So, I have no contacts in and I’m very much gone on Scotch and Sierra Mist (which isn’t an alcohol, mind you, but a lovely soft drink beverage), and I just took a long, romantic bubble bath with the man of my choice, the kid from Fargo who once had blue hair and now has an oddly tinged shade of blonde that works well for him and makes him incredibly sexy.
It’s snowing outside, and I’m about to sleep. I’ve had so many things to say for days now, and lost the moment everytime.
I’m not connected, that’s for sure. In rehearsal for the play I’m in, we have to be connected and I don’t feel it with anyone, not the sexy Spanish Ryan Phillippe boy or the mysterious sensual boy everyone calls “Savory” or the redhaired Soap Opera girl who hated me at first sight because I was everything she was not. But I will. It’s a goal. Ann will help me there, and I will have long hair and sleek lines and glide through the lights like a first snowfall.
The song — Meadowlark — in the water, I thought of the wrong person, but that was okay, because half of my brain is in another time, but whose isn’t? I have to ask. I’m being absurd with my first love somewhere in time, and being a dork with my second in another, equally as much, if not the second more. It’s okay. It’s okay. The world goes on, and as do I, turning and turning, I am a dancer, finally, in the sleek candlelight, though it was exploitation, I am a dancer.
And perhaps for all out drunkness sake I should leave the spelling mistakes, but I won’t, because I’m too much of a grammarphobe.
The snow falls, and I slip into bed beside my love.
So, I obviously wrote my election diatribe before I knew there was no declared winner. After I ranted, I tried to sleep and lay there for two hours until I found myself too blah to sleep. So, I got up and played the Sims (which is beyond an addiction right now) for an hour, and then checked the news to find out, ah lo and behold, there is no president.
There’s a blizzard outside! My window is perfectly arranged in front of my bed so I wake up to that every morning.
Bah, people keep talking to me. Sometimes, I am the most unsocial and reclusive person, and not many people understand that.
More tomorrow, the real world awaits for a bit.
I actually had a certain sense of American pride when I voted today. There was something so patriotic and independent about being able to have my say in the country. And as I sat, glued to the computer and the television screen, my head raced. I sat with my best friends (which includes my boyfriend), and there was almost a sense of religion about us, as we prayed to the political gods: please, not Bush.
This is not overdramatic. In my opinion, if you are a woman or minority or a fan of the environment, you should have all been chanting: please, not Bush. He stands for hate. He stands for easy solutions to tough problems: kill them. Tell them no, without listening. Every homosexual couple who ever wanted a chance of equality is cringing. A pregnant young woman is sitting in the corner of her house right now, her hands in her face: please, not Bush.
Perhaps the world would not end. But it will halt. There will be a four-year inhalation of breath.
I wanted a president who knew what being human was like. I wanted a president who could see through the eyes of the common man, see their fears and their desire for independence. This is not possible now.
Ah, there is no joy in Mudville, oh no. The world will just have to sit back and wait.