which historical figure do you most identify with? i don't.
which living person do you most admire? i admire many traits from many people but no one has embodied all of them at once. yet.
what is your greatest fear? helplessness.
what is the trait you most deplore in yourself? hypersensitivity.
what is the trait you most deplore in others? stagnation.
what is your greatest extravagance? happiness.
what do you consider the most overrated virtue? religion.
what do you dislike most about your appearance? my eyes cross when i'm tired.
which words or phrases do you most overuse? fuck, fucking, cunt.
what or who is the greatest love of your life? the concept of possibility.
which talent would you most like to have? to be bilingual in french. to tap dance. to be able to whistle.
what is your current state of mind? agitated.
if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? the ability to live in and appreciate the moment.
if you could change one thing about your family, what would it be? cessation of unsolicited criticism.
what do you consider your greatest achievement? being comfortable with my own mind.
if you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what would it be? a snowflake.
what is your most treasured possession? old letters, even if i never read them again.
what is your favorite occupation? looking at odd cells under the microscope. or finding moist things along the beach. or kicking leaves. or exploring abandoned buildings.
what is your most marked characteristic? moodiness.
what is the quality you most like in a man? passion.
what do you most value in your friends? patience.
who are your favorite writers? hawthorne, flaubert, vonnegut, camus.
who is your favorite hero of fiction? lady chatterley's lover.
what is it that you most dislike? people talking about physical flaws. apostrophe splices. the herd. fleas.
how would you like to die? with a conscious knowledge that i am.
what is your motto? if not now, when?
Friday, December 30, 2005
wednesday was the first day of everything, or: thank you, farris hassan
i'm in the manic state right now, stupidly optimistic, thrilled by the novelty. i got the apartment in seattle. it was one of those places that i wandered into and started immediately grinning. the other tenant is still living there so i wasn't able to review it as "mine"; instead i met with my landlord, an actor-director, in his apartment to pay him the deposit. all the units have bedrooms sequestered by tatami screens; his have been plastered over and painted blood red. he sat on a low couch under a window with a perfect view of the space needle; the grey afternoon light made it difficult to see anything other than cheekbones.
i left the building feeling like shit. shit about my choices, my marriage, the patterns i create, guilty, immature, delusional, living in the moment at the expense of 'practicality.' i lament the 'potential' most of all: all the things we could have done, should have done... but then i remember that we had three + years to meet said potential and never did. then i feel better- not better, but a bit more validated that i'm making the right decision.
after i left work on wednesday i drove around tacoma in the rain, waiting for the landlord to call me back... part of me hoped he wouldn't, so i could go back to my husband and my safe little life and laugh all this off as yet another "ooh boy, i got a little ahead of myself" episode. he called, i got off the phone and yelped with glee, and then stared at the rain, the suddenly wide-open world, and said 'fuck.' i am scared. i know i'll be fine, but i'm scared anyhow. i tend to push things out of my head for later, more stable perusal at times like these; whether this is detrimental remains to be seen. so i went to a concert. i was damp, dead-ass sober, and surrounded by a progressively inebriated crowd- including the forties couple in front of me, flagrantly licking and fondling one another when she wasn't waving her beer bottle around and miming the lyrics. it was a good time. as usual, i felt like an observer, but in a content, these-are-my-species sort of way.
on the front page of today's paper was a 16 year old from florida who flew to iraq without his family knowing. he was following the investigative reporting skills learned in high school journalism. i smiled widely as i read that. good for him. i didn't realize until just now that it rather illustrates the point of all this: optimism, naivete, action before reason: at least it leaves one with insights and experience, and that is never a bad thing. i would much rather fuck up and know that i tried.
i left the building feeling like shit. shit about my choices, my marriage, the patterns i create, guilty, immature, delusional, living in the moment at the expense of 'practicality.' i lament the 'potential' most of all: all the things we could have done, should have done... but then i remember that we had three + years to meet said potential and never did. then i feel better- not better, but a bit more validated that i'm making the right decision.
after i left work on wednesday i drove around tacoma in the rain, waiting for the landlord to call me back... part of me hoped he wouldn't, so i could go back to my husband and my safe little life and laugh all this off as yet another "ooh boy, i got a little ahead of myself" episode. he called, i got off the phone and yelped with glee, and then stared at the rain, the suddenly wide-open world, and said 'fuck.' i am scared. i know i'll be fine, but i'm scared anyhow. i tend to push things out of my head for later, more stable perusal at times like these; whether this is detrimental remains to be seen. so i went to a concert. i was damp, dead-ass sober, and surrounded by a progressively inebriated crowd- including the forties couple in front of me, flagrantly licking and fondling one another when she wasn't waving her beer bottle around and miming the lyrics. it was a good time. as usual, i felt like an observer, but in a content, these-are-my-species sort of way.
on the front page of today's paper was a 16 year old from florida who flew to iraq without his family knowing. he was following the investigative reporting skills learned in high school journalism. i smiled widely as i read that. good for him. i didn't realize until just now that it rather illustrates the point of all this: optimism, naivete, action before reason: at least it leaves one with insights and experience, and that is never a bad thing. i would much rather fuck up and know that i tried.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
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