Character Most Like Me

There are a ton of characters I relate to. Pretty much any socially awkward, book loving character, and I’m shouting ME ME ME. I almost picked the obvious choice of Elizabeth Bennet for this. Or, there’s Jo from Little Women.

But, neither character is just quite awkward enough. Plus, they don’t know how weird it is to be a nerd in modern day society, especially one with gorgeous, extroverted younger sisters.

No, there’s only one women on my shelf that fit that profile.

Rose, from In Her Shoes by Jennifer Weiner (she only had one sister, but…you get the point).

This is one where I saw the movie before I read the book, then ran out to grab it when I found out who the author was. “Shoes always fit” has been one of mottos for a long time.

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Trust me…there are a lot more in my closet….but I don’t have fancy shelves like Rose does in the movie, so they are all just kind of thrown in a pile. Shameful.

Rose is much more driven than I am, something I envy her for, but she is still just as socially awkward. She is also super protective of her sister, even if they aren’t always on the same page. I also always really admired how, when things don’t go how she expects, she remakes herself out of the wreckage–something I had to do too.

Oh, and don’t forget the love interest, who she kind of blows off at first, but he persists and persists until she takes him seriously. (Which is pretty much what my husband did with me.)

Crap. Now I want to reread this book again too.

One Art

Holy cow it is a busy morning for me. I am the only one on the phones for my client this morning, so I am taking a quick break with my eye on the lines.

Since I’m losing my mind, I’m going to share one of my favorite poems with you…mostly (and admittedly) because I don’t have a lot of effort to spare at the moment. I first heard this on one of my favorite chick flicks “In Her Shoes.”

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.