Been on spring break this week and have been making a point to go out and do some of the things i would normally not have time to do but love to do anyway. Among these things was visiting Carrie who has aptly returned to west la, gone outlet shopping, to the movies and to spend a little extra time with the little one. Oh, and I've switched back to hard contact lenses and it feels oh-so-good.
Had a nice lunch with carrie at a real classy joint called joe's over in venice. It was strange and yet at the same time familiar to find myself on that side of town again. It's amazing what a few years in the burbs will do to your recognition of the place. Is Barrington east or west of the 405? Where on earth is there a good breakfast place around there? Still, some things never change like the great conversations I can have with one of my favorite gals. Meeting up is such a rare event these days that it's like watching each other's live in super-slow motion. Not a lot changes over the years other than the men who walk in and out of our lives. Always the conversation strays backwards, like that time so many years ago I flicked a cigarette at a bum outside of MAdison's, probably burning his only jacket. Btw, i heard that place is no longer open. And so there ends an icon of one of the sleaziest places I ever had the fortune of frequenting.
Rushed to the ECC to pick up my RGPs that night then went home to admire the BCBGirls creme pumps I had picked up for $40 the day before. The next day I made it a point to go to the movies. The last movie I'd seen before that was Potter 4 and then before that was Batman. The first thing I noticed walking into the cinema at 1 o' clock in the afternoon was that strong scent of fake butter as you walk by the concession. Can you imagine being deprived of the movies for so long that the whiff of fake butter could stop you in your tracks? It did, it really did, the smell slapped me in the face and said, "Sher, you need to get out more." It's true. I walked into my theatre to the left, Theatre 5 and spaced myself among the 10 or so moviegoers who were scattered among the stadium seating. At about 2:00 was another mother of a young baby, but unlike myself she did not see it necessary to leave the baby at home. So what movie did I go to see? Brokeback Mountain. I'm telling you, I was too intrigued not to. I kept wondering to myself why the hell this lady would want to bring her baby in to see Brokeback Mountain. Her poor child kept crying and thankfully they left before the movie started. I won't go through the trouble of coming up with a synopsis because the plot isn't all that easy to summarize. it's left a deep impression on me and 36 hours later I still find myself sighing and pondering over it on atleast a semi-hourly basis. Beautiful cinematography, a brilliant acoustic score (simple, resonant, haunting), and painfully well-acted, this is a modern day Romeo and Juliet that, in spite of it's homosexual underpinnings, is a hundred times more relevant and tragic than it's Shakespearian ancestry. Go watch it, alone if you have to as I did and most of Brokeback's audience does I'd imagine.
Amelie has bronchitis. Came down with a fever of 102 last night and is now being treated with Albuterol, amoxicillin and tylenol. Man, she and I have been sick since the new year. So I guess I won't be going snowboarding tomorrow. That was the last item on my fairly well checked-off list of things to do. That and Ikea. Oh, and getting a massage, but I got a massage last week so I supposed I can do without one for this week. That's alright - I can double check-off the "Spend more time w. Amelie" item.
I love vacation.
3.02.2006
2.26.2006
Wow. It's been almost a year since I used this thing. It's surprising that I'm actually capable of putting something off for that long.
Where did I go? Is it true that women go brain-dead after they have children? Good Lord, does anyone even bother to read this page anymore?
Well if some people don't, I'm glad. It's always been a little distressing knowing that I frequently pour my heart onto this page to mere acquaintances. Complete strangers I don't care about and the few good friends that love me anyway are in fact my target audience. Blogging is a rather self-absorbed hobby that I don't always feel comfortable indulging in inanonymously (karen, is that a word? well if it's not it should be). I had a friend in college who loved to write and would mass-email reams of his random thoughts and questions about life and philosophy to like a hundred people and although we were best friends I had to ask him to take me off of his spam list because his emails were so torturous and long winded. We don't talk anymore. It was a case where we crossed the boundaries of friendship and things were never the same again. I don't think he really ever forgave me.
When you get to be my age (I'm an ancient 25 - ancient because you're only as old as you feel) you become scared, or rather I've become scared that if I don't document my past it will be gone forever, left only to the archives of my own memory that are seldom open to inspection. So I mean to write things down feverishly now, to capture the girl in me that is quickly fading into night, before she is gone forever.
Where does your carefree spirit go when you finally have children? Where does the traveler, the badass, the crass humorist go? Right now it all goes to Amelie. I stand by her as many minutes in the day as I can to show her when to run ahead of me and when to use restraint. I pull her socks off every night and laught at her stinky feet. Her legs are fabulous - bulky in all the right spots and sturdy. She runs so fast now I can't keep up with her. She's small with an enormous belly that juts out in front of her when she walks, pulling the rest of her tiny body behind it. The look in her eyes often tells me she is analyzing things way too much and doesn't have much of an easygoing personality. She can sing and dance now, and pronounces "more" with impressive clarity.
Still, where have I gone in all of this? I must confess this now (for documentation's sake) that right now I just don't know. Since school has started I have had not time for anything but school and motherhood. I hardly have time for myself much less friends or dates or blogging for that matter.
I tended to think, growing up, that the transition into adulthood would be smooth and effortless, a gradual evolution. I never thought it would be in my case, an abrupt departure, like saying goodbye to the girl you knew and loved as she sailed to an unknown destination across the sea. Like a friend, you'd keep her memory close to you and her secrets safely locked away as you yourself aged - waiting until the day she'll return.
Where did I go? Is it true that women go brain-dead after they have children? Good Lord, does anyone even bother to read this page anymore?
Well if some people don't, I'm glad. It's always been a little distressing knowing that I frequently pour my heart onto this page to mere acquaintances. Complete strangers I don't care about and the few good friends that love me anyway are in fact my target audience. Blogging is a rather self-absorbed hobby that I don't always feel comfortable indulging in inanonymously (karen, is that a word? well if it's not it should be). I had a friend in college who loved to write and would mass-email reams of his random thoughts and questions about life and philosophy to like a hundred people and although we were best friends I had to ask him to take me off of his spam list because his emails were so torturous and long winded. We don't talk anymore. It was a case where we crossed the boundaries of friendship and things were never the same again. I don't think he really ever forgave me.
When you get to be my age (I'm an ancient 25 - ancient because you're only as old as you feel) you become scared, or rather I've become scared that if I don't document my past it will be gone forever, left only to the archives of my own memory that are seldom open to inspection. So I mean to write things down feverishly now, to capture the girl in me that is quickly fading into night, before she is gone forever.
Where does your carefree spirit go when you finally have children? Where does the traveler, the badass, the crass humorist go? Right now it all goes to Amelie. I stand by her as many minutes in the day as I can to show her when to run ahead of me and when to use restraint. I pull her socks off every night and laught at her stinky feet. Her legs are fabulous - bulky in all the right spots and sturdy. She runs so fast now I can't keep up with her. She's small with an enormous belly that juts out in front of her when she walks, pulling the rest of her tiny body behind it. The look in her eyes often tells me she is analyzing things way too much and doesn't have much of an easygoing personality. She can sing and dance now, and pronounces "more" with impressive clarity.
Still, where have I gone in all of this? I must confess this now (for documentation's sake) that right now I just don't know. Since school has started I have had not time for anything but school and motherhood. I hardly have time for myself much less friends or dates or blogging for that matter.
I tended to think, growing up, that the transition into adulthood would be smooth and effortless, a gradual evolution. I never thought it would be in my case, an abrupt departure, like saying goodbye to the girl you knew and loved as she sailed to an unknown destination across the sea. Like a friend, you'd keep her memory close to you and her secrets safely locked away as you yourself aged - waiting until the day she'll return.