Ursula

I have an alter-ego, did you know? Her name is Ursula (name courtesy of my brother, Tedson). Ursula used to be a shape-less, name-less vixen who made regular appearances but really never had any true identity. But then, one day, she took on a name and now she's an actual resident in my home.

Quite frankly, Ursula really isn't very popular. I (the better half of me, rather...the one known as Bethany) am really the only one who puts up with her, even pampers her and encourages her outrageous behaviour. Gordon puts up with her, but just barely.

Ursula never has anything but snide and snarky things to say. Ursula is not shy about letting people know when they do not meet her stringent standards of behaviour, appearance and general demeanor. Tackiness is completely unacceptable in Ursula's realm of existence, and naturally, the definition of "tacky" is entirely up to Ursula. Ursula is the QUEEN of eyerolling and blank stares. Ursula looks down on individuals who fail to match their socks, who breathe loudly or intrusively, or who slurp inappropriately from water bottles with sport caps. Ursula gets annoyed by people who carry on stupid or pointless conversations in her vicinity. Ursula also gets unreasonably enraged with individuals who are brave enough to interrupt her elevator ride to travel a single floor. Ursula has nearly uncontrollable urges to scratch them. Ursula has also been known to turn the sprinklers on when rude non-O'Neil-guests park in front of her house. This happened recently before I (Bethany, the nicer half) was able to reign her in. Ursula was very satisfied and giggled a mean little giggle at the water spots left on the offending cars. Ursula sighs and pouts and is a prolific grudge holder. Ursula thinks up rude and outrageous insults while she showers in the morning, trying to keep them in the forefront of her mind in case the opportunity arises to put them to good use.

The list of Ursula's bad traits goes on and on. Every once in a while, I let Ursula have free reign and it's such fun! But then, I have to deal with the consequences. And so, even though she is FAR more interesting than Bethany, I must make a daily commitment to keep her in line.

Nerds Anonymous.

I want to say something. You may think a little less of me, you might think I'm a little geeky, or maybe you will get the (erroneous) idea that I'm not the Life Of The Party. But I'm just going to come right out with it.

I LOVE BOOKS.

I mean I love the pages, the actual cover, the crisp paper and the unmistakable smell of fresh ink. I love the feel and the sound of the spine cracking and the pages turning. And while we're at it, I would like to take this opportunity to let you know that I am a firm believer in judging books based on their cover. Whoever said that one should not judge a book by it's cover is living in a delusional world and probably isn't very attractive.

I think you have to be a real bookie to understand my love and obsession with books. When I'm a little sad, or when I need a vacation and the jet isn't in the garage, Barnes and Noble is my place of solace. I buy books the way many people buy shoes (don't get me wrong...I have a love affair with shoes, too, but just on a different scale.) It's an obsession that Gordon doesn't understand. Once, he suggested that I sell a couple of my books to some sort of used book dealer. I looked at him like he had just suggested that I sell Barclay O'Neil to the cat pimp (work with me here.) The mere thought of parting with any of my books is a disconcerting and foreign concept to me.

Whether I have loved or hated it, a book is an investment to me. I have invested my time, my attention, my emotions, my thoughts...each book, in it's very own way, has stretched the boundaries of who I am. I sort of view books as little Tetris blocks, each working together, fitting together, contributing in a very real way to the person that I am. If you were to look inside of my soul, you would see "Ramona Quimby, Age 8", down there towards the bottom of the stack. Surrounded by Ramona would be Anne Shirley and Laura Ingalls, Mister Toad and Ralph S. Mouse. Further on up the stack, you'll find the characters from Dracula, The Metamorphosis, The Yellow Wallpaper and various other so-called Forced Reading Materials from school days. Sandwiched between these, you'll find the Ya-yas, who figure a prominent standing in my Top Tier of Favorites.

The Divine Secrets of the Ya-ya Sisterhood (and the accompanying novels) are amongst the books that had a profound impact on my life as a woman, a wife, a daughter and a sister. I make a point of re-reading them once a year, not only for the pure entertainment value, but also to remind me of the complex and beautiful way that female relationships grow and work. Every single time I finish, I am tempted to call my mama and my sissy, dance wild dances and sing "Moon River".

I store my books on bookshelves in my office and in my living room. I cram them in there, every which way they will fit, categorized according to my own personal emotions for each. I cherish them the same way that I would a whole collection of best friends and family members. They are a very real part of me and every single book on the shelf has it's own spot in my heart and in my mind.

One of these days, I'll write one of my own. Until then, though, I'll enjoy the comfort of sitting in my living room, surrounded by those old and new friends.