For once I had a productive week-end. I bought a pair of jeans (only $10.99 because the bottom of the right leg has a slight discoloration) and a new pair of Vans. The shoes look a lot like my retired ones, except they’re missing the white stripe and they have red-orange suns embroidered on the heels. They didn’t have the cheaper ones in my size – goddamn my large feet.
I had to force myself away from the Hello Kitty toaster I saw yesterday when I visited Katie A- at work. I even went so far as to go out to the ATM and take out $40 for it before I sharply reminded myself that I didn’t have that kind of money to spare. I’d already indulged myself by buying multi-purpose herbal supplements, and I couldn’t really justify buying a toaster when I have a perfectly good, if somewhat battered, toaster oven at home. Of course, my toaster oven doesn’t put Hello Kitty’s face on each slice….I suppose I’ll just have to pray someone will buy it for me for Christmas.
My mother gave me her entire Nozuka (I think) Primastone table set. We’ve had this since I was a small child; it’s got eight complete place settings (I think we used this set perhaps twenty times in my whole life) that include dinner plates, saucers, in-between plates, bowls, cups, an oval serving platter and a largish serving bowl. It’s virtually unbreakable stoneware in dark blue, which almost matches my cobalt-blue cappuccino and espresso mugs. I’ve coveted this stuff since I was a kid. My mother also threw in six champagne glasses and eight tumblers. They got a much nicer set, so they weren’t missing out on anything. I was more than grateful.
I had a bit of a shock on Friday. Someone from C—‘s favored message board signed my guestbook a while back. When I noticed it, I was drunk, and I simply signed her guestbook with an equally cryptic message and let it be. I was bored out of my mind on Friday, so I decided to look at her page. I was shocked when I found out that there was an entire section dedicated to C—‘s poetry. Some of it was even poetry that he’d sent me, complete with a touched-up picture he’d sent me.
After all this time, I’d managed to put C—completely out of my mind. Seeing this page ripped open the scars and poured acid in them. I just sat there, burning, staring, disbelieving for a long time. I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I’d even thought of him. Ever since the e-mail where I refused to take all the blame, as I had been, for the weirdness in our friendship, I’d stopped expecting him to respond. He isn’t going to, not after I spoke out against his imposed silence that way.
It only took me a few minutes of staring at the page to get used to the idea, then to discard the significance. I’m not the person he knew, anymore. There’s very little left of the fey, mad thing that would hurt people just for the joy of knowing they were in pain. I used him as a crutch to cast all that aside, in part, and I didn’t even realize what I was doing. I’m sorry for that, and I’m sorry to have lost him in the bargain. The only time I wish he was here anymore is when I can’t control the anger, the other, the chaos, and I have to sit quietly for a long time because I know how close I am to the edge.
I’ve written a hundred entries while in that state; luckily I’ve learned to keep myself from posting them. I miss the madness, isn’t that an odd thing? It was my very favorite addiction, and it felt so good. I had one of those spells on Friday, after I saw the page with C—‘s poetry. I put it to use by making an ass out of myself on Diarist.Net. I picked finalists, then I asked if I could possibly vote against them because I resented their popularity and skills. I haven’t gotten an answer yet – they never answer. I fear I’m getting a reputation for eccentricity.
Joe and Marie aren’t doing well. Joe just wants her to go back to New Mexico half the time, because she hasn’t changed a bit. She’s been telling him that he’s showing a lack of maturity by wanting to stay in the band. He says he loves her but he can’t stand being around her. Nothing he does is right. I feel sorry for him.
I accidentally found out that Krisco works at Claire’s in the Mall. I was passing by, thinking that someone I knew worked there, but I couldn’t figure out who. I looked in, and of course it was Krisco….then I remembered that Aaron was the one who told me she worked there. Yuck. Where am I supposed to buy cheap hair scrunchies now? She looked the same as always, starved into androgyny except for her butt and her face.
My father’s birthday is on the 16th. He’ll be travelling, so we’re taking him out to dinner at Don Pablo’s tomorrow night. He’s never eaten there. I ate there on Friday with Katie and Chris, so I’ve got some new things that my dad might be interested in trying out.
I’m tired and I’m hungry and this is making my eyes hurt. I’m off on Thursday, so I might be updating all the little things that are starting to fall into neglect here. I’m not making any promises, though. Goodnight.
