At Target I think the cashier kid gave me a dirty look for not wanting a plastic bag. Well fuck you, too. I was just trying to save the goddamn environment.
Thinking lately about how we are all arrows, pointing somewhere, or pointing nowhere. We could land in a field face down with no plan or parting words.
Teen Dream is totally rocking my house tonight.
Spent some time yesterday on Google Maps. Holy cow. What a cool way to spend time. I type in my address and then like Prince Edward Island. You have to cross the Bay of Fundy in a ferry. I click on the images and see what the place looks like. It like directs you to the ferry yard assuming you will put your car on the boat. It will take 15 hours to get there. Or you can take a plane. But then can you really appreciate how “far” it really is?? Canada looks kind of similar to America. But so far away from home. I just dream of driving there… and being such a foreigner in a foreign land.
Next I should type in this destination: http://www.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/americas/08/07/greenland.ice.island/index.html
Groenland.
August. So whatever the month has changed. it means that summer is practically over. If you hate your job teaching then your life will now begin to suck. Or you can reclaim your life and offer your time and talent to better things, even if it means having no money for a little while.
I’m liking this drunk voice of mine. This past week I spent on the Cape with my parents. We were tourists. I get overzealous when there are french people around, and I want to talk to them. Half to impress my parents, half to just be an American ambassador. I’m usually disappointed. I befriended this little asshole who chose to ignore my parents sitting next to me and hit on me and guess that I was either from California or Texas and offer other American stereotypes. When his father came in the pool he goes “Ah, tu travailles ton anglais” to his son and they share a fucking laugh and no one has any manners. They really should go back to france. What the fuck? Yet they are this mysterious conundrum to so many Americans and their Eiffel Tower makes us drool.
Pretty weird that CNN now has “story highlights” for those who don’t have the attention span necessary to read a five paragraph news article.
What else?
What else?
What else?
What else?
I think I’ve reached the end of the line. Nicole can’t have improvised plans with me. the plans need to be on her terms. Recently she was like “I want Go Berry” and I was like “Really? I want Herrell’s” and she was like “let’s do both”.”
Or: she was like “I want to eat at this expensive restaurant” and I was like “I don’t have the money let’s just get a beer” and she was like “Nevermind” so Forget her, basically. Unfortunately our friendship is going to have to die. Because she sees me as a goal-less girl with no schedule or work ethic. And I see her as an anal-retentive cellist so dead set on becoming an orchestral cellist she is willing to never have any friends or social life for the next 20 years. She can’t get together for a fucking beer because she needs to practice until 3 am, so fuck her. Speaking of which she could use that.
I could use that too. I’m dreaming a little bit about having sex again, which is always a good thing. I may be able to overlook R’s faults for the 10 minutes necessary to have an orgasm and to have another one’s body next to me. He is coming home on Wednesday and it will be a happy homecoming even though there will be sad tears. Cry cry cry. Unknown. No happiness down the aisle or saying yes to the dress for me. Maybe in a future life.
There is a cute girl in my pilates training with a new child and a helpful mother + husband. I really want to be a mother one day. I hope it’s not in 10 years. I hope it’s not in 5 years. I hope it is in 2-3 years. I realized that our generation is so dead set on becoming something extraordinary that motherhood is no longer a desired state unless it’s something that escapes you like at age 37 and you spend your life trying to adopt or conceive artificially. Then you can write your little article in the NYT about how badly you want to be a mother. But at your art schools it’s not a goal among women, like to become a mom before age 30. But it’s such a beautiful occupation. Such a noble endeavor. Doesn’t it occur to anyone that maybe working in the labor market is less enriching than mothering and maintaining a home? Just wondering. Like, and maybe less women would be on anti-depressants if they didn’t feel like such failures for being “just” stay at home moms? Maybe it’s a noble cause after all? But no, we all think that we all are failures for not being the next Cindy Sherman or Kim Deal.
This buzz is wearing off. I wish you were next to me + we could dance together.
