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© 2004-2008 Linda Escaip
"I may be grumpy, but I like you."
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The Suns and Moons of the Grumpiest Girl in the Room.
Welcome to my journal, sassyknickers.
Moving Along 17-Jan-2005 6:12 p.m.
There is an artist whose music I really enjoy, and who seems to have absconded with my life. Has that ever happened to you? I am not even sure I can explain it, but I can't get my head around the reason I am living this life and she is living that life. It could be me there in the north, with the great career, the albums, the whatever. Still, I am grateful to have this whatever.
You'll be happy to know I just cleaned the keyboard with Q-Tips. They're great for cleaning between the keys, and these keys are looking pretty spiffy now, so I should probably come up with something equally as sparkly to write about... Well, after some quiet contemplation, I haven't come up with much, but Shirley MacLaine did pop into my head for unknown reasons. I was Shirley MacLaine in a past life.
The world is going by; I see it through these big windows. Time is a shape-shifter in more ways than one. The process of its motion is not the same as it was when I was younger; it moved more slowly then. I was unafraid of it then. I fear more things now than when I was little. Or maybe it's just that the things I fear seem closer, like they're gaining on me.
Today my friend heard a girl of twenty-three declare she feels old. I remember feeling old at that age. Some days I felt ancient. But there was a period of about four months during the age of twenty-three when I felt beautiful and young. I felt so goddamn beautiful I think I was more afraid to lose that feeling than I was afraid to lose the person I thought gave me that experience of myself.
The marvelous, previously unknown feeling faded quickly when the fling ended. It was never a fling to me: our intentions just didn't match. It is weird to be used, especially by a lover. Sometimes you know it's happening and sometimes you find out later. Either way, the realization—whenever it comes—feels similar to being in a deep sleep and being startled awake by some loud, unsettling noise. It rattles you. For a while, you match some description they're looking for, longing for. And then you don't.
And I'm too fucking sensitive to have experiences like that. I don't have one of those protective barriers many people seem to wear so well. Where do you get those things anyway? Apparently my shrug mechanism is busted too, because I don't seem to be able to shrug shit off. Life whips by, pieces flying off, sticking to me like Spirit Gum (you need special remover for that stuff).
I have to be careful what I subject myself to. I can't watch the news and still be sane. And witnessing people getting caught up in the latest thing you have to change before anyone will love you, like you, or want to have sex with you craze freaks me out. I saw something a while back about women who were removing parts of their feet (toes, maybe) to be able to more comfortably wear 42" heels. Something like that. Women lamenting over the size of their breasts, their thighs, their hips. Men worrying about erections and the size of those erections, or the lack of them. Having surgery, taking pills, trying new diets. "Did you hear? We're allowed to eat pasta now!" I just typed eat me and then deleted it. And now you know. And it was meant for the dicks of the world who inform us exactly what it is we should be eating each new season, or wearing, or removing, or adding. Thanks, dicks.
Pretty soon, if we're not on top of it, we'll be whitening our pets' teeth along with our own. "Honey, don't you feel awesome knowing Jasper's teeth are whiter than the Richardson's Spanky's teeth? Seriously, if I had to look at that dog's yellowing fangs one more second I think I would have thrown my Bloody Mary at someone's head."
We have new neighbours. The bumper sticker on their car reads "Don't bother me, I'm on the phone." I wonder whether a quick hello would frazzle their knickers. I have never affixed a bumper sticker to any of the cars I've owned. Just not into it, I guess. Although there was one I really wanted: the "Bea Arthur, Be Naked" sticker, which seems to be entirely unavailable now. I'm a big Bea fan.
Speaking of bumper stickers, I saw a good one a while ago: "Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes." It was perfect timing for me to see it, as right at that moment I was feeling like a loser for being such a wimp sometimes. I can't stand the whole wimp thing; I have left so many things unsaid. On the subject of unsaid words, last night I dreamed my old friend Millie found my website. Millie turned into a bloody nightmare in high school. So jealous and mean-spirited. It's hard to believe people get that way. There should be checkpoints every few months.
Sweet rats, there are a lot of snobs roaming about. Personally, I live with a milk snob and even have a little song I sing when the milk-snobbery is underway. A milk snob is a person who will open the brand new milk when there is still milk remaining in an open carton: milk that smells fresh and tasty and does not expire for days. I don't mind milk snobs, especially when they are so cute. It is some of the other snobs I can do without. And that's why I use Snob-Away, the amazing snob repellant. (Please see me about my multi-level marketing scam.)
I scraped the inside of my wrist earlier on the microwave door, and now it looks as if I have made a rather pathetic attempt at offing myself. I have never actually tried that—offing myself. I have known people who tried it. I have known some who succeeded.
Forgive me, but I do have to say this: I have tried boffing myself, which is something else entirely. And I think you know I'm not talking about the live action roleplaying sport involving PVC pipe, foam, and duct tape.
I wonder if the people I still think of from my past ever think of me. There should be some way you could check that sort of thing, like an answering machine that catches thoughts related to you.
Quote From My World
"Do you remember the one bumper sticker I've had? 'Boss Hogg For President.' Shoot me now."
Well, I'm off to reshape my favourite wig. My last ride in the convertible rendered it too sassy for outdoor wear. Thanks for reading.
Linda
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