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Oh, itís back to 100 words for me. I canít believe so much time has passed. Iíve dearly missed this project, as it makes me feel like a valued contributor to an international project. Iím embarking on a new phase of my life journey, and I believe that this is the appropriate forum for my adventures. Itís so wonderful to be able to go back and read all of the captured memories. I wonder if anyone will read these. I wonder if anyone read the ones before. I guess it really doesnít matter anyhow. Thatís all for now, I think.
I cut my hair again. Kind of layered. I read about it online. If you flip your head down and comb your hair in front of your face and then cut it in a straight line, your hair layers itself. It's still in the drying phase after my shower, so I'll have to see what it looks like when it dries.
I like that I can cut my hair myself. Screw paying to get my hair cut. First of all, my hair grows tremendously fast, and I can't go paying someone 30 bucks every time I want to cut it.
I don't like my oldest brother. I hate how my mother thinks that he's wonderful. We see him, at best, once a year. He comes and ruins everything. He has no emotional depth, and his icy blue eyes don't ever settle on anything. He talks to me like I'm seven years old. He's the one that understands me least in the family.
I'm very angry that my parents treat him like a golden child when he is 3000 miles away, never calls, but he does send a flower arrangement every year at Christmas and
oh my isn't that just lovely.
I wanted to let you know that I'm angry you stopped speaking to me. I was angry at you for a long time. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever get over it. Sometimes I think I might try to call you or otherwise get a hold of you, but I'm not sure what I would say. I would apologize for hurting you in the ways that I did.
I'm angry for not being myself with you. I'm angry that I never picked up the phone. I'm angry that you didn't either.
Five years passed and Iím still so angry.
When does watching shit on television lose it's appeal?
We have more than 100 channels. I forced myself to watch some news and MadTV. Both were atrocious. I saw spots for the 3rd
Sex & the City
movie, another stupid Will Farrell movie, and the 27th
. Good job with the creativity, Hollywood. I guess you hope that people simply obsess over the birth of Angelina Jolie's twins. That will distract them from the fact that her last transgressive role was almost 10 years ago, when she won the Oscar for
I got really upset last night at my ex, who just wonít let go. We both ended up on the phone, crying. I walked outside and found one of the neighborís cat, whom I call ďKitty KittyĒ. Kitty Kitty is fat and white and beautiful and loves to be touched by me. She slipped inside my room and stayed with me until I kicked her out this morning.
Breakfast at Tiffanyís
, which always makes me feel better. I identify with Holly Golightly, who also has a cat that doesnít really belong to her. Where is
I just signed up for the National Writing Month (November). Itís 50,000 words in one month. Jesus, I can barely manage the 3,000 required for 100 words. Iím going to start thinking about what I want to write. I havenít written fiction in so long, since Iím such a non-fictionista.
I think that I will start formulating some ideas for my November novel. I want to either do my Southern Gothic Greek Tragedy, or my Catholic-laced foursome romance (a la Unbearable Lightness of Being). Iím definitely leaning toward the Southern Greek Tragedy, because everyone loves reading about the Oedipal complex.
So my idea for my novel is the adaptation of Greek themes in a deep Southern setting. The main character is Electra, who is secretly involved with her step-uncle, Alex, (her step-fatherís brother). She and her step-father have a strained relationship, and Iím pretty sure that he has constantly been appropriate with her.
The other main character is Rex (Oedipus Rex, get it?). Electra and Rex are going to meet someway in the middle of the novel. Weíre also going to meet Psyche, Jocasta, and Eros along the way. I need to formulate my ideas better before I start writing.
My date with Stephen Colbert
Stephen and I snuck into a college and went out on its bayside balcony. He was laying down on his back, gazing adoringly at me as I told him about my life. Suddenly, we heard a rustling, and realized that someone had spotted us.
We knew we had to get out, because we couldnít be caught together there. I chased the kid into his dorm room, but he had turned into a fish. I brought the tank into the lobby, and tried to stab the inflated puffer fish with a knitting needle.
My dream ended.
I had my garage sale yesterday. I made about 70 dollars. Which was, essentially, people paying me to take away my shit. At the end of the day, I took everything left over to the Salvation Army. I still have to continue purging my room of my belongings. There are a heap of clothes covering my closet, a slew of hangers strewn next to my bed, and a computer desk that is in a state of chaos.
I will try to not be distracted by the Olympics and get some cleaning done. My leave date is sneaking up on me.
Iíve been thinking a little bit more about the novel I want to write for the November novel writing project. I definitely want to weave in my new theme about life: the process of truly becoming human is difficult.
This is the notion that you must be self-reflective, transformative, and open to all of lifeís experiences. Simultaneously, you have to heal the wounds of the past to engage in your life at the present.
I think Iíll give my heroine a traumatic past, watch her repeat some childhood mistakes, and then follow her painful journey into freedom from her bondage.
Someone put a stack of Obama stickers on the round table in the common area at work! I'm sorry, but I think that is so inappropriate. I think that it makes people feel uncomfortable. Well, it makes me feel uncomfortable. What if someone were to put a stack of McCain stickers on the table?
Oh, wait, they wouldn't.
This is a university. No conservatives allowed.
At least someone put a napkin on top of the stack, as to occlude them slightly.
I don't think it's appropriate to place election propaganda in the workplace. Leave that at home.
Wow, he really is cute. He reminds me of Ben, in a way. Similar face, complexion, same type of build. I came to such a harsh conclusion about him when I overheard him the other day. He seems like he would make a really good friend, and perhaps an even better lover.
Heís got those eyes, so similar to mine, that pierce with a knowingness about the universe. I wonder if thatís something unique to us. Maybe thatís just my ancestral pride pushing out through his gaze. Iím curious if he has more of that right than I do. Hmm.
I have such Olympic fever. No matter what stupid garbage is on television, I watch it. Yesterday, I watched ĎEquestrian Dressageí, which is the display of trotting horses. Seriously. You watch a horse gallop around in different styles. Is bowling an Olympic sport.
I really need to stop watching the Olympics and do some laundry and room cleaning. Iím so scared that I donít even know what day it is and Iím leaving for Chicago on September 3rd. Iíve been a bit paralyzed with my fear, and upset that now Iíve made a new friend and I have to leave.
I had a dream with a Ďfalse awakeningí. I was writing the name of someone because I was supposed to remember this from the dream. Then I
woke up, and I have no paper or pen by my bed.
I jumped down a spiral stairwell, knowing that I would be fine. Like Alice down the rabbit hole, I knew I wouldn't fall forever.
Another segment of my dream was vivid and mystical. It seems that all of my really vivid dreams are located in the same fantasy world that is somewhere on the edge of the ocean.
Oh, Iím so tired! I went over to my friendís last night and we drank some wine and chatted and made Origami. But now Iím really tired. But thatís ok. I could really sue a nap, but I just canít stop watching the Olympics.
And now, the ATP tennis tournament in DC is on, and I just canít not watch Juan Martin del Potro. I know heís only 19, but I canít help thinking about his 6 foot 6 frame wrapped around my body. I wonder if he needs a girlfriend. And I know I could pass for 19. Yum.
Thereís this lady I often see jogging. She does her hair like she's just been to prom. Not only that, she wears make-up! In Florida. Where concealer drips off your face.
I have this romantic idea that maybe she has a crush on a man who lives in the neighborhood and wants to look her best, her lithe body jogging lightly with pound weights wrapped with French-manicured nail tips. She jogs every day at the same time, hoping to catch him on his way in from work. One day last week, he waved to her from his garage and smiled.
gas station conversation
I was in Racetrac getting my gas-station coffee and made conversation with a impeccably dressed man. He let me go ahead of him in line, and I thanked him. ďWhy are lines always longer when youíre running late for work?Ē He said he was in no rush. He was actually assisted by another clerk, and beat me to the exit. ďHave a nice day,Ē he said as he held the door open for me.
His car was parked next to mine, and as we were both opening up our doors, he said, ďYou have pretty hair.Ē
Tie me up
I was watching clips from that church ďdebateĒ with McCain and Obama and Purpose-Driven pastor, Rick Warren. Why werenít any of them wearing ties? I think that this whole ďIím too cool to wear a tieĒ is really lame, especially when youíre running for president. Maybe they were told not to.
I have a reminiscence for a time when men wore ties when they went out for coffee. The tasty George Peppard (
Breakfast at Tiffanyís
) comes to mind. Wear your fucking ties, men! What else are women going to use to pull you in for a kiss?
Iím at work, so of course Iím feeling angry.
My blood boils at work when I have to do things like photocopy book chapters. Itís annoying, first, on a practical level. The copier barely follows my directions, and I end up throwing sheets away. Second, itís insulting. I have a masterís degree. I didnít go to school for 18 years so that I could photocopy your book chapter.
Iím also angry because itís lunchtime, and everyone is stuffing their faces and talking about stupid things. I donít eat lunch with them because no one really wants to talk to me.
I had a terrible anxiety dream last night.
I was in Chicago, luggage in tow. I was riding the purple line as if it were a rollercoaster through a mall. It was a steep drop into the perfume section. That was when I realized that nothing was in my bags. I had forgotten to pack. All my interview clothes, shoes,
! I only had my laptop, without the battery.
I told someone at work about this dream, and she had this positive spin on it: ďLook at it this way, youíre going to Chicago without baggage. Iíd rock that dream.Ē
You know, everyone keeps telling me how Iím going to freeze my ass off in Chicago, but Iím tired of sweating. Florida is humidly sweaty about 9 months out of the year. Iím constantly overheated, and I am just uncomfortably hot all the time, even in the air conditioning.
I hope to live by myself and never have the heater set above 70. People will come into my apartment and go outside to warm up. I will have blankets available to my guests. And I wonít wake up sweating. Bring it on, Chicago! Iím ready to be cooled off, permanently.
I thought about the way that you would kiss me, shy and gentle and sweet. Fingertips would reach around my waist, underneath my blouse, and I would smile as you tickled my skin. I canít imagine that you would be anything but delicate.
You and I would have this really sweet night of passion before I went away. It would be real and perfect, so different from anything else Iíve had before. Your skin, your scent, everything so familiar to me. Something would bring me back to
romantic place with you. I wonder if you think about that, too.
Iíve been saying goodbye, one by one, to people.
April and I went outlet shopping yesterday and talked about the world.
Rob and I went out for dinner, and then the Bahai Hut for drinks. I tried to explain how we both truly needed time apart to heal. He said he understood, but today keeps calling me. We both cried when we said goodbye.
Brian and I will go thrift shopping on Saturday, finally.
Dieudonnee I will probably see before I go.
Jasmine hasnít called me in a while. Sheís pregnant.
I donít really have many friends in the area.
White Shirt Woes
So this morning I went to RaceTrac. I got my coffee, and came out to my car. I took a sip, and of course spilled some on myself! So I went inside to the bathroom to wash the stains off, making my white blouse rather translucent. As I came out of the bathroom, I saw the guy who complimented me the other day on my hair. Knowing that half of my shirt was out of a wet t-shirt contest, I rushed past him, looking angry. I saw him outside, and he kept trying to catch my gaze.
I am so tired. Natalie and I went to the Copper Top for beer and conversation. We smoked all my cloves so I had my last one this morning because I was running late for work and couldnít stop to buy any. I was going to get that, along with gas.
I really am so tired. I canít wait to get out of here. Work is redundant.
Iíve felt like Iím going to get my period for about a week now. Low abdominal cramping. I wish my uterus would just bleed already. Bleed motherfucker, bleed.
I am leaving here soon.
Sweet fear and anticipation as I prepare for my move to Chicago. I know there are some practical things I havenít done (study my career books, polish my resume, make business cards), but everything else is all squared away. Iím carefully packing (given the new luggage allotments), and purging things that are no longer of use. Iím also saying goodbye to my friends here, and letting go of the pain that exists here as well.
Iím going to give myself some time to adjust to the move, and really hit things on the Monday after I arrive. Iíll make it.
Tomorrow is my last day at the office. I am very happy about this. I hope to wrap up my loose ends, and count down the hours. I donít think that anyone planned anything for me. They never do. Nearly three years time there and my presence is not much respected.
In doing some late nigh work for our project, I see that there are so many child-serving research locations in Chicago that I feel would be impressed if I told them who Iíve been doing research with. This makes me hopeful. I saw a name from Northwestern, Jeremy Lyons.
Something sparked my mind and I was thinking about how I have a very hungry mouth, if Iím not shy with the person that Iím kissing. Like, if I know they want to be kissing me and find me sexy, watch out!
I havenít heard from Robbie in 3 days and itís very strange. I will resist my urge to call him, because I know that only causes him to think itís ok to call me. I canít wait for him to leave me alone, but then when he does things feel out of place.
I liked kissing him hungrily.
my mind transgresses to thoughts of you
mayhaps because you were the first
deleterious effect of my synaptic gaps
meeting with you in dreaming lucidity
tells me that our souls are reminiscent
of a time and place absconded by life
Thatís a poem but it doesnít add up to 100 words.
I like reading random peopleís 100 words. It makes me feel less lonely. Iím lonely now here all by myself, praying for a job during this goddamned recession. I say
because thereís something invariable unforgiving and harsh about it. Like the economy. Just four more words.
I'd like to take you with me, there.
Actually, I think I'd rather you just see me there, elevated above you, away
from you, and without you.
My heart still thinks about you, but I myself never wonder how you are.
The city swirls like wisps, again.
Sanctimony and soothingness burns, I immerse and emerge, away
from you, and without you.
I have found you in every lover that I've had, though I never loved you.
The buildings are simply patterns, repeating.
Windows and concrete alternate, glass and stone, away
from you and without you.
Shattered and strong.
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