Original Thoughts...

Apparently I have no original thoughts...or at least I can't think up something that someone else hasn't already thought of. Someone else already snagged my title for their blog, or should I say I tried to snag someone elses title? Obviously wasn't successful. The agony of thinking up a title then the "D'oh!"that someone already has it. What a waste of brain power.

I have two jobs. The primary one is for money, to live on. The second one is to get access to all those books that the library won't carry. Hence, the title of the blog. Like so many others before me, I start this blog with a theme in mind, to write about all those books that the library won't even consider. Though I have to say that since I started working at the bookstore, I have yet to have found a book that I couldn't put down. Okay, the newest Elizabeth Lowell was good (The Wrong Hostage) but it wasn't one that pops into my mind as a recommendation.

This is my second time working in a bookstore. The first time was at a mega-bookstore where they preferred to keep me chained in Children's as no one else was willing to work in there. The store I am working in now is so small that I wouldn't be surprised if 4 of them could fit in just the Children's section of the mega-store. And I rarely see children now. Go figure.

But as with the mega-huge bookstore, each store has its characters. Book stores are havens for the homeless, places to take a snooze in a soft leather chair, an interlude before the movie starts or, in my case, a place of addiction. I am addicted to reading, and working in a bookstore is like a crackhead working as a drug runner. Addictions breed funny (read:weird) people and I am allowed to say that as I am one of them. Every day brings in a new and strange customer that I tally up and record for future amusement. Some are weird and then some are just plain scary, but they are all characters.

The most recent character was a man who happened to be looking at my chest, as men are wont to do and asked me if I had a heart attack? He was referring to my scar from when I had heart surgery when I was 5 years old. I only get this question from men. Women don't notice my scar. Odd, isn't it? Then I had to explain the surgery; something I don't normally think to bring up with my friends much less with total strangers. Will he realize, ever, that his question tells me exactly where he was looking?