I am much happier if I am taking a dance class. There are a lot of things I don't like about post-graduate life, but not having easy access to physical education programs is a big one.
My friend is taking a hip hop class, and I am filled with horrible dance lust at just the thought.
I had a really horrible day at work yesterday, and while I don't want to go into details, I spent the morning sobbing at my desk. The good news is that my boss has got my back.
Ah, but isn't work stuff so boring? Hard to believe I've only been here slightly over a month, though.
A friend from Portland OR showed up on my doorstep last night with no advance warning. And I had the gall to complain that my life had become boring.
I've realized that I'm very good at snapping into a mothering mood (when there's mothering desired, of course). My friend Jessie is better at it - but I guess I learned from the best.
I think I hadn't been happy with the way my life was going, but things have picked up for the better. I took a stand against the mice in my apartment and caulked shut all the holes, put out poison, and locked all my food into tupperware containers. I've been eating well, engaging in social activities (like seeing Sergio Leone movies on a big screen!), had a dinner with Cheng, etc. I'm relatively productive at work. I've forgotten how much I enjoy fall - except my skirts are hilariously (for everyone else) statickey on the way home.
Today I bought dahlias for myself. I had a mopey night on Tuesday (I dropped a bottle of jalapenos) but now I'm in such high spirits.
I really enjoy my walk to and from work. I squint into the sun both ways, and walk almost always along pedestrian paths. The best part is the people watching, which is highly entertaining. Penn is full of old man professors with whiskers coming out of their ears, or perhaps also wearing hats.
I usually walk to work with Queen just blasting from my headphones. It makes me feel real cool.
Lately I have been overcome with an inexplicable desire to chronicle my life from childhood to present. The problem being, of course, who on earth would want to read about the minutia of my sixth grade experience? It's probably a catch-22 - if there were someone who really wanted to read about the gory details of my 11th grade prom, chances are I probably don't want that person reading about my 11th grade prom.
It's funny - I don't usually like reading biographies of dead people, but I like hearing about how people describe the arcs of their lives. I'm always happy to hear about bizarre jobs, or strange twists and surprises. But hand me Ben Franklin's biographies and I'm out cold. I just can't read so much popular non fiction. I just pass out.
The other thing is that I've been thinking a lot about highschool, and how my life was then. In some ways, I feel like right now is very similar to that, only I'm much more alone. I remember an overarching sense of loneliness and isolation in highschool, even by the end when I had some good friends.
Now of course I'm on much better terms with my family and I'm not a social pariah. But I still spend a lot of time alone, I listen to a lot of music, I roll around on my bed and read dirty books or sophistimacated novels.
I have this pattern for a Turkish coat - it's like a huge, floor length, silk, quilted coat. It's kind of kimono shaped, to give you an idea of the cut. It's supposed to have contrasting patterns and a special kind of quilting. It'd be one of those monster life projects that would probably take a large investment of time and money.
I love the idea of the coat. I think it could potentially be a one-of-a-kind, colorful, fanciful, and warm garment. But in practice, I'm worried about the following things: a) that I could never find printed silks beautiful enough to make it with and b) that the finished product would look really goofy on me.
While I like the idea of being wrapped head to toe in brilliantly colored silks, it has a lot of potential for looking ridiculous.
So, anyway, onto simpler projects: placemats for newlyweds.
2004-09-22, we all love to live beside the seaside
before / after
archives / website / hello book / diaryland