(This was from yesterday. Ran out of time.)
I'm pathetic. Today I have ate (eaten?) the following:
-leftover mess of trail mix in crushed bag at bottom of neglected pocket in my bag
-two faux York Peppermint Patties (small)
-the rest of my yogurt covered raisins from Colorado that Jessica deemed "nasty" and Grandma said you really couldn't eat more than one of (and proceeded to ask for one more, a few minutes later)
That's all. Good thing for coffee and it's appetite-suppressing effects.
It's Friday. It's time for writer's group, aka English adjuncts discuss poetry and Arwen INHALES a gyro under the glowing light of Pabst Blue Ribbon signs.
I need it. All of the above. Food. Poetry. Light. The past few days have been about purging:
Success, but still - it's just getting rid of stuff. I had to write a lil' (bad) essay about how busying myself with external things should not be an excuse to avoid the internal.
K fine. Here's one of my internal activities that will lead to more external work but not of the above-purging variety. Perhaps it will lead to catharsis. (...I just need to shut up right now, because obviously my brain is addled without sustenance.) (When have I ever said "I talk too much", and it has actually led me to stop talking? That's right - never.)
Theatre. Like poetry, it's been seeking me out even as I've been trying to avoid it. There's more to all that but I don't feel like going into it just now. Jen talks a good bit about synchronicity, though, and I can't help but feel like there's some of that going on. As to what it means, I really don't know.
But do I need to know?
DO I?
Maybe not just now.
I know that my hair, which is very long, is so much more cooperative when, well, a day old. A day dirty. Though it's not really dirty at a day... dirty. Whatever. :) It looks good (and 80's) when semi-wet, and then it gets annoying. I don't like to spend a lot of time on my hair. I don't even like the time I just spent typing out that I don't like to spend a lot of time on my hair.
My hair got annoying mid-day so I pinned and braided it and here I am doing my schoolmarm spinster impression.
Well. Bad fresh hair or not, it couldn't really get my outfit down. Couldn't break its stride. Crazy blazer, from what era I don't know, with a water-colory print and lace lapels (and a matching skirt I don't quite fit in just now): $6. Black sequin collar because sometimes I just don't want to deal with policing my cleavage: $12. White pumps (which I discovered halfway through the day needing to have the bottom-heel-protector-thingie - it has a name, what is it? - replaced): $3. And my blue leather coat with white fur, not pictured: $25. It was a chilly day, and a long one (though good), and the fur was my pillow at a point, and the leather a comforting squeaky presence.