No real reason I’ve not been blogging. I’ve been reading instead. I read an Ursula K LeGuin novel last week, The Dispossessed, and I loved it. It felt like she’d just read Atlas Shrugged and said, “I could write a way better book about individualism as a political choice than that” and then did. Now I’m reading Don DeLillo’s first novel, Americana. In my head it alternates between looking like a 21st century and the ’80s, but both of those are wrong, cause it was only written in ’71. But there aren’t that many signposts to the date inside. I mean there are, but they aren’t obviously anachronistic if you’re setting it in the ’00s.
There are a bunch of LSA 1/2 jobs coming up this month, and careful analysis has shown that I’m not likely to get any of them. There are three packages and at least three pages with more seniority than me applying. The only reason I got so close last time was because the girl with the most seniority had been on vacation and missed the posting. The last couple of days my shifts at work have just dragged. Nothing’s different. Just one of my periodic dissatisfaction arcs I guess.