Last night I dreamed that I was lying on the floor of our local independent bookstore wrapped in a sleeping bag. Beside me was a shelf of books that had mine on it. I was trying to sleep, but kept reaching up to check my book, just the cover.

Interpretations, anyone?

I’ve just spent a sleepy and tired day doing … next to nothing. I suppose there is clean laundry, and that’s something. And fresh chicken stock. But, yeah, that’s it. Lots on my mind, but it’s all too scattered to amount to action.

Today is the International Day of the Girl. I’m thinking about the girl shot in the head in Pakistan because she attended school and became a public voice by blogging about it: her writing leaves behind a permanent record of her experience, like Anne Frank’s did. (Though there is still hope, apparently, that she might survive the shooting.) Malala. I don’t know what else to say about this because it is too sad, knowing that all over the world girls are treated differently because they are girls. Some beliefs are just plain wrong. I am not a person eager to split the world into right and wrong, but this is wrong.

In what small way could I mark today, for girls everywhere?