December 15, 2001
Incessant Rambling
Bejesus. Eleven fifty-two. It feels like all of quarter after ten, even though two hours ago I was ready to pass out from exhaustion.
I guess that Almond Joy I ate is catching up with me.
I am an amazing girl sometimes. And I don't mean that as in, look at me, I am more than the average female (if anything, less, take a good look, kids:), but as how amazingly girlie I can be.
For instance, though I complain that I never have anything to wear, my wardrobe is beyond the capacity of my closet. Trust me. I've tried to get rid of things. But my clothes aren't having any of it. My family and I are planning on visiting the homeless shelter on Christmas Eve and taking them some of our things, and the only thing I have found that is remotely suitable to take is my old winter coat. I mean, they won't want my red seventies tuxedo shirt with ruffles. Who would?
I want it. Not to wear, mind you, but to look at and imagine that if I were a famous rockstar/journalist/actress/basketcase, I could get away with wearing that with jeans and sneakers.
Same goes for the blue one, too.
And the blue flimsy goodwill sweater and the checkered pleated school girl skirt and the black velvet lace up dance pants and the backless rainbow ho shirt and the bart simpson tee shirt.
Everything I have not worn in a measurable amount of time. If at all. And that is the most brief of lists.
Why, why do I keep these things? Don't even get me started on my shoes.
Or my costume jewelry.
Speaking of nothing relevant to this whatsoever, I am wearing the lobster boxers intended for Ryan. I cannot bring myself to give them to him now. Feeling entirely too presumptuous about it due to seeds of mother's doubt.
The symbolism to them escaped me altogther. I forgot that I always, always used to address things I wrote to Ryan with 'Ryan, my dearest lobster.' The thousand dollar question of the day is, do any of you know where I got this diluted idea? Think of a television show. Think of a deranged woman whose name starts with 'Ph' and ends with 'eobe.'
A nickel if you know. They don't call it the thousand dollar question for nothing, you know.
And for those of you in Canada, that's like two nickels!
astera at 11:52 p.m.