Not to derail the blog, but as I'm reading Anita and Me (for my dissertation and for a conference this weekend), I came across another literary me moment as the young girl describes her daydreams:
"My mind drifted into practical overdrive, as it did with all my daydreams. It was never enough to have a vague picture, such as 'I save Donny Osmond from near death and win a medal'. I had to know what I was wearing, whether it was a fire in a top London hotel or a runaway horse in a summer meadow, what the weather was like, who was watching and how my hair looked at the moment of rescue.
It was an annoying trait, I admit, and often I got bored with the fantasy halfway through, bogged down by stylistic detail when I should really have been concentrating on the emotion and wish-fulfillment side of things." (202)
I do that so often, any one else?
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