties, balding, a paunch. He has no trouble looking. He looks enough for the both of us. He suddenly looks away and has a blush to his face. I turn back around as the young lady is sending a stern look over my shoulder. I filed it away as yet another reason I am glad I am a man, though I do not always liked to be lumped into the category of guys.
- People have told me that a bookstore is a great place to meet people. Those people clearly do not go to bookstores. First of all, it is quiet. Second of all, bookstores are filled with bookish people. People who express themselves in words more so then verbals or actions. Everything is geared towards being solitary, not geared toward union. Rarely if ever have I heard spontaneous conversation. When it does come, it often seems more of a interruption then a interaction. Someone putting in their two cents about a book you have in your hand, a comment on how they wished more young men would read, someone who thinks you work at the store because you have khaki pants and a nice shirt on. I have no doubts that it is in fact in theory, it makes a lot of sense. In reality, not so much.
- Lastly, this random sampling of the Life of Dan. I go to check out and the only cashier is a somewhat attractive teenage girl with a loose fitting shirt. We exchange pleasantries, I swipe my card, she asks to see my id, you know the deal. As she bends over to grab a sack to put my books into, I look away. Call it modesty, call it general discomfort, call it not wanting to be that guy that checks out teenage girls when he is almost 30. The guy behind me is in his mid forties, balding, a paunch. He has no trouble looking. He looks enough for the both of us. He suddenly looks away and has a blush to his face. I turn back around as the young lady is sending a stern look over my shoulder. I filed it away as yet another reason I am glad I am a man, though I do not always liked to be lumped into the category of guys.