She Journeys

live through this and you won't look back

Just finished reading Emma Thompson's film diary for Sense and Sensibility. This is one of my favourite bits:
"SUNDAY 7 MAY : Gidleigh Park Hotel. Here for a weekend off. Walked to Dartmoor, among black-faced lambs and foals, climbed to the top of a large rock and met a small boy.
Me: Hello.
Boy: H'llo.
Me: This is a good place, isn't it?
Boy: Yes.
Me: If it weren't hazy we could see for miles.
Boy: On a clear day you can see way over to south Devon.
Pause.
Boy: That's something you can't buy.
At which I expected him to sprout wings and ascend to heaven. He was wearing a slightly disappointing AC/DC T-shirt, though, which brought me back to earth."

Went out to celebrate Katie's birthday tonight, met up with her and her gigantic gathering of friends at Moxies on the north end. It was the first time I'd seen Melissa all year -- she looked really good, and she and Jeff are still together, which warms my heart. My meal was SO yummy and I had a Moxie-sized Rockin' Berry Margarita that was SO good, I am totally not even exaggerating. I think I'm a margarita-holic. Katie and some of the others were going to New City afterwards, which I would have totally been up for, if not for three things: 1. I worked all day and my feet hurt. 2. I don't really feel *comfortable* at the bar without one of *my* friends with me (silly and totally junior high-esque dependency, I know). 3. I feel like a big tubbo, and that doesn't really put me in dancing mode.

I had a pretty good day at work, though! Surprising. Totally figures... I had a wretched day yesterday, and had decided that if today was a bad day I'd put my notice in on Monday. Seriously. But noooo, it had to be a totally fun slacker giggly day with all my favourite people (Jo, Jill, Lisa, Christie, Christina, Melissa, Tracy, Karrie, even Marla -- tsss). We were totally over-staffed, so there was an awful lot of opportunity for goofing around. Melissa and I acted like total geeks -- who knew a seemingly innocuous book title could turn out to be the source of so much amusement? Let alone a MARGARET ATWOOD title *gasp*. We were talking today about the staff Christmas party (amongst other things), and it sounds like this year may be a fun one (yay), so I can't quit quite yet. I do need to find a better job, though (no doy). Jill and I were discussing wages/raises, etc. in the break room, which is always demoralizing. Also, I had both Gerrit and Cindy (who doesn't even work with me anymore!) say things to me last week that made me feel even more crappy then usual. *sigh*

What am I going to do?

On a lighter note, when Rianne dropped me off I went in the doors at the other side of my building, looked up, and noticed that the blanket that was previously serving as the curtain in Curtis' bedroom is now gone. I suppose that means they've moved, like he'd been saying they were going to. This is good. Now I won't have to suffer beneath that noxious cloud of terror --okay, a little fear, a little hope -- that settles over me whenever I think of running into him again. That chapter is now closed.

So, awhile back I entered a poetry contest that Rianne had directed me to, and I guess one of the poems I sent in was shortlisted to a list of 40. They are featuring 20 on their website, and printing the other 20 in a chapbook, which they are sending a copy of to all who entered, and then three poems will be chosen as cash-prize winners. I know this is really cool, and I'm totally excited... but... I've almost completely badgered my optimism out of existence. I seem to follow the 'way of the wacko'. After the first thrilling flush of euphoria, this is what I thought (in no particular order):
How many people entered? 40?
Why did they pick this poem? Did they decide previously that they were going to pick at least one from every writer who entered, and this was just the least-worst out of mine?
They shouldn't have picked this poem. It's lame, and annoying. Who writes in couplets anymore?
What if it doesn't get chosen for the chapbook? Then it doesn't even count. If it's not on paper, it doesn't count.
They just wanted my $15 entry fee.
I'm no poet. Nobody will ever hold my words to their chest or roll my syllables on their tongue.

Oh, and speaking of chapters, Jill thinks our screenplay should be called "Paragraphs". I think she thinks she's funny *lol*. Ah, but she is.

Things to do:
1. loan repayment papers - fill out and send in
2. mail Lorraine her care package
3. work on scarf
4. read book for class
5. make Katie a CD
6. laundry

posted by TriptychChick @ 10:19 PM