One Little Slip

and no one told me!! I decided since the weather was warm today with a bit of a breeze that I would wear one of my long flowing skirts. I wanted to wear my brown teeshirt so the only skirt that matched it was my turquoise blue long skirt.

Well apparently this skirt is a tad see-through. How have I had this skirt for almost a year and not have known that fact? Ahhhhhh

So I have these pink and red striped panties that have bits of silver inbetween each stripe. Very cute might I add…cute but not to be on display.

So the skirt matched with the panites…was apparently perfection! Read on:

It’s almost 9pm, my first class was at noon. I walked to and from school 3 times, both ways makes it 6 times. Each time showing all of downtown Fort Lauderdale my panties!

You can seeeee everything through this skirt, the panties, the butt, everything! I am mortified that I didnt notice before now and that not one girl said “hey did you know your skirt is see through?”…Nothing!

The only up side to this horrid situation is that at least I wasn’t wearing the ones that say “I Love Kissing” on the bum.

I am always surprised by the absolute intense emotions that certain Beatles songs can rouse within me. I grew up with the Beatles so you’d think this stuff would be old news for me, but tonight for instance I was having a massive craving for The White Album. I took a listen and fell into the lap of a dear old friend “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” I was immediately transported into a state of bliss.

I danced in a flutter around the room.

Instantly had the urge to dig out my box of acrylic paints and a canvas so that I could paint a guitar that was drowning in a pool of tears and melting ever so slowly.

I wished I had a pair of yellow rubber rain boots.And I wanted to eat a cupcake (although I had wanted to eat a cupcake all day) but I wanted to eat it while panting in my rubber boots and sitting in the middle of the room on the floor. *sigh* I love my Beatles moments…for they are the moments that create the deepest longest lasting memories.

So I was trying to help out J by working on a certain website. What a mistake that was. It’s the most wretchidly time consuming, boring and lack luster event of my life. I only wish I had never agreed to it, for between housework and school work, my only free time has gone the way of this super crappy editing gig.

My friend O was right. fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk why didnt I listen to him?!?!

I have this set of litterature books pertaining to my english course, they came together in a set of four, tucked into a little paper book case. I bought them used from my college bookstore, half the price of what they would have been new. They were sealed with shrinkwrap so I wasnt really able to leaf through the book to examine thier current condition. It wasnt until I started using them on a somewhat daily basis that I began to notice something peculiar about the books.

They have a strong smell of perfume but not a perfume that a young student would wear, this scent is more mature, intense and intriguing.

I am so curious to meet the lady that owned these books before I took them into possession.

There are bits of handwriting on different pages, very elegant it almost has the look of a calligraphy pen. I imagine this woman to be fairly old, old enough to have learned cursive in elementary school and matronly enough to still use it.

It is apparent that the poetry book out of the set of four has gotten the most use. It has the strongest smell and its pages have been worn and broken in.

My mind wanders over all the possibilities, all the types of women she could be, different ages, backgrounds, its ultimatly endless.

There is some part of me that loves being the first person to ever read a book, open it, leaf through its pages, gently crease its spine….but then theres another part of me that equally is intrigued by a book that can tell a tale soley through is appearance…or in this case its scent.

I found eight grey hairs tonight…and I got em all. And I am never gonna see one ever again. Time for this girl to start coloring her hair. End of story.

It takes a lot of gusto to accept the fact that the shopping cart you have selected at the supermarket has an obnoxiously squeaky wheel and that you decide to keep using it anyway.

Most people walk five feet, hear the screetching rattle and turn right around to swap it for another cart. Nine times out of ten I would swap it too, sure its annoying but thats not the reason for the swap, the reason no one wants that damn thing is because it draws the attention of everyone in a 5 mile radius.

Today I was running around all over town doing errands, in the fastest time possible. All I wanted to do with my afternoon was finish up some homework and take a nap, but unless I wanted to brush my teeth with baking soda it was imperative that I go out.

My last stop of the day was the grocery store, list in hand, I headed through the parking lot and grabbed the first available shopping cart. I passed through the sliding glass doors, I was off. I was on a mission, which normally isnt my style when it comes to doing my grocery shopping, but today I had an agenda. I noticed that one of the wheels had a bit of a pull to it, which required a bit more force then usual, but I didnt mind. My heart skipped a beat when I realised that wasnt my carts only problem, it also had the dreaded SQUEAKY WHEEL. I thought to myself “just go”, so isle by isle people looked at me in horror, wondering what I must have done to that poor cart to induce such a horrid amount of shreaking.

It was then that I realized, a person needs to have a hell of a lot of self confidence to force an unwilling cart through a supermarket while it cries bloody murder.

I immediatly stood up taller, fixed my hair, held my shoulders back and my head up high. I made it look like I chose that cart specifically for its squeaky wheel. I “worked” that cart, up and down the isles beaming of confidence, and making that cart “look good”. People still looked but this time they were looking at me more then they were looking at the cart.

It was a very empowering experience and I higly suggest that the next time you get the cart with the squeaky wheel that insead of returning it, you keep it. Turn that uncomfortable situation into a fun, exhilarating celebration of the enjoyment that can be found in the lame experiences that life has to offer.

Just like there are are phases of the moon, I go through many phases too. Some might find this annoying (ahem my significant other) but it keeps me interested and excited. I have many interests as well as favorites, but they vary depending on what mood I happen to be in.

To understand this better, heres an example of the past month and the phases I have gone into and out of.

3 weeks ago I was really into Futurama the series. I watched episodes multiple times daily, in the morning, afternoon, evening and late evening. I even bought some of the seasons on dvd to satisfy my urge to watch the show. I have since stopped watching it, but dont get me wrong, I still LOVE the show, I am just not “as” into it as I was 3 weeks ago.

2 weeks ago I was in my “oh my god, I cant get enough of these Hersheys Kissables” phase. I had stumbled upon bags and bags of the candy coated mini-kisses at Target when I was doing my halloween shopping. I’ve had them in the past but these ones were for Fall and were appropriatly colored only orange and yellow…a must have for any festive household. I bought a bag and started to snack, nibble and scarf down these crunchy yummy treats. Before I knew it, I was into my third bag, eating them with lunch, for snack and in the evening while studying. They became my homework snack and I ate them and ate them, until I could not eat anymore. Now I still enjoy them, but can hardly imagine eating them multiple times daily. I was also very into Lisa Loeb last week, listening to her greatest hits album all day, everyday. The songs are still suck in my head, but I love every verse. I am just not listening to it as much this week.

Last week while grocery shopping, I was in the “cookie, cracker, snack isle” searching for a new cracker. Over the summer I had been really into the Ritz Baked Chips and ate them with pineapple cream cheese. As per my usual, I’m currently not eating them anymore, and felt it was time for a change in my cracker selection. I was amazed at the selection of Triscuit crackers, they had new flavors and loads of choices, way more then I had ever remembered, so I thought to myself “well I havent had these in a while” and that was all it took. I am onto my third box of Reduced Fat Triscuits, munching away, before lunch, before dinner and before bed. Currently I am still enjoying thier salty, crunchy, wheaty taste.

Those are just a few examples that might it easier to understand what I’m talking about when I refer to my “phases”. Here are some more fun examples .

Shows like Big Brother for instance are perfect for someone like me, the show airs around the clock for three months straight, then disappears for 9 monts of the year. It lets me indulge heavly, giving me just what I need, then giving me enough time to miss it and prepare myself for another summer of intense drama, competition and betrayl.

Semesters at school are great for people who go through phases, because you are introduced to new people, new subjects and a new schedule, but it doesnt last so long that I end up hating it, it seems to last just long enough. I can then move on to new people, new classes and a new work load.

J thinks that I tend to “over do” “things” but I dont think I’m the kind of person that can “do” “things” in moderation. I am an intense person, with a lot of passion and I love going from one favorite to the next, it keeps life fresh and new. Some of the many things I will never get sick of is my family and my cats. I have a history of going through phases with friends, leaving me with no childhood friends, but its that very reason that I have met so many people and have such amazing memories.

My life is like a bag of balloons: I take a balloon out of the bag, use all of my energy to fill it, then set it off into the wind to float away. When I’m ready I move on to a new balloon, all the while enjoying each experience and the beauty each balloon creates.

I suggest that maybe phases arent a bad thing, just a different way of living life, having experiences and creating your reality. Thats just something to think about, more for J then for anyone else.

The 13th of each month is said to an inauspicious (unlucky) day on which to embark on a new project, set out on a journey, or start anything new, including marriage.

So what makes Friday the 13th a day many look upon with fear, is that it is twice as unlucky if the 13th of the month happens to fall on a Friday.

Some history on the number 13. This is the number that holds the most widespread numerical superstition to date. This belief was attributed to the 13 people present at the Last Supper. It also stems from the 13 members that form a witches covenant. Forming the belief that 13 represents the devil and could also be him in a tangable form. The number 13 is seen to be a sign of death, misfortune and distruction.

Friday has many reasons for being a superstitious day, many steming from Biblical references to Good Friday and the death brought upon that day.

My suggestion is to continue on with your same old buiness for today and save any new endeavors for tomorrow.

Brides unless you have a very good reason, today is not a good day for a wedding. The only day worse for a wedding would be if Friday fell on the 13th of May.

Babies born today are safe from any misfortune or any curses of bad luck and are believed to prosper in anything they begin on the same day in later life.

So heres to a new beginning…….tomorrow.

That I’m back in school, I havent posted in a month. My last entry feels like it was both ages ago and just the other day. Over the past month I’ve attended every class, I havent even had one abscence, which I am proud of. My tree is turning another new leaf I am presently sitting in bed, eating out of a box of cereal and listening to classical music which is streaming over the WiFi into the bedroom over J’s phone. Its an odd setup yet quite relaxing.

In school we just started the poetry section of my english class, many loathe it, I love it. Any form of self expression that doesnt take up more then a few paragraphs, is top in my book. A poem we read the other day had only six lines to it and when asked to explain the topic of the poem, my what seemed at the time to be a bizarre answer was exactly right. I thought to myself, I’m pretty damn good lol. My other classes are just run of the mill. My oceanography class went from being really interesting to being deep into a three day lecture on the salinity of the ocean *roll of the eyes*. I’ve recently got some papers, projects and tests back…all A’s I might add .

Wow this classical music thing might actually be working, I am getting really sleepy. It could be the fact that I slept 4 hours tops, but I’ll just think its the music, it’ll make J happy. I think this is me turning in for the night. I promise to be here more, and to devote more time to you. I feel a poem coming on

While I was blogging I burned my pizza. It was gonna be sooooo good too!! I made the mistake of trying to crisp it just a little more but instead I turned it into leather. I ate it anyway, but it was not so good. I love pizza expeically when I dont have to pick of the burnt cheese bubbles and eat it like its a chicken wing. I’ve never eaten a chicken wing before but I imagine picking away at that pizza was pretty much the same as picking away at a wing. SoBe normally a cheese-aholic looked at it and turned up his nose. I set off the smoke detector and smelled up my appartment, so all in all it was a pretty crappy lunch lol.