I've been stressing a bit about the future of newspapers.
Not, like, end-of-the-world stressing, or anything. I mean, democracy needs newspapers. (No seriously, stop laughing. You! Go pick up a paper! Get your hands dirty!)
But a friend of mine keeps asking me what my back-up plan is. And I keep making stuff up. Stewardess? That'll include lots of travel. Or, Official Lost Fan? I think that involves spending lots of time in Hawaii and stalking the actors and actresses who comprise Lost's cast. There has to be money in hanging out with Naveen Andrews.
Okay, okay. Time to get serious.
My backup plan is.... *drum roll*.... to become the next Margaret Atwood.
You're laughing again, aren't you?
But I've got it all planned out. See, I have a Canadian history minor. But I'll go back to school and get my Master's and then I'll do lots of fascinating research, and then I'll write a book nearly as good as Alias Grace.
It probably won't be quite as good, because I am not as brilliant as this:
"As one season's crop of girls proceeds into engagement and marriage, younger ones keep sprouting up, like tulips in May. They are now so young in relation to Simon that he has trouble conversing with them; it's like talking to a basketful of kittens.
"But his mother has always confused youth with malleability." (p. 106)
"You may think a bed is a peaceful thing, Sir, and to you it may mean rest and comfort and a good night's sleep. But it isn't so for everyone; and there are many dangerous things that may take place in a bed. It is where we are born, and it is our first peril in life; and it is where the women give birth, which is often their last. And it is where the act takes place between men and women that I will not mention to you, Sir, but I suppose you know what it is; and some call it love, and others despair, or else merely an indignity which they must suffer through. And finally beds are what we sleep in, and where we dream, and often where we die." (p. 192)
It's a great plan, no? I just have to work on being brilliant and curling my hair. Ooh, and being witty. I definitely must increase my witty-factor.