I should have left for the gym over an hour ago.
But as you can PLAINLY see--
I have, however, been working on my class schedule for next semester.
It's going to be a huge adjustment from this time.
Looks like American Civilization and Intro to Literary Criticism or some bullshit.
Now, here's my gripe:
I could fit both classes on the same days if it weren't for the idiocy of my school district.
We have "short day" on Fridays, and half the time they have it on Thursday cuz there's no school on Friday.
I sweart to god, they've only been in session about 43% of the time so far.
so the problem with that is that I would have to skip my second class on almost every Friday.
Unless I can find someone to pick up my kids and chill with them for about an hour every Friday.
I think I might have to hire Mona to whoop my school district's ass.
Oh, by the way...
I officially have not written a single word for Nanowrimo yet.
I really thought I would this year...
I also thought my husband was going to be travelling a lot,
and he hasn't.
which I'll take over free time with which to write ANYDAY.
but I am still going to start a novel as soon as I can.
maybe I should drop out of school.
I know, I know.
but I really wish I had a nanny or a chef or a genie...
ok, so I've discovered something that made my heart flutter like nothing has since Bo Bice first stepped onto the American Idol stage.
that is this:
my ultimate dream car is within my price range.
I mean, obviously the truly sleek and elegant ones are still morethan my husband would be willing to spend on a car (although not necessarily outside our budget),
and the brand new ones are even a little more than he wants to part with.
I could get a 2002 or 2003 Jaguar for the same as I was going to pay for a 2001 or 2002 Volvo Station wagon.
(yes, the volvo remains 2nd on my list...I don't know why I love them so much, I just do.)
Just the word "Jaguar", all capitalized and dripping with leather and a leaping hood ornament makes me light headed.
can you picture ME in a Jag???
I feel like an imposter just thinking about it.
I guess I could take a bunch of nude shots of myself splayed across the hood and I might be able to reconcile the idea.
that was a joke.
I felt I should clarify that after the warm reaction I got to yesterday's porn discussion.
This post sucks like a toothless hooker.
it feels like friday.
I have shit to do.
go to the store for last minute seafood feast ingredients.
test drive CARS.
I think I'll close my eyes...
I see myself sitting in the shadowy corner of a pub.
somewhere small, like the places back home.
maybe a fire place, maybe a couple of pool tables.
a small stage, with a stool.
a man with a guitar.
my foot tapping, my fingers wrapping around the dewey glass, tracing shapes on the side.
there is a passion contained in rooms like that,
a depth of feeling and an ability to see all the way around the world with bare eyes.
but it is lost on the patrons; drunk and stupid, stupid or drunk.
that soul on the stage is like gossamer, it could be plucked out and wrapped around and spun into a tapestry...
but most don't even know it's there.
the crushing of a heart against ribs is mistaken for plain sadness,
the dance of the fingers over strings is seen as a mere physical motion instead of the pulsing of pain into the air.
the notes and syllables wash over me and leave me chilled or breathless or on my feet.
My cheeks flush, my eyes grow darker and shine.
Have a happy Thanksgiving, Americans, and a great week the rest of you.
Don't know when I'll be back...