On Books, Record Stores, and Baseball Caps.

I got an early start this morning when my alarm blared into my face at 7:00 am. "Why in the WORLD is it set this early?" I asked myself, and it was only after I had hit the snooze alarm one too many times that I remembered I was going to vote. I leapt out of bed, threw on some clothes, brushed my teeth, and jumped into the car with my room mate Stacy. The cool wind tugged my yellow scarf around on my neck, and it felt good to be awake. After picking up two more friends, our full car chugged towards the coliseum. We waited in line for a little while, watching the basketball team practice on the courts down below, and then it was time. I walked up to the booth, slid my voter card in, and read the simple instructions. After I was done, I was a bit disappointed at how anticlimactic it was, but my friends and I had done our duty to the nation. It was time for breakfast. 

I got back to the apartment and rewarded my citizenship with a Reese's cup, and instead of being productive, flipped on the TV. I watched 27 Dresses with Stacy, and then decided continue my celebration and skip my only class for the day. [So far I have been over rewarded for voting, I think.] However, the guilt of laying around weighed upon me, and I decided to be productive. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out my speech topic: The Importance of Local Record Stores vs. Online Music Shopping. Finally, a speech topic I am passionate about. Daniel had given me the idea a few days before, and now it was time to do some research. I rifled through the pile of Paste music magazines on our coffee table, and deciding that my choices were unsatisfactory, I slipped on some sandals, grabbed a baseball cap and threw it on backwards, and was out the door. 

I always love going to Barnes and Nobel. Granted, the one we have here in Starkville isn't very big, but any semi-large collection of books excites me. I made a beeline towards the magazine section, and picked out three that I wanted to buy. SPIN: They were flashy, with a picture of MGMT glancing knowingly at me, it was hard to resist. PASTE: "The Next David Bowie". The man was wearing makeup-I had to know. FILTER: It just looked plain cool. I had never heard of it before, but just the setup of the magazine was incredibly hard to resist. Indie magazines rather have the same effect on me as I would imagine that cocaine would. I just can't stop buying them. However, it costs to be cool. Five to six dollars each, actually. I tried to convince myself that I needed a large selection to refer to for my speech, but then begrudgingly put back two and walked away with the Paste. What can I say? I'm loyal. 

I was going to just pay for it and walk out, really, I was. The setup of this store is against me though. The magazine rack is all the way across the store from the cash registers, meaning that I have to walk past Southern Literature, Poetry, Classics, and Fiction before I get to pay for my lonely little Paste. I tried to resist the gravitational pull towards the classics table as I walked by, but had no strength left after the ordeal at the magazine rack. Charlotte Bronte. T.S. Elliot. Charles Dickens. Jane Austen. Rudyard Kipling. Mark Twain. Oscar Wilde. They called my name....I picked up at least five books and held them in my arms at once, caressing their new, crisp pages with my hands. I love new books. I love the white, uncrumpled pages that haven't yet been loved. It's a new start. Unfortunately, I only had enough money for one new start today though, so I put all the books down except for the one with the haunting pen and ink sketch of a little girl on the front. Lewis Carroll prevailed this time. I can't wait to read it. 

Now I'm back at my apartment, and my motivation to be productive has mysteriously left without a trace. Now I just want to read my new Paste. Se La Vi.