Sometimes, I come back through here, and I crack myself up - laughing out loud - at some of the things I have written. Then, I get embarassed that I'm laughing at my own jokes, but I figure, "Hey, there's no one around to see me." Of course, now that I'm telling you that I'm lauging at my own jokes, the cat's kind of out of the bag.
Anyway, I guess it's a good thing that I say something genuinely funny, once in a while... But is it really bad that I don't remember any of it?
Stores are designed for people who don't know how to dress themselves.
I know a good piece when I see one. I know what it looks like on a hanger, on a mannequin and on a person, and I know when it'll look good on me. I don't need you to show me what you think I should wear it with. If I want a black skirt, and I know what material and what cut, I don't want to be forced to walk through your entire store to dig for every, last black skirt that you've paired with teal, striped sweaters and lace camis under ribbon-trimmed jackets with scarves.
I want my store to look like a Cadillac showroom.
I want silver jeeps, then red jeeps, then black jeeps. Then, I want green sedans and red sedans and black sedans. Then, I want black cross-overs, blue cross-overs and gold cross-overs. Silver SUVs, red SUVs, green SUVs...
I like a good shoe store.
They give you the style - all the shoes in that style... then, all the shoes in that color. They're easily sorted by size. If I want a dressy pink heel, I go to the dressy heels and look for pink shoes in my size.
Why can you sell shoes that way, but not clothes? Easy. Because everyone wears shoes, but not everyone wears clothes. Some people wear potato sacks and track suits.
There are few things worse than cold toilet seats and few things harder than getting comfortable. I find few things sexier than black nylons. You will never find "the perfect thing" if you already have any kind of idea of what you want it to be like. I looooove chocolate, but if I eat it I'll get faaat.
There is really something about Van Halen's sound that gets me going.
I had my morning coffee today. ...And my afternoon coffee.... and my six o'clock coffee.
I can hear my watch ticking, but I don't know where it is. It is a very loud watch. And it is older than I am. I had an alarm clock once... I mean a real alarm clock -- the kind with bells on the top that you see in cartoons. That was the loudest f--ing clock. It ticked so loud that I had to keep it in my closet underneath all of my socks at night because I couldn't sleep with it ticking. That, and when it went off it pretty much stopped my heart every morning. The danger of keeping it in the closet, though, was that sometimes a sock would get stuck in between the bells, and so the mallet in the middle couldn't move to ring them in the morning. I was late to school too many times because of it, so I had to buy a new alarm clock. It's the nicest alarm clock in the world. It's shaped like Hello Kitty, and it is so soft and so gentle... It's as if Hello Kitty is sitting next to my bed petting my cheek and whispering, "Okay, it's time to get up now, dear." I bought it online from Japan, so I had to learn how to use it by trial and error. All the buttons are labeled with characters.
I'm so done.
Did you know that there are six handicap parking spaces out in front of Dick's? Six. Six handicap parking spaces outside of Dick's. So, tell me... how many handicapped people are going to be shopping at a sporting goods/athletics and outdoor sports superstore at a time? Really. I'm just curious.
I have this mean, nasty habit of staying up too late -- especially when I have to get up in the morning. Did you know I have to set an alarm to go off on my phone every night that tells me when to go to bed? It just stinks because, naturally, my body is very night owl. I think I would do well working a second or even a third shift somewhere because I am more active and more alert later on. But I will never. Because no one else does. I have sense enough to try and force myself into a more normal schedule, because I think it will help me be a more productive member of society.
Peace out.
War in.
My brother celebrated his birthday recently. I love my brother! I have some really great memories of him. And he is such a good person.. a much better person than I think I could ever be. I have bad memories, too, mostly from when we were children, and he used to tease me so horribly! But that's normal, of course. Sometimes I wish he and I could be closer. There's still time, I suppose, but we're both young now, and it would be fun to have a friendlier relationship in that context. His friends like me, and they try to include me in things from time to time -- I wonder how it would be if I were more involved in their group. They are all good people.
My very favorite memory of my brother is when we were teenagers. Sometimes on Sundays our parents would go to church early but let us sleep in. When we were awake Mom would tell us to go to the afternoon Mass. So, Johnny and I would get dressed and get in the car, and go to get bagels. And we would park the car somewhere and sit and eat bagels and talk for about an hour until church should be out. Sometimes we would go there just to get a bulletin as proof that we "went," and we would run into other kids we knew doing the same thing. Sometimes we'd talk about God, but not all the time. Even if we didn't... I never minded, and I don't think He did either, because John and I were spending good time together and bonding. ...It was nice.
I think my greatest weakness is my lack of faith. Sure, I have my own spiritual beliefs (however unorthodox) -- that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about faith in general. Faith in other people, faith in the future, faith in my own actions and decisions... If I really believed, if I really had faith, that everything was going to work out alright, then maybe I wouldn't be such a mess all the time. If I really believed in myself, then maybe I would take a chance once in a while, and it would pay off. ...But I'm too scared of the "what if's." I'm too scared of not getting what I want.. of not being happy. And I hate hate not knowing what would have been. I don't want to miss a really prize opportunity. Even if I tried something and it didn't work out, at least I would know.
But it is not my place to.
Dear Brad Pitt,
Your movie "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" was phenomenal, and you absolutely should have won the Golden Globes for at least best actor and best drama.
You know, if someone had told me ten years ago that you would be such an accomplished and talented actor, and not just a hyped, handsome face, I probably would have given them a good laugh in return. Good job. I feel a little bit the same about Leonardo DiCaprio. I, personally, do not care for him, but he's done some work to be proud of. ...Overcoming the odds of being a teeny bopper heartthrob. And Heath Ledger? I know he never wanted to be type-cast, but I still kind of always saw him that way... But look at the kind of performance he was able to produce! Unbelievable.. and incredibly sad. It's such a shame.
Thank you for not being dead.
Say 'hi' to Angelina for me. I still think it's a little weird, but it does make a lot of sense since you two are supposed to be, like, the most beautiful people in the world. I like her better than Jennifer Aniston, at any rate.
Have a great 2009.
Respectfully,
Sarah Jane.
Do you know I almost walked out of the house without a bra on today?? ...That's what kind of a week this has been. I put my jacket and my bookbag on and I was about to leave the room when I looked at the chair, and lo... there my bra lay. And I stared. I stared at it in utter horror that I had left it there, not put it on, and not. even. noticed. It's a tease, you know... Thanksgiving. Home for a couple days then thrown back into an immediate, vicious, week-long mountain of work. I have never seen my room more of a complete mine field. Every inch... floor, bed, desk, chair, nightstand, dresser, behind the door... under the rug.... in the closet..... The whole room is the monster. I'm done with my papers, but I still have the exams. I am so ready to be gone. I need to move to the next thing, but it's not really under my control.
Do you know what an awful feeling it is to close out your savings account because you have just enough money in it for rent? It's a bad feeling... because it's not something you can do again next month when you need rent. I remember the day I started my savings account! It was a happy day. I had more money than I had ever had in my life. Surplus. For the first time... in cash, and in my hands. ..That didn't last long, I guess.
I wonder what will happen to me. I wonder how I'm going to make it through the next six months when I'm already stretched so thin. Will I be able to better deal with problems after this? Will I become less stressed? by things that I know shouldn't bother me.... but do. Will I ever be happy again? ...Was I ever? I wish I knew. I wish I knew just one. thing that was going to happen to me, so I could have something to count on. Then maybe I wouldn't be so crazy now. Because I think I'm going to die soon. But if I knew that something was going to happen to me in the future, I would know... that I'm not going to die as soon as this week is over.
I haven't slept for very long... not last night, not the night before, or the night before that... not even the half hour before work. I came in early and sat on the sofa in the lobby and slept. The same with the hour before lecture this morning in the desk in the hall... but the hour before that was frantically spent in the lab finishing my data analysis.
I'm sick of going to the dentist every time, and having the hygienist tell me I need to floss more. My brushing's great... but I need to floss everyday. Well, I don't know whothehell flosses everyday. I tried. It's not like I didn't -- I try every year! -- but it's not very... conceivable. I think my gums are way better off than most of the people who go to the dentist regularly and certainly better than people who don't go as much as they should. I'm a good girl! I go to the dentist twice a year. I go to the gynecologist twice a year. I go to the gym twice a year. I don't need to floss!
And who else remembers when shampoo came in brands and scents?? How easy was it then! when you knew what brand you liked, and all you needed to do was choose if you wanted to smell like peaches or apples. It's such an ordeal buying a bottle of shampoo these days. You have to know the type of your hair, and how your hair looks, and how you want it to look, and how it feels, and how you want it to feel. You have to know how it is, and where it's been, and what you've done to it, and if it wants fries with that. It's not like it's a tween! that needs to be constantly observed and questioned and loved to make sure it's not smoking weed. As far as I know, my hair's only friends are the other hairs around it.
Not gonna lie -- I've been sorta mean to my hair, but... I think we're both better for it.
...And then there's the conditioner....
Heh, see, here's the funny thing about hair... it's a metaphor for middle school kids. ???!
Diving head first into another busy quarter. The sun's already the warm, the buds are already blooming, and the scandals are already in full swing!
Woman seeking the perfect organizational tool. I think I am going to have to construct it myself. I'm getting a little tired of the hundreds of scraps of paper with memos and notes and lists of things to get and things to do. I stuff them in my calendar with dates and times and places and clutter. In the margins of the calendar are more notes. Written in the calendar days are more lists of things to do on those days. It's not very efficient. Neither is my shoe box full of receipts... but there's nothing we can do about that.
I would like to remember things instead of remembering to set an alarm on my phone for a given day, and then forgetting about it until my phone goes off at some obscene hour.
I'm working on my résumé. I currently have... nothing. Last resort I call career services again. I don't understand how I can be so busy already. I've just gotten back.
I was sitting in bed eating the last of my Girl Scout cookies. Thin Mints, straight out of the freezer. Delicious. There is just no other way to describe it! Now, my boyfriend hates mint. Hates mint. This, I believe, and even understand. But still, I do not accept. He hates it because of the way it makes things taste that you eat after a mint. That's why I never eat anything after a mint! A mint should be the last thing you put in your mouth for that good, solid, Orbitz clean. It's the final freshness. And, oh! Thin Mints. They are the perfect combination of mint and chocolate. The two things that go together best in this world -- better than peanut butter and jelly. Perfect. Just the right amount of each.
He brushes with kids' bubblegum toothpaste.
Now, as I sit here enjoying and savoring my prize, I recall on a recent scandal. It was in this year, or the last, that a large group of people complained and made a big fuss about the Girl Scouts raising the price of their cookies -- as if it were the actual Girl Scouts' fault. Heh. Anyway, this never sat so well with me. Girl Scout cookie season only comes once a year -- and I assure you, it is my favorite time of the year. It's probably tied with Christmas! Who in the whole country could possibly bitch about a fifty cent price raise on a box of cookies -- to support a cause -- that is worth so much more than what they already cost!? Everybody else in America would gladly! pay dollars more for each box of these... these.... these.. cookies. Girl Scout cookies. They are a league unto themselves. They are tradition, and every spring we all wait, jumpy as wild animals, for some little girl to come knocking at the door, or for someone at the office tape that colorful order sheet to the kitchen counter. Don't lie to yourself. Don't deny it. What other cookie is worth its weight in gold?
I have a snapshot -- a Polaroid -- of an elephant. I collect elephants. They are my power animal. They are very big -- they have a presence -- and they are very strong, intelligent, resourceful, and for the most part mellow. But when seriously provoked or in times of necessity, they are fierce and destructive. Unstoppable.
So, I have a large elephant collection. Probably in the range of forty to fifty these days.... I have figures, jewelry, novelties (erasers, watering cans, candles, just a whole grouping of less typical things), I have art work, and Christmas ornaments. Lots of things. And someday, when I have my own house, I will have elephants all around me! In the living room, the bathroom, the bedroom, the dinning room! Probably even in the kitchen. And somewhere in all of that... there will be a little, dirty Polaroid picture of an elephant.
An elephant from a carnival or a circus of some sort... with two people on in -- a mother and her little son. I found it in a parking lot. I found a memory from somebody else's life. A snapshot of a moment in their life that they may have cherished, or loved, or thought was something very fun and special. But then their memory got blown out of the car door or window, or it flew out of a book.. maybe fell out of a purse. And, well, maybe they don't remember it anymore. Because they don't have that photograph to remember it by. But it's not a memory that goes un-cherished. I love that picture. Two, happy mother and son, at a carnival got to ride the elephant and get their picture taken. I put it up at my desk as if it were my own memory. Maybe someday I'll even have my own picture of me on an elephant to put next to it.
I love having those little peaks, those snapshots into other people's lives every now and then. It gives me perspective on the universe. I think it's the same reason why I like garage sales. I find it especially funny when I find something at a garage sale that matches something I've had in my house. Usually it's a dish pattern on a plate or a bowl, sometimes it's the same cookie can... I love knowing that these things that are so familiar to me in my childhood were so familiar to someone else. Once at a garage sale, (and this may be my greatest regret!), I saw a small framed photograph of a close-up of about four or five elephant asses crowded at a watering hole. I didn't have any money, but I commented on it, and the lady laughed. I told her about my collection, and she said, "Yeah, I love that picture. I was hoping somebody would come along and think it was funny too." I didn't go back to get it. I really would have liked to have it, though. I would hang it in the bathroom.
Ideally, I think it would have been nice to have gotten some work done in the four hours I've been sitting here trying to learn how to sleep with my eyes open. ...As creepy as I think that is, there are too many people around the office for me to get away with napping under the desk. God willing, I'll have all this done by tomorrow afternoon. I disapprove of how auxiliary things are interminably put-off as new work, with sooner deadlines, arises. Things like building a résumé and ordering new contacts and researching for long-term projects and filling out W-2 forms... and sometimes sleeping or eating.... these things are on hiatus. Permanently?
...That one kid owes me money.
I can't wait till spring.
My grandmother used to say, "Don't wish your life away!" but in my opinion, it makes things go faster. Which we both acknowledge is exactly the point. We just view it differently. I think it would be to my benefit to pass through some parts of life more quickly than others.
Let's go to Virginia Beach. I think it would be wonderful! A change of scenery... a break. It would be warmer. Pleasant. We would have fun. It wouldn't be warm enough to swim, but we could go out to the bars, maybe see a movie... I don't know what we would do, but I know it's what we need. We just need to get out of these dark, moldy basements. I would very much like to take some leave from the war against ants. I've stayed on the Front too long. ...And how I now hate the ants.
I was recently in conversation with a friend, and I noted how disappointed I was that I no longer had any desire to rule the world. I said that it was the only thing I was suited for.
...I wasn't lying.
It was the only thing I was suited for, and now I'm not suited for anything...
That's what I said. And I still believe it. There was a time when I was the mafia, and the C.E.O. and the hero, and the sidekick. I was very powerful once... but I am no longer these things. Now, I don't know what to do with myself. It was easy when I was incredible. I could have done anything. But I lack the same will I used to have. I can still do anything, but I can't do it for myself anymore. I need someone to tell me to do it, and then I will do it for them. I don't know what I want for myself anymore. And once, when it was very clear to me, I knew everything. I had my life planned out to the most miniscule details. But I don't care anymore. I want a house someday, and a family. I want a job somewhere, and a paycheck. I want a résumé and a pair of cowboy boots. I want the time to soak my infected earring in saline solution... because it really hurts, but I have to attend to the more immediate things that keep coming without any breaks. But again with the hiatus.
I think I miss my phone that has the button that pauses time. That can come in handy, you know.
