I don't keep a copy of "Catcher in the Rye" in my pocket. I've read it once. I liked it. I haven't felt the need to read it again. I related to him the way everyone does, the way everyone relates to the characters in the Breakfast Club. We are all of us brains, nerds, jocks, princesses, criminals, and basketcases ... even though we all wish we were just Judd Nelson. Such is the beauty of the malleable teenage identity; we all identify to its labels, whether we want to or not.

No, but, Holden? Buddy, you're right. The phonies are everywhere. I just want to fucking scream at everyone to stop being so goddamn pleasant. It amazes me how much people can talk without saying a damn thing. More than that, it amazes me how people can look at you, smile with their lips, and manage to utter something so passive-aggressively opposite to what their body language conveys that you feel like they've spat in your face.

OK, I'm an asshole. I freely admit to being "pleasant" much of the time. I'm polite. I sometimes play that role. I try to throw in a sprinkling of my own personality when doing so, and I am not manipulative. I'm no saint, mind you. I've definitely tried to bend people to do my bidding, but I just don't have the stomach for it. I'm a horrid liar, (not that one has to be a liar to make people do their bidding ... I'm just not charming like that,) and aside from that, I find that life is more interesting if you flatten people with unexpected frankness.

Holden, if you can't handle the abundant artifice in your fancy whitey schools and your Rockefeller Centers, you won't last a second in corporate America. Better become a janitor, old chum.

In case you're wondering, no, my mood hasn't much improved since last night. Add a nice dose of "bitchy" to yesterday's "crazy," and you've got Kelly.

Right. I went to a Board Meeting today, as I do every month. It's in my job description that I attend the meetings, take notes, and compose the minutes. Not a problem, normally. It can be really interesting, especially from an anthropological point of view. There are many Board Members who pull their weight, who know their shit, who are way savvier than I could ever be. Then there are the well-meaning philanthropists, who do nothing, donate nothing, know nothing, and are just kept around for reasons of loyalty, sentimentality, and politics. It's pretty easy to spot the difference; unfortunately, the stupider group is far more vocal. The smart ones usually keep their mouths shut and roll their eyes.

Me? I take notes and doodle. Today I did far more of the latter than the former. My legal pad is littered with what look like crack-addled R. Crumb versions of M.C. Escher designs, and wise-assed comments about Board Members and what they say. I didn't even realize I was doing it until I looked down at my notes after one of the smarter Board Members said, "How about field spots," and saw that I had written: "Holy crap. I swear to God, I though she said 'How does that feel, sluts?'"

Oh, I want to kick shit.

OK, most afternoons, a woman from work, Juana, very kindly gives me a ride to the subway so I don't have to wait for the bus. She is perhaps the sweetest woman ever invented, but a good percentage of the time, I absolutely hate talking to her. I have nothing to say, and neither does she, really, but that doesn't stop her from talking. It's awkward and boring and a little frightening. She's so nice, and I'd be a giant hypocrite if I claimed to deride niceness, she can be really funny, and she's so inhumanly demure I sometimes marvel at her, but much of the time she makes my skin crawl. I don't know why, and it makes me feel terrible.

So, I hate to cut this shortish, but I have to bust out of here so I can get on the bus before Juana asks me if I want a ride. It's just awful, but I can't take it today. I'd rather lean my head against the window of the bus and be quiet.

I'm sorry if this makes me sound like an asshole with a superiority complex. I have this overwhelming urge to re-read "Catcher in the Rye."

Nah. I'll re-read "A Little Princess" for the umpteenth time. It's far more comforting.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

One-Armed Paper Hanger Earns her Wings - 07.29.05

Sugar & Lemon - 07.28.05

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BUY JEN'S BOOK! BUY IT! DO IT!

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BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

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