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My Friday Five
1. Do you wear any jewelry? What kind?
Mostly silver, frequently my pentacle ring. Lately, the silver ring my sister gave me for Christmas. I frequently wear stud earrings. I get jewelry mostly for the art of it, and forget to do anything with accessorizing or matching to other stuff.
2. How often do you wear it?
Most of the time. Watches and necklaces less frequently than bracelets, rings and earrings.
3. Do you have any piercings? If so, where?
Only my ears so far, five in the left, three in the right.
4. Do you have any tattoos? If so, where?
No, but then, I haven't decided what I want yet.
5. What are your plans for the weekend?
Working at the pizza place. Working on Magazine design. Working on cleaning up my wardrobe. Working on moving into my besfren Janel's house (and Chris too!). More cat torture. More house cleaning. Maybe job searching if there's time.
* * * * *
In other news:
Today is J.R.R. Tolkien's eleventy-first birthday, according to a friend of mine, and the Tolkien Society has proposed a toast at 9 p.m. GMT. Which is 4 p.m. our time, so I hearsay. I'm thinking I may light a fire for a bit of an afternoon tea like, since it won't be tippling time here.
Thursday was horrible, and I hope Friday will be better. I don't like it when people get to me, and people got to me yesterday. Clue Mallet: never ever think that since things have gone well so far, they should coast along for the rest of the day ok. Particularly if you haven't left the house yet.
Late last night, I was at my friendly, neighborhood Waffle House, snarfing steak and eggs over service horror stories with LeStat, telling her about my horrible day in detail with three-part harmony and implements of destruction. After a while of doing puzzles and smoking my last cigarette, I was about to go when I saw a guy I haven't seen in a year-and-a-half. When I had seen him last, he was in Decatur. When I had seen him last, we had gone out for a beer, and maybe flirted a bit. When I hadn't seen him last, I had called and gotten his roommate after the umpteenth message and been told, "No, he's not here, gee whiz. He's always at his girlfriend's house. Why don't you call there?"
That was when I realized this crap's been going on for a year and a half.
My mother, whenever I get into my life-is-crap moods, always mourns that she and my father ever let me go to Emory. I know this is because Emory is that "liberal" school that ruined me and turned me into the thing-she-won't-admit-she-thinks-I-am. I never say it, but I always want to burst out: Geez, isn't it bad enough that you totally stunted me with your 1950's life and your Christian conservative mores and your overprotective behavior that made me totally unprepared to deal with 99.5% of the people out there in the world, (everything they told me about how other people thought was completely wrong) and send me out like somehow I was supposed to have a clue and evangelize the world like I was on a mission from God or something... now you wish you'd just had a few years longer to make it stick? What?
What she doesn't know is that Emory represented me the same thing she and my dad did, and she just WISHES I had stayed at Emory, because there, I felt pressure to conform. I ran away to the Rocky Horror Show because I was afraid of being what Emory would make me.
1. Do you wear any jewelry? What kind?
Mostly silver, frequently my pentacle ring. Lately, the silver ring my sister gave me for Christmas. I frequently wear stud earrings. I get jewelry mostly for the art of it, and forget to do anything with accessorizing or matching to other stuff.
2. How often do you wear it?
Most of the time. Watches and necklaces less frequently than bracelets, rings and earrings.
3. Do you have any piercings? If so, where?
Only my ears so far, five in the left, three in the right.
4. Do you have any tattoos? If so, where?
No, but then, I haven't decided what I want yet.
5. What are your plans for the weekend?
Working at the pizza place. Working on Magazine design. Working on cleaning up my wardrobe. Working on moving into my besfren Janel's house (and Chris too!). More cat torture. More house cleaning. Maybe job searching if there's time.
In other news:
Today is J.R.R. Tolkien's eleventy-first birthday, according to a friend of mine, and the Tolkien Society has proposed a toast at 9 p.m. GMT. Which is 4 p.m. our time, so I hearsay. I'm thinking I may light a fire for a bit of an afternoon tea like, since it won't be tippling time here.
Thursday was horrible, and I hope Friday will be better. I don't like it when people get to me, and people got to me yesterday. Clue Mallet: never ever think that since things have gone well so far, they should coast along for the rest of the day ok. Particularly if you haven't left the house yet.
Late last night, I was at my friendly, neighborhood Waffle House, snarfing steak and eggs over service horror stories with LeStat, telling her about my horrible day in detail with three-part harmony and implements of destruction. After a while of doing puzzles and smoking my last cigarette, I was about to go when I saw a guy I haven't seen in a year-and-a-half. When I had seen him last, he was in Decatur. When I had seen him last, we had gone out for a beer, and maybe flirted a bit. When I hadn't seen him last, I had called and gotten his roommate after the umpteenth message and been told, "No, he's not here, gee whiz. He's always at his girlfriend's house. Why don't you call there?"
That was when I realized this crap's been going on for a year and a half.
My mother, whenever I get into my life-is-crap moods, always mourns that she and my father ever let me go to Emory. I know this is because Emory is that "liberal" school that ruined me and turned me into the thing-she-won't-admit-she-thinks-I-am. I never say it, but I always want to burst out: Geez, isn't it bad enough that you totally stunted me with your 1950's life and your Christian conservative mores and your overprotective behavior that made me totally unprepared to deal with 99.5% of the people out there in the world, (everything they told me about how other people thought was completely wrong) and send me out like somehow I was supposed to have a clue and evangelize the world like I was on a mission from God or something... now you wish you'd just had a few years longer to make it stick? What?
What she doesn't know is that Emory represented me the same thing she and my dad did, and she just WISHES I had stayed at Emory, because there, I felt pressure to conform. I ran away to the Rocky Horror Show because I was afraid of being what Emory would make me.
