revelations and other ordinary things
I've been dreaming over the past few years that I'm back at FALA, taking classes just for the hell of it, as if this is something 20-year-old graduates who are supposed to have moved on by now do all the time. Sometimes it's only that, sometimes it's being back under the thumb of Levin, usually in a musical, and then it's always accompanied by such a dreadful sense of calm, sad disappointment from him. At me. Damn that man!
So I was talking to Mom, and the job she had applied for is definitely NOT for her. Betsy, remember those articles you found that described horrible boarding schools where parents sent their kids when they weren't acting "Christian" enough? Well, this one is on a much smaller scale, and it's not Christian, but it's right under our noses.
Mom before interview: "A school for emotionally traumatized girls that needs an art teacher? Sign me up!"
Mom after interview: "Uhhh...kthxbye." *shudder*
So that possibility is gone, but she's still determined to no longer be poor.
Or fat. When I'm back in the house, we're going to Curves together or I'll beat her over the head with a doggy squeaky toy until we do.
And yeah, I have 0 pounds to lose (my doctor said I "finally" got up to a normal weight for my height), but muscle weighs more than fat, and I'd really like to be able to fit back into my gorgeous green corduroy pants that I spent a magical $5 on. Plus, I like working out, once I've gotten past my own damn procrastination and excuses.
Her motivation is looking fabulous at Sarah's wedding. And though she'd never say it out loud, I know she doesn't want to give The Wicked Stepmother any reason to look down on her. And yes, we all know on a Holier-than-thou level that we shouldn't give a flying fuck what she [stepmom] thinks (and we don't), but on a selfish, superficial level, we all want her to rile and writhe in her secret soul. For any reason. :) One of the nice things about being the Maid of Honor is that I'll be so busy, I don't have to say two words to her if I don't want to.
It occurs to me that some time, possibly within the next five years or so, I will have to attend my respective grandmothers' funerals. No one I've ever been close to has died, and I have no idea how I'll handle it. Granted, I've never been especially close to either of these women, but, I mean, come on -- they're my grandmas. Both of my grandpas died before I was born (which is such a shame, as I've been told that I would have loved both of them), from alcoholism and Parkinson's respectively, and now my grandmas are deteriorating. They've both lived a very long time, considering all the health problems they've had, but still. It's just weird to think about.
YAY for rereading the Chronicles of Narnia. It's a lot easier for me to picture in my mind now than when I was eleven. BOO for homework and having to go grocery shopping.
So I was talking to Mom, and the job she had applied for is definitely NOT for her. Betsy, remember those articles you found that described horrible boarding schools where parents sent their kids when they weren't acting "Christian" enough? Well, this one is on a much smaller scale, and it's not Christian, but it's right under our noses.
Mom before interview: "A school for emotionally traumatized girls that needs an art teacher? Sign me up!"
Mom after interview: "Uhhh...kthxbye." *shudder*
So that possibility is gone, but she's still determined to no longer be poor.
Or fat. When I'm back in the house, we're going to Curves together or I'll beat her over the head with a doggy squeaky toy until we do.
And yeah, I have 0 pounds to lose (my doctor said I "finally" got up to a normal weight for my height), but muscle weighs more than fat, and I'd really like to be able to fit back into my gorgeous green corduroy pants that I spent a magical $5 on. Plus, I like working out, once I've gotten past my own damn procrastination and excuses.
Her motivation is looking fabulous at Sarah's wedding. And though she'd never say it out loud, I know she doesn't want to give The Wicked Stepmother any reason to look down on her. And yes, we all know on a Holier-than-thou level that we shouldn't give a flying fuck what she [stepmom] thinks (and we don't), but on a selfish, superficial level, we all want her to rile and writhe in her secret soul. For any reason. :) One of the nice things about being the Maid of Honor is that I'll be so busy, I don't have to say two words to her if I don't want to.
It occurs to me that some time, possibly within the next five years or so, I will have to attend my respective grandmothers' funerals. No one I've ever been close to has died, and I have no idea how I'll handle it. Granted, I've never been especially close to either of these women, but, I mean, come on -- they're my grandmas. Both of my grandpas died before I was born (which is such a shame, as I've been told that I would have loved both of them), from alcoholism and Parkinson's respectively, and now my grandmas are deteriorating. They've both lived a very long time, considering all the health problems they've had, but still. It's just weird to think about.
YAY for rereading the Chronicles of Narnia. It's a lot easier for me to picture in my mind now than when I was eleven. BOO for homework and having to go grocery shopping.