26 September 2014

Unashamed Horn Tooting

I kind of have a tumblr account that serves as a swirling vortex of time and space where I spend three minutes looking at pictures of cats and bookshelves and coffee mugs and emerge three hours later. It's a social media platform that I prefer to keep anti-social so that I can look at the things I want to look at and like the things I want to like without worrying about how everything is going to come across to everyone else. (Go ahead and think of a time that you didn't draw conclusions about someone from their Pinterest activity and I think you'll get what I mean.)

Well, for all my crotchety curmudgeonly tumblr outlook I found myself replying to a random account's plea for help placing a story with the book it came from. Luckily for her, it was a story from the beginning of The Goldfinch and I have not read enough of The Goldfinch for the beginning to be far from my memory. On a whim, and completely out of character for someone who will barely hazard possible answers for the questions of people she does know, I hooked a sista up. And I was right, and it was what she was looking for, and I basically saved her brain from self-destruction, and she acknowledged me for the whole tumblrsphere to see.

Now I'm sitting pretty on the threefold satisfaction of helping someone out, of being right, and of doing something out of the ordinary. Go and do those things, because even in something as small as offering a suggestion to a stranger on tumblr, they gratify.

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