Secret Pop

Jan 13, 2004

Bathtime Bubbles

I took a late, long, hot bath tonight. I'm still pink and clammy from it. Is it odd to emerge from a bath at 3 A.M.? I suppose it makes sense for me. My nights overlap most people's days.

I sort of lazily discovered today that -- if you knew where to look and had the right password -- you could see some rather revealing and possibly scandalous photos of me. Fortunately, you would have to know where to look, and you don't. I have no objections to the scandal of photography, even when it involves me, however I like to be in control of who sees what. I'm not worried. Except when it occurs to me that it's possible my eighth grade algebra teacher might have access. How can you ever know these things?

It was a bit of a maelstrom, today was. But I'm all right, I think. I miss certain aspects of how my days used to be. Elements that once owned and structured my time. The great expanses of time I am able to squander if I will are daunting in their vastness. Fortunately, I am not good at wasting time. Unless I'm accompanied in it. When I've got the day to myself, I am industrious and driven. But I have no way of giving myself a break or a pat on the back. I just keep going until there is somewhere else I have to be. I'm going to be interrupted in my industry a great deal in the near future. I have all sorts of a week ahead of me and am glad to be on my way to it. Sometimes, after many many martinis with olives in, it's nice to try the occasional lemon twist. Even an onion might make things interesting. Who can say.

Conan's wife gave birth to a baby girl. So, I guess he's OFFICIALLY off the market. Whatever. Congratulations, O'Brien family. I suppose. I will observe a brief period of mourning and then focus my attentions on someone equally unavailable. You know, if I ever did get to go out with one of my professed dreamboats, it would be the anticlimax of the century (albeit only a few years in). It would just plain murder my fantasy life if I found out that Hugh Grant had a crush on me. I'd still want to know, of course. I would just grieve the death of the dream.

Something I nearly forgot: I finally had a chance to watch my Criterion DVD of Sullivan's Travels, and I just have to say that it's wonderful. And I continue to be flattered that a judge at a speech and drama tournament I went to once compared me to Veronica Lake on account of the way my hair used to fall in front of one side of my face. At that tournament, I got caught with a number of my peers doing something we weren't supposed to. I think it had to do with curfew and boys in girls' quarters and possibly alcohol and even more possibly some form of card game where clothing was the currency. Anyway, the handful of us from my school who were caught were penalized by our faculty chaperone, and I was only able to take home second place instead of first in the humorous interpretation category or whichever one it was I would have won. It was a drag to later learn that our chaperone was the only one who penalized us in this fashion. The kids from the other schools who got caught were not penalized in points. Their chaperones seemed to actually want them to take home some awards. We were in a mountain resort in Japan, bunking in cabins and feeling all grown up. That was back when being away from home was always a magnificent adventure. I miss that feeling.

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