Mrtl tagged me.
The 23rd entry meme has been around long enough that I've done it before, and my 23rd entry was made in the wee hours of September 11, 2001--hours before I came to the office and my perspective was irrevocably altered. The fifth sentence is kinda lame, though meaningful for me; it's about how the Commodores song "Easy" reminds me of being awake long after everyone else in the house has fallen asleep and how lonely and trapped I felt as a teenager.
The next entry I made was on the 14th, after seeing a silly rock band, which made it possible to laugh again. I don't think I've ever been in such shell-shock before or since; the abrupt entry and exit from that mindset set it apart from the massive depression that similarly tweaked my mind throughout my teens and 20's. (Early 20's? Yes; therapy really started to help quite quickly and I started when I was probably 23.)
So here's the fifth sentence of my twenty-fourth post:
I will attempt to describe sometime soon the impression this band, playing Madonna covers in a rather 80's-metal fashion, made on me.
ETA for some clarification: the rest of this post is modern, as in, written today about current events.
Now the reason the song Easy makes me so melancholy is it played as part of a commercial for Sunday brunch at some local Spokane eatery. The commercial was just food, syrup pouring over french toast, cinnamon rolls with raisins out of the oven, and the restaurant's logo. But we never went out for brunch--we didn't have the money and we all slept way too late, particularly the hungover mom and stepdad. The commercial played after Saturday Night Live ended, a time when I was usually sad that the show was over and everyone was asleep. Now if I'm awake and at home then, I'm annoyed that I'm up too late and it's Sunday and Monday morning work is right around the corner -- but often, brunch is also right around the corner.
Last Saturday night, Seth and I went to the Mars Bar to see an old friend play. I was very moody beforehand, feeling plump and angry and awful, and had to be dragged out. The bar was okay--some friends were there, I got nice compliments on my writing (a seriously helpful esteem booster), the music was better than I expected, and some really cool people were there. But my fickle girlfriend sensitivity reared her ugly head: I freaked out about Seth saying something really dumb to the female guitar player. And his old buddy Mary was running sound. So I thought the "issue" of fearing Seth will get bored with stupid writer girl who never wants to go out and find some cool musician girlfriend instead is totally not dead. Fucking hell. So we left and my car seemed for a moment like it wasn't going to take us home. But then it did and we talked through my crap and went to bed just fine.
On Sunday I woke up and asked Seth if he was mad at me for all the stupid things I'd said last night. No, he wasn't. He really wasn't, and he really doesn't want to sleep with the stupid rocker girls (note: this whole issue is complicated by the fact that I like women musicians. I want to see more of them. Maybe I want to be one, except that I can't sing and use my free time for writing crap like this and knitting crap like that shawl instead of practicing guitar.). Then I realized that in my anger, I'd forgotten to close out our tab at the bar.
Good thing I noticed the signs about their new brunch menu on the door though. We got up and had coffee and split a Luna bar and rode over and picked up my debit card and had a nice brunch. Not only that, but the leader (I think) of Mandonna (if they still exist) lives in the apartment building above the bar, and came downstairs for brunch while we were outside enjoying our own.
We also rode to the Japanese Garden in the Arboretum, then back out to Ballard and to Golden Gardens, where we sat on the sand and watched the water sparkle and the people pass the time. It was the best Sunday in recent memory.
Then it was the workweek again. My period has started and I'm trying to get lots of vitamin juices and healthy snacks and I've decided definitely to join one of the gyms in my neighborhood. But will I join the ultra expensive one with the pool and 24-hour access (except Saturday night through Sunday at 8 am) or the affordable one with lots of classes but closes a bit early on weekends? Oh the suspense! Well, I don't know the actual cost of the expensive one yet, so I don't know if I can afford it. I'll be sure to report back.
The next entry I made was on the 14th, after seeing a silly rock band, which made it possible to laugh again. I don't think I've ever been in such shell-shock before or since; the abrupt entry and exit from that mindset set it apart from the massive depression that similarly tweaked my mind throughout my teens and 20's. (Early 20's? Yes; therapy really started to help quite quickly and I started when I was probably 23.)
So here's the fifth sentence of my twenty-fourth post:
I will attempt to describe sometime soon the impression this band, playing Madonna covers in a rather 80's-metal fashion, made on me.
ETA for some clarification: the rest of this post is modern, as in, written today about current events.
Now the reason the song Easy makes me so melancholy is it played as part of a commercial for Sunday brunch at some local Spokane eatery. The commercial was just food, syrup pouring over french toast, cinnamon rolls with raisins out of the oven, and the restaurant's logo. But we never went out for brunch--we didn't have the money and we all slept way too late, particularly the hungover mom and stepdad. The commercial played after Saturday Night Live ended, a time when I was usually sad that the show was over and everyone was asleep. Now if I'm awake and at home then, I'm annoyed that I'm up too late and it's Sunday and Monday morning work is right around the corner -- but often, brunch is also right around the corner.
Last Saturday night, Seth and I went to the Mars Bar to see an old friend play. I was very moody beforehand, feeling plump and angry and awful, and had to be dragged out. The bar was okay--some friends were there, I got nice compliments on my writing (a seriously helpful esteem booster), the music was better than I expected, and some really cool people were there. But my fickle girlfriend sensitivity reared her ugly head: I freaked out about Seth saying something really dumb to the female guitar player. And his old buddy Mary was running sound. So I thought the "issue" of fearing Seth will get bored with stupid writer girl who never wants to go out and find some cool musician girlfriend instead is totally not dead. Fucking hell. So we left and my car seemed for a moment like it wasn't going to take us home. But then it did and we talked through my crap and went to bed just fine.
On Sunday I woke up and asked Seth if he was mad at me for all the stupid things I'd said last night. No, he wasn't. He really wasn't, and he really doesn't want to sleep with the stupid rocker girls (note: this whole issue is complicated by the fact that I like women musicians. I want to see more of them. Maybe I want to be one, except that I can't sing and use my free time for writing crap like this and knitting crap like that shawl instead of practicing guitar.). Then I realized that in my anger, I'd forgotten to close out our tab at the bar.
Good thing I noticed the signs about their new brunch menu on the door though. We got up and had coffee and split a Luna bar and rode over and picked up my debit card and had a nice brunch. Not only that, but the leader (I think) of Mandonna (if they still exist) lives in the apartment building above the bar, and came downstairs for brunch while we were outside enjoying our own.
We also rode to the Japanese Garden in the Arboretum, then back out to Ballard and to Golden Gardens, where we sat on the sand and watched the water sparkle and the people pass the time. It was the best Sunday in recent memory.
Then it was the workweek again. My period has started and I'm trying to get lots of vitamin juices and healthy snacks and I've decided definitely to join one of the gyms in my neighborhood. But will I join the ultra expensive one with the pool and 24-hour access (except Saturday night through Sunday at 8 am) or the affordable one with lots of classes but closes a bit early on weekends? Oh the suspense! Well, I don't know the actual cost of the expensive one yet, so I don't know if I can afford it. I'll be sure to report back.