my inner lizard: May 2003 Archives

so i was in this mood. so i added some hole lyrics to the database - doll parts & violet. soon after this my coworker tells me she had something for me, from a yard sale - a bag of doll arms. she saw it & thought of me (do your coworkers see bags of doll arms & think of you? yeah. my job rocks.) & at some point i must have clicked something in the lyrics page that went & searched for 'hole' on ebay, because behind the current window was an ebay auction for swarovsky beads (with holes in them, of course). amethyst colored crystal beads. between the entertaining writing & the coffee-bean shaped beads i decided to drop a ten dollar bid & see what happened. and the sky was made of amethyst ... doll parts ...

i swear this means something.

remember if you search that database, don't leave that default text in the text box & then click like six or seven times. i mean it.

* * *
update: not one to get into bidding wars, i did not acquire the coffeebean shaped beads. not one to screw with mysterious portents, i located a different set of amethyst-colored crystal beads from that same seller, and won. can i explain this? not now. not yet. but it will make one hell of a lot of perfect sense someday, mark my words.

many moons ago, i was in a dive bar engaged in an intellectual debate about narcissism with a biker. he didn't believe that i even knew the definition of the word, which i had chosen in response to one of those 'one word that describes you' questions.

defining things is not my strong suit, since that's a rather academic exercise, & my brain doesn't work that way, my understanding of things is almost always gleaned from a variety of contexts & more conceptual than concrete. i tend to use examples, in this case i believe i said, 'well, i think the best decoration in any room is mirrors, and i think bathing is an art that can take up to three hours & requires dozens of carefully selected products. also, i get dressed up to have sex with myself.'

that shut him up.

and so i was sitting here now remembering me then, and yes i was quite narcissistic, and this was not a bad thing. i wasn't arrogant, well, not very arrogant. alright, but i wasn't very arrogant all of the time. ok, maybe i was. whatever. it happened around the age of 36; prior to that my self-loathing knew few if any boundaries. i think it was one of the bravest things i ever did in self-defense, loving and caring for myself, especially considering the circumstances, which were ... grim. what is it with me & grim anyway? ah well.

i'm trying to get back a little of that arrogance, a little of that self-assuredness, and as much of the self-indulgence as i can manage. i suppose there will always be a great deal of ambivalence involved in any self-involvement i'm involved in, hopefully not so much this time. however it holds true, the part about portrays, poses, & plays her part gamely - it always feels like an act, it probably always will.

what brought this up? i've taken to taking self-portraits lately, this is something entirely new and extremely unusual for me. i'm thinking that it's maybe kind of a weird thing to do, and that's probably the only way i let myself get away with it.

i should shut up and just take the damn picture.

in the dream the dream that was during the waking day came as true as it ever would.

greetings from the land of good-god-what-have-i-done-now. it's a lovely evening here, well, except for the fumes.

*pause* alright then. i've decided that i meant to do this, maybe not in this way exactly, but that's not important right now. what is important is that if i still have any hair after this last round of chemical whimsy, that i will have acheived exactly whatever it was i had in mind when i set off on this journey some four hours ago. the same goes for the alternative, the not having any hair left. i couldn't very well do it back when that irish chick that pissed of the pope was doing it, now could i? no, i make my own trends.

whatever happened to the good old days when everyone wore hats? what a lot of hatless heathens we've become. *shakes head*

wait. what am i talking about? i've acheived that highly desirable & difficult effect whereby a lovely veryvery light golden blonde color at the roots fades in strategically arranged patches to a lovely pale rusty color at the ends -- something i'm sure would have cost me a small fortune if i'd walked into whatshisname of beverly hills' & requested such an elaborate 'do.

ok, ok, it's not really all that bad. it could be worse. i could have scissors & beer.

oh wait.

up all night downloading extensions from macromedia & rasterbating in fireworks, trying to come up with something not-ugly that would pass for ugly when presented to ugly-liking paying clients. then the cows came home. well, the coffee started, same thing. fell asleep. woke up. fell asleep. woke up. lather rinse repeat then it was i think ten? p.m. whoa.

none of the urgency i felt would get me up off the couch, even knowing i had a good supply of pharmassure energy formula & coffee you could stand a fork in, surely i could have pried myself awake, but i couldn't care. enough. cared a little, yes i did, i did care. sure. i was wakeful enough to delete approximately ten thousand (no that is not an exaggeration in the slightest) emails i've been meaning to go through. did a little harddrive housecleaning, freed up a few gigs. installed a pretty purple taskbar to go with my fancy glassy purple icon set. rearranged the desktop. purple's not my favorite color, but it's working in this context. that's about it though.

occurs to me how wonderful it might be if this or something frighteningly like this were my normal. if i could wake up afternoon/evening, relax around a little & get productive say elevenish, spend the night busy in the peaceful quiet never guilting about the impending morning, which would not be a time of expectations or fretfulness or any sort of urgency. that's a run-on sentence young lady. whose voice was that? & who you callin' young?

i'm a lot younger in the middle of the night.