[ things to say ]

[one of my goals in life is to have pretty hands. and my hands are getting there, im working on it. but when my hands do get there, i am going to take a typing class, cause i never learned how to type correctly. and i am going to practicepracticepractice till im great at typing. and then im going to put a mirror in front of my computer keyboard, and just watch my hands typetypetype. it will be osopretty and im excited for it.]

the date november 3 seems like it should always be on a thursday. i like thursdays. its a very stressful, but very calm day, i think. [and i think "november 3" has the right kinds of sounds to achieve that combination of things, and that is a good combination.] thursdays are also a resigned day. even if things do go wrong, its ok, cause its almost friday. things will decidedly be better tomorrow. its practically the only day that its safe to promise someone that things will be better tomorrow, and even then its not always foolproof.

[i have lots of thoughts on lots of subjects, i decided. i should probably not talk my head off so much, sorry. but ive been trying not to talk so much in person lately, so i think i have a lot to say. oops ]

people are always talking about how much they dislike emails and IM, and such things because they cant see the person and their face and such, and because they think that you cant tell emotions or whatever in them. i sortof agree that its nicer to see faces, because in person is better, and thats all there is to it, but really, i think i do better in writing. [and this is sortof sucky, because i dont like to write. well, i mean i like to have written, but the act of writing itself is mostly like pulling teeth without any pain medication and doing it yourself in your bathroom with a hammer.] but anyway, all the emotion you are going to get from me can be found in things i write, its probably the surest and clearest way to get into my head. i mean, reading anything i write is just exactly like getting a peak into the depths of my being because its all there, just like it comes out--and its just how it is on the inside. and that makes it vulnerable. and vulnerable makes it scary. regardless, today is two years of consistentish writing [on here], and thats a long time. but owell. lets have some cake.

im glad for it though, really. its a waste of time, and all of that, but it has been the one thing that has made me consistently tell stories, and think about writing, and what to say and the importance or not of punctuation and things like that. and thats osogood for me.

this week was halloween. i was a witch for the first time in my whole life, and i felt kindof bad about it. like, i didnt want to be a witch, so i decided that i was pippi longstocking dressed up as a witch. this is because i had to be at work, which was irritating and all ive been doing lately, and i had to wear black, and so i was going to be a ladybug, but then i couldnt find anything to make that happen on a slightly short notice, and slightly short notice is all the notice i give to most things, and then i decided i was going to be a cat, but alas, no cat things were to be had, either. so i found a great big, floppy witch hat, that looked as though it might have belonged to a friendly witch. it also came equipped with a set of hot pink braids that sortof stuck out, and then bought myself some hot pink fishnet tights [very sexy, let me tell you], and wore my fake emo shoes, so i looked like i was a friendly-pretend-hotpink-emo-pippi longstocking-witch. and i ate candy when i was at work too, so it wasnt all bad, i guess.

lately at work, and with my own mother, i have been realizing the importance of mothering. its an extremely important task, ive decided. its been one of those weeks where ive been running around in circles and dont know what to even do next and ive been working and writing, and the combination thereof means my room positively exploded. and this has been one of those weeks where ive called my mother 9 times a day, or at least four times, but she doesnt mind it, still. and anyway, so all of these mothers have just been talkingtalkingtalking, [because thats what girls do, and i love that osomuch--and moreover, thats what mothers do. im convinced that mothers talk more than regular women.] [also, i love my mother [and my father, but thats besides the point] but i also love my pretend mothers that come along. like my favorite mother at work always reminds me to eat dinner and to make sure i leave enough time for my schoolwork. and those women i know that i just want to be like, because they are so amazing. and i love. the women in the grocery store who are always so willing to advise on any little question i may have. it makes me really happy.] [and ive been reading mother teresa, who loved to remind people that even if a mother could forget her child, He couldnt forget us because he carved us on the palm of his hand, something like those a 2yearolds tatoos, but far more permanent.]

but anyway, i want kids, i want a lot of kids. but not right now, oooooh no. im pretty sure im not excited, at all, really, about actually being a mother [yet?] except for this: i want that universal experience desperately. i cant even imagine so many things about being a mother; they are forever telling me at work "oh, well, you probably wouldnt understand this..." and "youre mother would know what we're talking about..." and i want that experience. it would help me understand more things, i think.

yes, and i have this thing where i dont know what to say. this is why i dont like to call the dentist: i have no idea what to say to him. and it doesnt matter that i called to make an appointment, and thats all. i still dont know what to say. and one time i was walking out of this hotel we were all staying at, and the woman right outside the door was smoking. and as soon as me and my friend walked out the door, she started apologizing for smoking and telling us all about how she has tried to quit a whole lot of times, but just couldnt, and how she has this whole guilt complex about it. i felt so bad for making her feel bad, but i couldnt exactly tell her that it was fine and dandy for her to keep smoking, because i think its an unhealthy habit, and i dont support dying unnecessarily. i didnt know what to tell her. [i think i ended up telling her please not to feel guilty just because i walked out as she was smoking.]

and i dont know what to tell other people either.

i dont know how grown-ups always know what things to say. they know how to call the dentist, and how to answer the millions of questions kids ask about everything, and what to say to 2yearolds who ask "where did brother go?" [when brother is not coming back, because brother has passed away] and i dont know what to say when someone dies or loses their baby or breaks up with their boyfriend, or something. and i could probably think of something to say and write it down later, but that does no good whatsoever in the moment of need. i need to be so much more gracious. and real.

;

in theory, communism is a good idea. after all, why should you complain about being a happy little peasant? "it seems so much easier than actually dying for a cause or something."

but thats silly. we all know that communism never works for those same three reasons that i learned in economics [sin nature, no price system, and i can never remember the third one. ill think of it tomorrow]. and it pretty much doesnt work evereverever. that leaves us with about 2 options: live for real and being and then dying [which is hardhardhard but lovely], or being the oppressed poor little masses [and thats just pitiful and ridiculous,] and thats all there is to that [i think.].


currently playing: plans // deathcabforcutie

Posted 11/3/2005 6:45 PM