race traitor
Sleepy. I want to go home and finish reading the Dispossessed and watch The Princess and the Warrior before tomorrow when Goodbye Lenin! is scheduled to arrive. I found my first grey hair in August 2003 in the bathroom at that warehouse job I hated. Xina, you remember? The girl I thought was beautiful? Turned out she wasn't. Who moved to New Mexico last year and I guess we're still friends... At the time she told me not to sweat it in characteristic I want to be down white scenester kid fashion. I did though. Then I found two more last month. My skin is drier than it used to be, and you can see the pores. I remember back when I didn't have stretch marks on my belly. Now I call them proof. Of what? I don't know. But I'm ambivalent about them, just as I am about my flabby upper arms. The grey hair though, that's got to stop. My guilty pleasure is what if g-d was one of us Joan of Arcadia. I met a man in the elevator just now who inquired about all the Holocaust and Bible books I was carrying, required reading for my summer classes. He remarked that it, the Bible was fascinating stuff. I felt sheepish and blurted out how I wanted to learn Arabic so I could read the Qu'ran in the original, too. I wonder why? Lidia will have to accept three quarters of a double-spaced page from me. I'm going home.