Posted by: Chelsea Novak | August 17, 2002

Everybody’s workin’ for the weekend…

Yep, that’s a Loverboy song. Shame to you too if you knew that. I’m here at work on a Saturday, writing a Public Service Column for the Flood Relief Fund. Can’t you tell. I spent a good part of this morning cleaning up around the apartment and I think I’ve inadvertently burned a layer of skin off my finger tips with cleaning products. Typing feels very tingly. Once I finish this article I’ll be free for the rest of the day. Like totally free. M is off to his Dad’s for the night with his Mom so they can hang and do that family thing. I know it sounds really nerdy, but I think I’m going to spend the evening cleaning the carpet (needs it SO badly) and doing laundry. I haven’t had a night to myself in a long time (freaking out in Budapest doesn’t count) so I’m looking forward to it. There’s not much to do in the city anyway as the state of emergency has been called until next Thursday. Because of this working thing this weekend Wendy and I had to back out of the spa trip to Karlovy Vary (boo). Maybe I’ll go to a movie, but I did that last night.

M and I saw “About A Boy” which was charming, but got me thinking. It’s entertaining to read or see movies made from Nick Hornby books that delve into the minds of men but I feel a little cheated. There aren’t movies out there that I can identify with. Most guys I know really connected with High Fiedelity and About A Boy I’m sure has some truth for older single men, but what do non-typical socially-adept-smart-nerd-girls like myself have? Nothing. There’s very little I identify with when watching “chick” flicks. The women invovled rarely make decisions I’d make and if they do, it’s usually for all the wrong reasons. Why is there no movie or book that addresses the issues that women like me have? The challenges of finding other people who embrace logic, who love and hate the world at the same time, who know how to put an outfit together and have something intelligent to say and who know how to laugh. I’ve always said that I don’t want to write a book, but this void is enough to make me take down some notes. I wonder daily how I ended up in a job where I write so darn much seeing as I’d rather be a publisher than a writer. Someone please write a book that’s not in the fantasy section that I’d be interested in reading, or at least write a book about being in your twenties in this time and dealing with all the issues that people my age deal with and throw in an alien or two. Just for me.



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