sliding doors.

last night before personal training i had an hour to kill. my first inclination was to go to strand, but for whatever reason i decided against it and headed to barnes & noble instead. 

walk in and there is a huge sign for a candace bushnell reading. as much "literature" as i read, chick lit books make for a good mental vacation. i've seen every episode of sex & the city multiple times, even though i'm not one of those girls who came to ny thinking life would be anything like the tv show. 

realize that the reading is at 7 pm. my watch reads 7:03. go up to the fourth floor where i've seen douglas coupland read. a very different crowd and experience awaits. 

stand behind the pseudo-fashionistas, gay fashion industry dudes, couples where the guy is clearly not psyched to be there and the nyu writing students scribbling away in notebooks. get more than a few quizzical looks since my boxing gloves are jutting out of my skull tote bag. at least my purse is marc jacobs...

candace is very thin, very well dressed, well spoken, poised. she is funnier than i expected. seems more grounded than most manhattan social types. contrasts her experiences in CT with those in ny. talks about how her parents wanted her to be a lawyer, that some days she thinks she should've become one. 

the reason i got out of "fashion" is still as valid today as the day i started searching for a 9-5. most of those people haven't read a real book since college, don't really put much thought into anything more than what the styles are next season and wouldn't know madeleine albright from margaret thatcher. sweeping generalization, i know. but during years spent in that industry i was only proved wrong a handful of times...

left reading to head to boxing. (the most un-glamorous workout besides maybe wrestling pigs.) extra long session. 

woke up this morning feeling as if i'd been sleeping in the bottom of the ball pit at chuck e. cheese. with 50-100 kids bouncing on my body while i slept. guess that means it is working?