The DayJob has a book club. We get to chose one of 3 books and then convene over dinner at a nice restaurant. I suppose that the goal at that point is to talk about the books but since I never go to the dinners I don’t really know the actualities of what occur, mostly though, I think people get drunk*.

Anyway. The memoir I chose irritated me. About half way in the writing style changed and the author wrote about something that irritated this crap out of me. Already the author wasn’t a very like-able character but this one aspect of her life bugged the crap out of me. She went on for pages explaining the whys and hows of what she’d done but it still… Irritated me. Begrudgingly I made my way through the last 100 pages of the book. Everything about the end of the book bugged the shit out of me. From that one point on, the author seemed arrogant, self absorbed, and annoying. Even at the end of the book I’m left irritated.

When I first got to that irritating passage I started to tweet about it, thought better of it, and wrote in my journal instead. I realized that what I was about to tweet would need more explaining than 140 characters. It didn’t belong on twitter or facebook. My incoherant rage directed toward an, at that point, faceless, author, didn’t belong online. It would have been far too difficult to explain.

The end point of this story is that sometimes we all need to just settle down and tell it to the page.

*Now  that I’m in my mid-30’s I have a firm rule- don’t drink with coworkers, ever.

Also please note that I'm not showing you the whole journal page, just a small macro view of one word. Mhmm. That's how it should be.