they say nostalgia involves suffering for the past. hot damn, i wish the garbage can was closer!
So what has the Penny been up to?
Absolutely nothing.
And when I say nothing, I mean nothing.
Well, I have done a little bit of sorting out my stuff in my room for the big move. I get to the States on October 17th and move into a hotel the following day. It's quite amazing how much SHIT I have accumulated over the past 14 years after going through my room. Cheap jewelry from Claire's I've never worn. Birthday presents from.... my birth. I found some hoochie shirts I wore at 15. God damn, those are some skimpy things. How did my father let me out of the house with those things? And more importantly, how did I ever develop a sense of modesty later on? There's this one pink shirt I would wear underneath my uniform that only covered my breasts and two inches below. As soon as school was finished for the day, I would strip off the blue uniform dress shirt and expose my nubile torso to the world along with a pleated skirt and knee socks. Add the rebellious and glittery belly button ring. Every 50 year old pervert's fantasy.
I also uncovered my pearly, plastic, playful pony with pink hair. Unfortunately for the mare, I had melted her legs off during my early experimentation with pyromania. She never complained. The silence with which she suffered her torture may have caused my fondness for exerting more brute force until getting a reaction. Yeah, Latin tempers!
Upon uncovering an old 3 feet tall doll decked out in Victorian Christmas gear and an electric candle, I remembered a time when I looked forward to Christmas. I mean the Christmas where the crazy nuances of your relatives are happily ignored as they shower you in gifts. A little bead kit to fashion your own bracelets. The ever popular lab kit to turn rocks into gems. The newest physically distorted Barbie to aspire to! The awkward homemade sweaters which you wear for 20 seconds to please the donor as a rash slowly develops on your neck. Playing (*cough* teasing) the cousins and trying to figure out which adult is the most pleasing target for absolute annoyance. And the food! Heaps of homemade Polish cooking a la potluck during a time when food contributed to your height, not your weight. So eat up, fellow Kapulka! The holiday cheer is guaranteed when you're young!
The most moving discovery was finding my Peter Rabbit collection and one of the original editions of The Wind in the Willows. Those were some of the first books I ever read on my own. I was starting to feel something that resembles emotion when my mother walked in, looked over my shoulder, and exclaimed: "You hold onto those for your own children." Ahem, way to kill my buzz.
Carl and I are doing quite well considering the distance. There has always been a distance, this one was just considerably longer in both time and space. He has agreed to come to Shelly's wedding. I think he's realized that I mostly want him there to keep me from bludgeoning the familial units with my ever-so-quaintly crafted, too high for practical usage, shiny black heels. We've started plotting a trip to Madrid and Paris in January. It seems we're never content unless we're in a foreign metropolis. I'm quite happy that we're having a perfectly functional relationship without the tedium and minuscule details that plague relationships. Thus, the Penny is pleased.
Absolutely nothing.
And when I say nothing, I mean nothing.
Well, I have done a little bit of sorting out my stuff in my room for the big move. I get to the States on October 17th and move into a hotel the following day. It's quite amazing how much SHIT I have accumulated over the past 14 years after going through my room. Cheap jewelry from Claire's I've never worn. Birthday presents from.... my birth. I found some hoochie shirts I wore at 15. God damn, those are some skimpy things. How did my father let me out of the house with those things? And more importantly, how did I ever develop a sense of modesty later on? There's this one pink shirt I would wear underneath my uniform that only covered my breasts and two inches below. As soon as school was finished for the day, I would strip off the blue uniform dress shirt and expose my nubile torso to the world along with a pleated skirt and knee socks. Add the rebellious and glittery belly button ring. Every 50 year old pervert's fantasy.
I also uncovered my pearly, plastic, playful pony with pink hair. Unfortunately for the mare, I had melted her legs off during my early experimentation with pyromania. She never complained. The silence with which she suffered her torture may have caused my fondness for exerting more brute force until getting a reaction. Yeah, Latin tempers!
Upon uncovering an old 3 feet tall doll decked out in Victorian Christmas gear and an electric candle, I remembered a time when I looked forward to Christmas. I mean the Christmas where the crazy nuances of your relatives are happily ignored as they shower you in gifts. A little bead kit to fashion your own bracelets. The ever popular lab kit to turn rocks into gems. The newest physically distorted Barbie to aspire to! The awkward homemade sweaters which you wear for 20 seconds to please the donor as a rash slowly develops on your neck. Playing (*cough* teasing) the cousins and trying to figure out which adult is the most pleasing target for absolute annoyance. And the food! Heaps of homemade Polish cooking a la potluck during a time when food contributed to your height, not your weight. So eat up, fellow Kapulka! The holiday cheer is guaranteed when you're young!
The most moving discovery was finding my Peter Rabbit collection and one of the original editions of The Wind in the Willows. Those were some of the first books I ever read on my own. I was starting to feel something that resembles emotion when my mother walked in, looked over my shoulder, and exclaimed: "You hold onto those for your own children." Ahem, way to kill my buzz.
Carl and I are doing quite well considering the distance. There has always been a distance, this one was just considerably longer in both time and space. He has agreed to come to Shelly's wedding. I think he's realized that I mostly want him there to keep me from bludgeoning the familial units with my ever-so-quaintly crafted, too high for practical usage, shiny black heels. We've started plotting a trip to Madrid and Paris in January. It seems we're never content unless we're in a foreign metropolis. I'm quite happy that we're having a perfectly functional relationship without the tedium and minuscule details that plague relationships. Thus, the Penny is pleased.