Iāve noticed that several of my journal entries latelyā¦those that I have been bothering to write, as itās come to my attention that Iām not posting much lately at allā¦have to do with my rather healthy fantasy life. When Iām not thinking about houses I seem to be off pretending to be a rock star or something, if Iām not wistfully thinking about how the acquisition on my part of the perfect pair of boots will somehow change the course of world events. Itās been pretty hard for me to concentrate on the here and now. Here and now is doing pretty well for me for the most part, so how about one of those entries where I just sort of catalog various little things for you and then you go off and have a nice weekend, okay?
Okay, well, letās see. Itās going to be Octopus Week not this weekend but the next, so thatās very exciting on all accounts. Did I tell you I got an octopus necklace a couple of weeks ago? I should take a picture of it because it is very cool, this octopus necklace. I am wearing it out tonight, as a matter of fact. Maybe I should wear it to some of the Octopus Week festivities as wellā¦or would that be too much? Too groupie-like? If I wear the octopus necklace to Octopus Week, will the bouncers (because in my mind the Seattle Aquarium has transformed into an exclusive VIP club with loud music and lots of half-naked people) have to force me to keep a three-foot distance between myself and the octopus tank? Maybe Iāll just wear it underneath my shirt and then flash it to the octopus so that it knows I love it with all my heart. By the way, those of you who knew me during college, please donāt mention my new affections to the two-toed sloth. Iām afraid it might not understand.
The reason Iām wearing the octopus necklace out tonight, thanks for asking, is because Iām going to see burlesque again. Now, you know the last two times I went to see burlesque, things got a little wonky, what with the horrible bands and the tired drag show and the fact that I do not do well when I have to be out late on a Tuesday night and still get up for work the next day, my general hardcore-ness aside. I have every hope that this time it will be different. For one, Iām going with Sundry and JB. For two, itās on a Friday night and Iām guessing there will be no terrible bands playing. For three, Iām wearing the abovementioned octopus necklace and fishnet stockings and I donāt know what kind of a world you live in, but in my world when you wear fishnet stockings and an octopus necklace then you are guaranteed to have a good night. Plus, I know one of the special guest stars of the show and itās always fun to see your friends perform. Itās also fun to go out on a Friday night and pretend you have some sort of social life, even though the world knows you really donāt because you keep writing entries about how boring you are on your online journal.
Speaking of boring, it looks like Iāll be filing my taxes online through some free thing the IRS has. I have been a TurboTax convert for the last couple of years so I think it will work out okay. Will I get a refund this year? I have no idea. I canāt even remember how much I withhold from my tax forms. I know I had to pay last year. What will happen this year? Who knows? Suspense! Mystery!
Moving on, I am happy to report that I decided to sever my relationship with Latin Dance Aerobics this week and instead elected to try something called Power Bellyā¦which was just as awful as Latin Dance Aerobics in a completely different way. Power Belly is taughtā¦if ātaughtā is the word, which Iām not totally certain it isā¦by a woman who was one of my first bellydance teachers in Seattle when I moved up from the lovely and scenic Inland Empire Valley. Some bellydance teachers are into actual instruction, you know, like technique and phrasing and things like that. Not Delilah. (Her name is Delilah.) She wants to get in the middle of a circle of dancers, some of whom have come there specifically for the advertised good sweaty bellydance-based workout, and just sort of do random shimmys that may or may not have anything to do with the beats the live drummer guy is playing. She also wants to make what can only be described as an O Face as she is shimmyingā¦I mean, where do you look? Sharon and Renee were there too and at one particularly difficult part, when we were all trying and failing to follow her and trying to avoid the O Face by staring at the floorā¦we all caught each otherās eye with this look that clearly said āOh HELL noā and there was nothing for it except to go across the street to the Buckaroo Tavern and expound for two hours the many reasons why Power Belly did not meet our needs at this time. Worth it, I think, for the conversation, but I fear I must continue my quest for a good ass-kicking workout that doesnāt make me wear awful ugly white shoes and which does not set my brain on fire from sheer annoyance.
In other annoying news, my iPod has totally died. I was getting kind of used to listening to music on the bus and in the gym and am now disappointed to find I seem to have killed the device completely. The other day I got a low battery message so I turned it off, duh, and then hooked it up to the laptop that night to recharge and update it. Andā¦nothing. Just a blank screen, no matter what I do or what button I press. I plugged it into the wall to try to recharge it that way and same thing. This is so sad. I know itās something simple and I guess Iāll just have to read the handbook or something but I was sort of hoping Iād wake up and it would just be ready the next morning. So sad, that blank screen.
Ooh, and you know what else? This is so embarrassing, but my crush on Liam Lynch has manifested itself again after a depressing year-and-a-half hiatus, ever since iTunes finally allowed to give me Fake Songs for my legal downloading pleasure. I was having dreams about him, very realistic dreams, you see. So last night I couldnāt sleep, which is rare for me since we all know how much I love bed and sleep and dreaming and bed and sleep, and I decided that the best use of my insomnia would be to do all this internet research on him, and I read all these articles and interviews and then I was crushed when I learned he had a girlfriend. Seriously. How stupid is that. Fortunately, my desultory research indicates that she is awesome, because she makes microorganism rubber stamps that are so beautiful I wish I could somehow blow up the designs into gorgeous black-and-white posters or something. That makes me feel a little better.
While I was Googling I found out that my crush wrote music for this discontinued show an old friend from high school created, like, hello, small world. I spent a long time at that site too, remembering a couple of years ago when I was home for Christmas and I saw Phil for the first time in easily ten years. He had all these Clone High stickers and he was telling us all about the show and how it was going to air soon and how awesome it was going to be and I felt bad that I didnāt have TV so I couldnāt watch it. Oh, and obviously I felt writhing, seething jealousy too. Between him and another successful friend from high school itās hard not to be jealous. Itās hard not to actively hate myself for not living up to whatever potential I had (or have, maybe) and for just accepting a normal ordinary life, like, whatever, day job, bellydance, octopus necklace, nothing too big. There’s no one to balme but me, too, that’s the part that really stings.
I think I am a little tired of just being me, latelyā¦which would, I guess, explain why I am spending a lot of time in my head. Iām doing fine in general but itās hard not to want what other people have, itās hard sometimes to accept Good Enough. I am wanting adventure and excitement lately and am pretty disappointed not to have it the way I want to. In more pessimistic moments I wonder if this will always be the case.
Just a few short paragraphs from perky recitation of minutiae to existential fretting, thatās me. I donāt know how I manage it.