june 21st 2005
hail, fellow. well met.
40 days and 40 nights since last you heard from the likes of me. i’ve been off and about with many matters, which has stunted the growth of this site as of late.
no more. i’m back.
and i’m going to talk about shoes.
there’s nothing more magical than finding the perfect pair of shoes when you weren’t even remotely looking for them. last friday on a free afternoon, sky so clear it took my breath away, ben folds delightfully, surprisingly flowing through my speakers, dinger (my confidence-challenged car) guided itself to a stop at a place i never new existed.
i’m game. of course i am. there’s shopping involved.
wandering with purpose down the aisles, a buckle catches my eye. intrigued, i move closer. and there they are. my shoes. i mean, really mine. it was inconceivable to me that anyone else could even think about owning these shoes but me. ah. wedge heel. and on sale.
this naturally led to the purchase of clearance bling. a girl's gotta accessorize, right? i have never been able to resist anything bright and sparkly, and at $1.74 the price was well within my rationalization range.
this is my fourth day wearing them. normally if i find something i like this much i get two, but these were the only pair. so i have before me two paths. do i save them for special occasions, be careful where i step and make them last? or do i slide them on whenever i want, jumping into god knows what and loving them ‘til they’re frayed and falling apart?
so i guess i’m talking about shoes.
i guess i’m also talking about life. love. ah hell, everything we humans are capable of.
i have a feeling they’ll be back on my feet tomorrow.
june 30th 2005
so i’m still wearing my shoes. aha, you think. i’ve got her number now. she’s an obsessive/compulsive shoe fetishist with a penchant for booze and an all-consuming lust for sensory satisfaction.
to which i would reply:
you say that like it’s a bad thing.
i’m in the middle of cleaning my apartment. i mean really cleaning. and there’s nothing like a deep-scrubbing-wall-washing-carpet-treating kind of cleaning to illuminate you to yourself.
redundant? unnecessary? perhaps. perhaps. but the insight gained is always intriguing.
for example:
1. i am the possessor of more candles than i could burn in three lifetimes. shocking only in the fact that i’ve made a concerted effort to not buy any more, but they somehow keep appearing.
2. i am way more anal than i had previously thought (i caught myself categorizing the books on my shelf by title, color, size and genre for chrissake). shocking only in the fact that anyone who’s ridden in my car of late would disagree about my organizational abilities.
3. i have the disturbing tendency to save every piece of paper i come across. mail i received five years ago, scraps with some forgotten person’s phone number, assembly instructions for something i no longer own, and on and on and on. not shocking at all. the written word is precious, even if it’s only informing me that i’ve been pre-approved.
i find myself gleefully exhausted after each cleaning project, flush with success as i get closer to my goal.
finding out the true color of my carpet, or finding myself?
it’s all in there somewhere, and i’ve got my rubber gloves on.
i’m goin’ back in. |
