☘Misericordia☘ ⚡ϟ⚡⛈⚡☁ ❇️❤❣'s Reviews > Attachments

A double entendre title: we get to know not only just about attachments as in letters/msgs but also about attachments as in how people work together, how the build up their feelings towards each other and themselves and how they get over unhealthy attachments (as in when life at home is a teensy wheensy tad dysfunctional). How they find each other and maybe, maybe, if they are really lucky and the stars bless them, they stay that way, happily ever after.

Here we observe some loner IT guy and learn how he got that way. We observe him reading certain letters (at work, for work, for getting into life finally which he needs!) and obtaining from this practice almost therapeutic experience.

I've always said that writing therapy is an effective one. What I rarely say is that reading therapy could another important facet of getting well. Well, if one reads the right material, of course. For everyone that would be a different material, BTW. Here go all the people who turn up their noses at, I dunno, the light-hearted type of lit. For Lincoln, his catharctic material came in the form of sneaky reading of corporate messenger material. Huh. Who would've guessed that.

I really loved how tenderly the author weaned Lincoln from his self-imposed isolation. A much more profound novel than expected. An insightful, well thought out one. It's insanely engrossing, and I haven't the slightest idea why it's so immensely comforting.

We see how some parents go to become overprotective, ruining their children lives along the way, while doing good, only good and nothing but the good. And the lives? They got that way on their own! It's so frigging nice to get to see kids who lived got out!

Q:
“It’s not the music,” he said. “It’s that, well, you came here to meet somebody, right? To meet a guy?”
“Right.”
“To maybe meet the guy, right?”
She looked down at her drink. “Right.”
“Well, when you think about that guy—who, by the way, we both know isn’t me—when you think
about meeting him, do you think about meeting him in a place like this? In a place this ugly? This loud? Do you want him to smell like Jägermeister and cigarettes? Do you want your first dance to be to a song about strippers?”
She looked around the bar and shrugged again. “Maybe.”
“Maybe? No, of course you don’t.” (c) Can't help admitting this is epic)
Q:
Given: This is not my first pregnancy scare. I will acknowledge that thinking I’m pregnant is practically a part of my monthly premenstrual regimen. (c)
Q:
<> I think I’m pregnant.
<> What? Why do you think you’re pregnant?
<> I had three drinks last Saturday.
<> I think we need to have a little talk about the birds and the bees. That’s not
exactly how it happens.
<> Whenever I have too much to drink, I start to feel pregnant. (c)
Q:
<> ... Last night, I got a call from my little sister. She’s getting married.
<> Doesn’t her husband mind? (c)
Q:
I think I want the wild-haired music man. The guy who wakes you up at 2 a.m. to read you the poem he just wrote on your stomach. I want the boy with kaleidoscope eyes. (c)
Q:
Lincoln never would have applied for this job if the classified ad had said, “Wanted: someone to read other people’s e-mail. Swing shift.”
The Courier ad had said, “Full-time opportunity for Internet security officer. $40K+ Health, dental.”(c)
Q: The worst thing about the Internet, as far as Greg’s bosses were concerned, was that it was now
impossible to distinguish a roomful of people working diligently from a roomful of people taking the What-Kind-of-Dog-Am-I? online personality quiz. (c)
Q:
An especially filthy-minded person (maybe Greg) had defined the program’s mail filters. There was a whole list of red flags: nasty words, racial slurs, supervisors’ names, words like “secret” and
“classified.”
That last one, “classified,” beached the entire network during WebFence’s first hour by flagging and storing each and every e-mail sent to or from the Classified Advertising department.
The software also flagged large attachments, suspiciously long messages, suspiciously frequent
messages…. (c)
Q:
You don’t have enough work, I know. I don’t care. Do the crossword. Learn a foreign language. We had a gal who used to crochet … Use that time to read What Color Is Your Parachute? Start working on your five-year plan.(c)
Q:
Knowing someone had read an e-mail you’d written about whether someone was reading your e-mail? If you were an excessively paranoid person, it could make you wonder whether all the other things you were worried about were also true. It might make you think, “Maybe they are all out to get me.”(c)
Q:
“If you don’t get a date,” Eve kept threatening, “I’m going to start fixing you up with nice, Lutheran girls. Hard-core Lutherans. Missouri Synod.” (c)
Q:
“Oh, yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone.” (c)
Q:
And by the time Chris gets around to asking you, I’ll bet everyone will get married in silver jumpsuits. (c)
Q:
I am so ready for new people... In two days, I’m going to be in a place where I can walk around without recognizing a single face. Every person will be brandnew. Just, like, fresh and full of potential. Nothing but potential. I won’t know any of their stories. Nobody will be on my last nerve. (c)
Q:
“Mom, do you find Tom Cruise attractive?”
His mother set down her chisel. ... “Honey, do you find Tom Cruise attractive?” (c)
Q:
“Pithy,” that’s what I would call my band.
I would call your band “Pithetic.” (c)
Q:
Lincoln didn’t get why a hospital needed a marketing department; who did it market to, sick people? (c)
Q:
“Where are the speakers?” Lincoln shouted. “Are they in the seats?”
“Hell, yes. Fucking awesome, right? It’s like having Axl Rose in your asshole.” (c) That was imagery I didn't need.
Q:
It was terrible music to dance to; all you could really do was nod and hunch to the music. The girls all looked like they were listening to the same sad story. “Yes, yes, yes, that’s awful. Yes, yes, yes.” LOL!
Q:
Strangely, he wasn’t nervous. This place and this girl were so far outside his everyday life, they didn’t seem quite real... She was pretty …probably. In this green and black light, she looked like a week-old bruise. Everyone did. (c)
Q:
“Why are you looking at me like that?”... “Would you really rather hear that I’d spent the night having premarital sex with a girl I’d just met at The Steel Guitar?” (c)
Q:
LINCOLN WAS NEVER going to send Jennifer Scribner-Snyder and Beth Fremont a warning... He liked how they teased each other and looked out for each other. He wished that he had a friend at work he could talk to like that. (c)
Q:
... my mother has a way of spinning those facts into a bad thing. Her take is that I’m just a late
bloomer—that I’m taking forever to ruin my life, and she’s running out of patience. (c)
Q:
It was a viper pit. A drunken viper pit. (c)
Q:
<> I think I’ve figured out why we weren’t friends in college. You were kind of
scary.
<> Not scary. Single-minded.
<> Scarily single-minded.
<> I was focused. I knew what I wanted in life. (c)
Q:
I’m glad you finally told me all this. I hated feeling like there was this major part of your life that we couldn’t talk about.
That said, I don’t think you ever have to worry about me running away with or making a drunken pass at Chris. He’d make me insane. (c)
Q:
<> I thought you stole his fingernail clippers …
<> I did. He has new ones. I’m not sure what bothers me more …the constant
clip-clip noises or knowing that his cubicle is completely contaminated by tiny fingernail slivers.
<> If we ever need any of his DNA for a paternity test or a voodoo spell, we’ll
know where to look.
<> If we ever need any of Tony’s DNA for a paternity test, one of us deserves to
be pushed off a cliff. (c)
Q:
Does this mean you’re softening on the baby issue?
I think it means I’m softening on the sanity issue. I’m viewing this as a dysfunctional appendage to my general psychosis about babies. I still dread getting pregnant. But now I’m buying clothes for the child I’m terrified to have, and guess what, it’s a girl.
Q:
“Everything has been a disaster since I decided my life as it was wasn’t good enough.”(c)
Q:
Just assume that my response to your next 12 statements is, “Say what?” (c)
Q:
I like to work late because I don’t like to work early—and I have to work sometime. If I get here first thing in the morning, I feel like I have to iron my clothes. But by 2 o’clock, nobody cares. And by 7, nobody’s here. (Well, except copy editors, and they only half count.) Besides, it’s kind of cool, being here at night. It’s like being in the mall after it closes. Or at school on a Saturday. Plus, sometimes I legitimately have to work late. Like, if I have to write a review on opening night or something. (c)
Q:
<> Take it back. You didn’t follow him home.
<> I tried. I lost him on the freeway.
<> That’s something a scary person would do.
<> Really? It felt more nosy than scary.
<> How did you lose him? Was he driving evasively? (c)
Q:
“Well … ,” she said, “I just got off the phone with a woman named Doris.”
Lincoln quickly looked up from the floor. His mother was already looking down at him like she’d just confronted him with damning criminal evidence. (c)
Q:
Maybe I’ll start talking to my eggs. Pep talks. Like William Wallace’s speech in Braveheart. (c) LOL!
Q:
“I’m sort of …coming off a bad relationship.”
“When did it end?”
“Slightly before it started,” (c)
Q:
I feel like I kicked one of my own kidneys out of the apartment. (c)
Q:
<>... I don’t deserve a baby.
<> Nobody deserves a baby.
<> I feel like we should be having this conversation over a bottle of Blue Nun.
<> My bad. I thought we were.
<> The idea that you’re hard to love is ludicrous. (c)
Q:
There are moments when you can’t believe something wonderful is happening. And there are
moments when your entire consciousness is filled with knowing absolutely that something wonderful is happening. (c)
Q:
She was throwing stars at him. It was hard to listen. It was hard to look at her. He still felt like he was stealing something. (c)
Q:
“A girl who never got tired of her favorite movies,” he said softly. “Who saved dresses like ticket stubs. Who could get high on the weather …
“I pictured a girl who made every moment, everything she touched, and everyone around her feel lighter and sweeter.
“I pictured you,” he said. “I just didn’t know what you looked like.
“And then, when I did know what you looked like, you looked like the girl who was all those things.
You looked like the girl I loved.” (c)
Q: I didn’t know it could be like this... I didn’t know love could leave the lights on all the time. (c)
Q:
“I didn’t know someone could love me like this,” she said. “Could love me and love me and love me without …needing space.”...
“There’s no air in space,” he said.