I reached the boiling point of frustration this week. The 5 Ws, including the why, aren't particularly important, only that I got to that point again after having spent the last 6 to 9 months trying *so* hard to be positive, optimistic, and just generally having a good time.
But now, I have a bottle of red nailpolish, and that always does a girl's toes good. I mean, it's strappy sandal time of the year, and my feet are large, clunky, and then they have these long, long toes, with uneven nails. Gross, gross, gross. But somehow, a coat of red nailpolish makes the foot look less foreign, and more like something you'd actually want associated with the rest of your body.
I want to talk about regret and envy. At some point I also want to talk about Kaavya and the plagarism scandal. I've also been thinking about what happens when someone whom you've known for a good chunk of your life, a decade, walks out of it, and then what do you do with those emotions, those feelings, that emptiness. There are books I'm reading, movies I'm watching, and music I'm listening to. I've stopped pointing out the irony of Republicans decrying capitalism when it comes to gas prices, and I was proud at myself for restraining myself when someone said the $100 rebate was a great idea.
There's paper everywhere in my apartment once again. It covers all the surfaces, and even though I try to throw it out immediately, somehow it takes on a life of its own. It's like the paper-made blob. At work, it's the same thing -- paper, paper, paper. I don't think the paper-free world is possible. I think we like our pulp products too much, that we like the comfort and immediacy and the portability of it. Plus, you can write on paper, highlight your words, scribble across the bottom. It's comforting, visible proof that you've taken action of some kind.
One thing you might not know about me, all you readers who don't know me in RL: I write upside down almost. Yes, indeed I do. I'm left-handed, I write upside down, and I drink out of a left-handed mug.