anything

worth doing is worth doing badly

-Jack Gilbert, "Failing and Flying" 

President's Day

President's Day
I walk to the bank to deposit some checks. When I reach the bank's doors there is a sign taped to the inside of the glass: The bank is closed. It is President's Day.

Bachelorette party

Technically, my friend is no longer a bachelorette; she got married in a small civil ceremony in January. Still, yesterday we drove to the spa in the cold to celebrate. First I got a massage, during which the Israeli masseuse informed me [does it count as informing if you already know?], over and over again, that my back is so very tenze. She "cupped" me [is that the verb form of "cupping"?], forty-five minutes of silicone suctioning the muscles in my back and shoulders. My muscles appreciated the release, but, in truth, part of me felt disappointed to be touched by silicone instead of human hands. Afterward she said, please drink lots of vater after this. She said, please come back in a few veeks. She said, your back is so very very tenze.

Next I got the first manicure of my life. I picked a color that I liked; incidentally, it was similar to the color on the nails of one of the contestants on this season of the Bachelor, which I had noticed a few weeks ago while she was on that week's group date with Ben. I am not usually wont to notice things like nail polish, so I thought it might be a sign, given that I noticed and appreciated said color of nail polish only a few weeks prior to getting the first manicure of my life. I selected the color with confidence and endured the manicurist filing my nails, the sound and the feel of it a mild form of torture. After that we got pedicures. I have only had four pedicures in my life and I can't say that this was the best, or even the second best, but there wasn't anything inherently wrong with it; it simply was not the best or even the second best pedicure that I've ever received in my life, but it was nice enough.

Because I have had four pedicures in my life, and because I had girlfriends in middle school, I am relatively familiar with having nail polish on my toe nails, and looking down to see ten dots of color gripping the floor at the edges of my feet, or swaddling them inside a winter sock, doesn't phase me much. What has required an adjustment in the 27 hours since I've left the spa is looking down at my hands and seeing perfectly painted and preserved dots of color at the edge of each of my fingers. On any given glance at my hands there is a fifty percent chance that I will think, hot damn those look good, and a fifty percent chance that I will think, what in the hell is that, get it off of me. I took a walk in the snow and was startled, upon entering the local CVS, where I stopped to buy toilet paper, to discover perfectly manicured hands sliding out of my mittens. I appreciated my manicured hands then, but perhaps partly because it did not at first seem to me that they were my hands. Instead it felt as if I was observing a different woman, one who is always well put together and consistently tends to the details of her character and appearance--including, but certainly not limited to, the condition of her hands--and I thought, my, that woman is so well put together, even here in this CVS in the middle of winter. 

For sale

For sale: Dairy-free protein shakes. 11 single-serving containers, unopened. Two flavors: chocolate and french vanilla. Must pick up. Will not hold for more than 24 hours.

Dear Diary (II)

Dear Diary (II)
Terrible news: I have just eaten my last gluten-free waffle.

allegory (III)

Allegory
Sometimes I worry that no one else will find that parenthetical as strikingly delightful as I do. When I think about it further I realize that every one of my favorite authors is a favorite precisely because they showed me what they thought was hard or peculiar or beautiful, and I saw it that way too. They did not write something that they knew for certain would be understood. They wrote, and they hoped someone would understand. And I did. If it is possible for these authors to be understood then that means it is categorically possible, according to the laws of logic, that someone, somewhere, might understand me and what I find hard, or peculiar, or beautiful.






New to sewing
If the blond woman sitting comfortably on the purple couch while smiling out from the box can use this sewing machine, surely it is worth spending my hard-earned money on the presumption that I can too.








Clearing snow
When clearing snow off the outdoor stairwell, particularly in 13-degree weather, it is best not to count how many steps still need to be cleared.

Trouble with the lamp
My favorite lamp is hand-molded clay, brown, topped with a beige, woven shade. Because this lamp is my favorite, I placed it on my bedside table the day that I moved into this apartment. That way I could use the lamp every day, which I desired to do, because it is my favorite lamp. The trouble is that something is wrong with the lamp, such that occasionally it fails to turn on. Sometimes it will turn on, but only after I have flicked the switch back and forth over and over again. Often I'll wiggle the switch side to side at the same time that I move it back and forth, which is sometimes more effective than simply sliding it in one direction at a time. Occasionally, despite all my efforts, the lamp simply will not turn on. Other times it will turn on, but I will have barely picked up my nighttime reading before it flicks off again. Using this lamp has become very frustrating, and I have been considering removing the lamp from my bedside table. The trouble is that I do not want to remove this lamp from my bedside table because it is my favorite lamp, and I desire to use it every day.







Two kinds of people
You have the Garth Brooks of the world, and then you have two burritos decked out in sequins.









One thing I like about The Lord of the Rings
Something as small as a butterfly or a forest weed can change the outcome in the battle of good versus evil.

What do small teeth signify?

I have been mildly obsessed with my teeth since February of last year, when that dickhole of a dentist shamed me for having imperfect teeth. I didn't realize that not wearing my retainer for seven years would make such an impact. My two front teeth were crooked before I had braces and they are crooked again now, although not so crooked as they were before I had braces. I've had a hard time coping with the realization that my teeth are crooked all over again, even after living through the hell that is wearing braces for two years of high school, ever since I visited that dickhole of a dentist, because I am particularly susceptible to shame. I have been trying to comfort myself by thinking that perhaps it is actually quite poetic that my teeth are finding their way home. I am trying to think that perhaps there is a life lesson in this about accepting yourself for who you are the first (or, in the case of my crooked teeth, the second) time around. I am thinking that maybe my crooked front teeth are part of me and therefore part of my charm.

Some days I really believe these thoughts; other days I have had some trouble believing them. In any case, I found this comforting:

• I. Crooked Teeth (especially bottom teeth): You see both sides of every issue. While you might be good at debate, you hate to be wrong, so you will often double check your facts before proceeding. Your challenge is that you hold yourself to impossibly high standards, weighing every decision. (I know a family who’s four kids are all involved in Speech and Debate… and their bottom teeth are very crooked)

-from Spiritual Seeker, Face Reading (Physiognomy): Smiles and Teeth