I don't like living in the here-and-now. Life always seems boring when it's happening, you're always looking to the future.
Unless, of course, you're looking towards the past. Like a good designer, I'm not satisfied to start my own trends. Vintage thoughts are in, recalling the vintage acts of yesterday. Playing them like a movie in your mind, and already knowing the ending. It's comforting.
Like a bad designer, I don't know the difference between "off-white" and "cream".
And perhaps this is a fault of mine, living in the past and the future and not really caring what's going on right now. If I went to a psychologist they would most definitely diagnose this as a problem and probably try to give me some medication. But the truth is that I feel fine, fine as I think it is possible to feel without being some celebrity, and that's just fine with me.
It's not that I don' t have anything to live for. I do- I have lists full of goals that I have yet to fulfill. I want to become a journalist, meet a nice guy, get married, see the world, and buy a new toaster. It's just that these things seem so far away at the moment; it feels as if I should just go into hibernation for awhile and wake up when there are more opportunities.
I like to think that I'm one of those people who were always kind of weird when they were growing up--you know, the ones afraid to chew their gum for fear that someone was watching--but that I'll turn into a splediferous individual someday. In the future. Yet that all sounds too much like the "Ugly Duckling" fairytale to be true. Everyone knows that there are no handsome Prince Charmings (Well, except for Prince William, but he's a little out of my league), dwarfs do not whistle while they work, and fairytales do not exist. That's why I'm afraid I'm one of those weird people growing up who will turn into a mass murderer in the future.
Or maybe, just maybe, I will someday learn the difference between cream and offwhite and walk the balance between good and evil. Not a splendiferous individual, by any means, but a designer has to be higher on the goodness chain than a mass murderer.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 10:48 AM
Friday, February 21, 2003
Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night, realizing that you really have to pee/get a drink of water/some combination of the two, and you just force yourself to go back to bed because you don't feel like making the effort of walking to the bathroom?
Yeah. I'm a lazy bum.
I wonder how many more things in life I'd be able to accomplish if I lived in a single-level home. I'd no longer have the excuse of being too lazy to go up the stairs.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 1:58 PM
Thursday, February 20, 2003
I wore toe socks to school today. They are striped in various shades of blue, and have red polka dot grippers on the underside. They made me smile. I felt as if I had little friends sitting between each of my toes, encouraging them to keep walking.
I walked a lot today. Mostly I walked around and just kind of happily nodded at the people that passed me by while not really seeing them. Once, however, I distinctly remember pausing to take a drink from the drinking fountain. Honestly, that had to be the highlight of my day.
There is a Sesame Street sticker on my belly and I don't know how it got there. I hope it's not a fungus. I paid my dues to PBS already.
I am being forced to write a play for my English class. I've decided to write a tragicomedy, because I think those are the saddest kind. And I've been feeling kind of sad. I'd like to have my play based on a song, so if anyone knows a great lyrical song, send it my way.
Oooh, I feel dirty using this blog for homework help. And not even the smiling Bert and Ernie on my belly can make it better.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 6:23 PM
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
I am awakened every morning from my bumbling sleepwalk by the smell of burnt crumbs originating from the toaster. It's a sharp smell that makes your eyes water and your nose twitch when all you want is an English muffin.
Unless, of course, you want a waffle.
I remember when I was little my mother would wake me up in the morning and proceed to put my socks on. Those were what I struggled with, you see. My little toes had a hard time wriggling themselves in to the small elasticated parcels of material, but the rest I could handle.
And now I can not only handle my socks, but I can handle the burnt smell as well. It's amazing how much I've progressed.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 6:14 PM
Sunday, February 16, 2003
The term "musicals" never appeal to me when I'm selecting movies or plays for my viewing pleasure. Give me a comedy, a drama, but a musical? I'll pass on the two hours of people singing sappy songs.
Last night I went to see Les Miserables with my family, as my mother thought we needed some family bonding. (This suggestion was rendered useless, I argued, since we'd just be sitting in the dark and couldn't talk to one another, but I was outvoted). And surprisingly, I liked it. Maybe it's because it was about something with more substance other than who was taking who to the county fair. (I had a bad experience with Oklahoma).
Come to think of it, I rather enjoyed the Sound of Music as well. This liking was maybe influenced by the reason that it was virtually the only non-animated movie I was allowed to watch as a young child, so I felt grown-up when I saw it. And while some of the songs are pretty darn sappy, ("Sixteen going on Seventeen" comes to mind) I still find "Edelweiss" pretty.
I'm even jumping on the bandwagon and enjoying the so-called "Hollywood Musicals". Moulin Rouge was downright hilarious, and I'm looking forward to seeing Chicago.
I always knew, however, there was a specific reason that I had never seen The Music Man. When ABC aired it this evening, however, I couldn't resist the temptation to tune in.
And now I know why I was never forced to see this particular musical. It contains a song about the wonders of Gary, Indiana.
I have been to Gary, Indiana. It's nothing special. And that pretty much sums up the rest of Indiana as well, unless you're into the whole Nascar thing.
The Music Man= one sappy ass musical.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 9:16 PM