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| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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The Demon Who Finds A Way To Get What She Wants
Turns out that I was not The Disciplined Demon yesterday. I couldn't even get my tired ass to the gym. Everytime I thought of going, I just felt tired tired tired. I think my gym schedule is going to go down a day, to four days a week instead of five. I ended up doing some non-shopping yesterday instead. Max and I went to K-Mart, where, a few weeks ago I stopped to buy coffee filters (not wanting to drive all the way to Target). During that visit, I had a Valley moment in the clothing department when I looked at a shirt with "Viva La Vida!" written on a ribbon across the chest and thought, "A-la! I'd totally wear that shirt!" I just shook it off though, remembering that though you can take the girl out of the Valley, you can't take the Valley out of the girl but that the girl can act all uppity like she thinks she's all better than you because you came from the Valley, right? Anyway, the point of that is that I didn't buy the shirt. But yesterday, I took Max to visit the shirt and I decided to, you know, try it on. Well, wouldn't you know it: It looked good on me. Damn good. But I didn't buy it. Because, you know, I'm trying to be all professional and shit what with going to work in a not-in-the-Valley workplace. But last night, the brain kept on going and going and going. And finally I came up with a reason to buy it. I figure, since I'm going into the sciences but that I studied literature, that I need an A. Duran Milton Conference Memorial Outfit. (And I am so not going to explain any of that, because if you know me, you won't need an explanation, and if you don't know me, then no explanation in the world is going to satisfy you.) And that outfit is going to be based on the "Viva La Vida!" K-mart shirt. Which I am on my way to buy this morning, after posting this entry. "It's the idolatress in me." --A. Duran, speaking to me at the Milton Conference of having surreptitiously kissed a book that she was expressly not even allowed to touch with ungloved hands at the Folger Library. (Of course, I vowed to love her from that minute onward. And to kiss books at will.) Updated to add: Dreamt about the Good Professor last night. I was in a classroom with her and several other students, and she had to illustrate some point of her lecture by going outside and sketching pictures of medicine men on these big canvases that were hanging in the hall outside the classroom. Well, none of the other students would leave the room, but I went out and watched as she sketched the most amazing pictures. They were colorful and intuitive and alive on the canvas. I said to her, "Professor! These are really good!" And she said, "Yeah! Yeah!" in that excited, gleeful way of hers. I remember loving her. I still love her. And part of my now aching heart is that I still love her. I still have that love for her that I can't get back to. What can I do? What will I do to get it back?
More lies:
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