The moral of this story is:
Sep. 28th, 2003 12:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silverfae9It's been years since I've seen Some Like it Hot, and it shouldn't have been. In pictures, I never remember why I like Marilyn Monroe so much. But then I see her on screen and I remember, of course. She's got that certain I don't know what that all of us who secretly dream of being famous wish we had. And this theatre was perfect. It had atmosphere.
I've done something seriously fucked up to my thumb, and I really should listen to my mom and quit picking at my hands. I just tried to wash my hair without using my thumb, and it was really quite hard.
Starting this week, I plan to become buff. I'm -so- out of shape, and in Seattle that just doesn't work. People are so fit here. Plus, my infamous hip bones are starting to disappear, and I'm not cool with that. I dig my hip bones...they may be my favorite feature.
I think that I have to put the paper away for a few days. It's making me crazy, and feeling rejected before I even apply is, obviously, self-defeating. I need to not think about it for a little bit. I was working on it today, and out came another bit of Brad story:
"Now, each having entered our second decade and back in the same state for the first time in years, we fall back into old habits. Brad’s been driving across the country, farming cheese in Wisconsin and falling under tractors in Minnesota. As far as I can tell he’s just been making a nuisance of himself in small towns when he should be settling down and becoming something real. He reminds me of a story I read once about a guy who wanted to be hit by lightning so badly that he left his life behind to roam the plains with a metal shower rod held aloft in his hopeful fist."
I wonder how much of this is locked away in places I can't get to.
If I was cooler my nose would blink red when I was happy, just like the Wheedle.
I've done something seriously fucked up to my thumb, and I really should listen to my mom and quit picking at my hands. I just tried to wash my hair without using my thumb, and it was really quite hard.
Starting this week, I plan to become buff. I'm -so- out of shape, and in Seattle that just doesn't work. People are so fit here. Plus, my infamous hip bones are starting to disappear, and I'm not cool with that. I dig my hip bones...they may be my favorite feature.
I think that I have to put the paper away for a few days. It's making me crazy, and feeling rejected before I even apply is, obviously, self-defeating. I need to not think about it for a little bit. I was working on it today, and out came another bit of Brad story:
"Now, each having entered our second decade and back in the same state for the first time in years, we fall back into old habits. Brad’s been driving across the country, farming cheese in Wisconsin and falling under tractors in Minnesota. As far as I can tell he’s just been making a nuisance of himself in small towns when he should be settling down and becoming something real. He reminds me of a story I read once about a guy who wanted to be hit by lightning so badly that he left his life behind to roam the plains with a metal shower rod held aloft in his hopeful fist."
I wonder how much of this is locked away in places I can't get to.
If I was cooler my nose would blink red when I was happy, just like the Wheedle.
