February 11, 2002
Be my Masochistic Valentine
My life is a structureless void. Though I do not believe that there is such a thing as a void with structure, so perhaps I am being somewhat repetitive.
I am thinking that I am never going to get hired. Ever. But you know what? I'm going to pretend not to care. Because if the delightful Moira Sullivan of the Maria Carvainis Agency decides that she likes Marian, I will be on my way to published authorhood. Which is clearly employment.
You know, I really am not a fan of Valentine's Day. Even now, when last year I was delighted to receive flowers from Ryan and this year when I can anticipate something along those lines to come hurtling out of Texas. I don't harbour the same hatred I used to have for it, but I still think it is rather superfluous. There is just something about boxes of candy in red, heart shaped boxes that I find altogether unnerving. And teddy bears clutching roses or squashed into cupid-esque garb. For some reason I am unusually embarassed to walk down the holiday aisle at Kroger, let alone actually purchase something from said aisle.
So buying candy for Ryan today was not an enjoyable experience (not in a heart shaped box, mind you). I feel like I am indulging in something ridiculous. I mean, I am generally a hopeless romantic, but this sort of scheduled festival of gross, forced affection is just not my cup of tea.
Though it is a rather good excuse to pry sentiment from his unusually callus mouth.
So maybe I just want to force affection from Ryan on my own terms. Like, with whips and chains. And chocolate syrup.
Excuse me while I chuckle wickedly.
astera at 9:39 p.m.