Things I found in my bag today in class:
- a towel
- emergency rain poncho
- sushi take-out menu
- sweat band
What I was actually looking for:
I… I didn’t have a pencil. I’ve actually seriously lightened my bag-load since the summer. I took out the sewing kit and emergency overnight supplies. What will I do in case of zombies?
Who wants a word of the day? Pixilated! You think you know the word, but maybe you don’t? It means, like, bewildered, amusingly whimsical, slightly insane, or kind of drunk. The etymology is: like a pixie. It’s totally my new favourite word. “Capricious” can suck it. Anyway, I want to start using pixilated in conversations, but if discreet/discrete gives me troubles I’ll probably never get away with calling a drunk pixilated.
OK, am I the only one who sees all those terrible little green maggotty caterpillar-inchworm-things hanging from the trees? Because I walk down the street with people, and I feel like I’m the only one freaking out and dodging the little bastards, and then I feel like the lunatic, complaining about being surrounding by bugs, the bugs are all over me, holy crap, holy crap, etc. But they just fly around on the wind! And they hang under trees! Yes, explaining them sounds crazy, but they’re there, so why is no one freaking out with me?
So, my problem is Global Warming. Because it is Fall, and the stupid floating caterpillars are supposed to be a fucking Spring thing, but they are here, plaguing me while I wander blithely through the woods like a delightful wood nymph, with my laptop and kicky blazer, much like they had in Ancient Greece.
I got downright giddy during my last class of my twelve-hour Tuesday. I’d had a test the class before. A test. I haven’t done a test in years. Then a bunch of us sat around for 45 minutes while I tried to convince the rest that my apartment, full of alcohol, was within easy reach. I was (rightfully) ignored, but turns out I really didn’t need booze (do I ever?). I was running on an entertaining combination of social-life-staying-up-late-syndrome and nine-hours-of-class-itis. Bellydancing needs to kick it up a notch, sane me up a little or something. That or Knowledge Management needs to get way less hilarious.
You may get a cool post about my emergency preparedness kits, but do you want to know what the two most important things I always keep next to my bed are? A dream journal, for if I have an awesome dream. And a hammer, in case of rapists. These are the two most important things. Everything else will fall into place on its own, but amazing dreams and rapist-smashing wait for no man.
I was totally minding my own business and my button fell off (right in the vital boob-zone) and it would’ve been disaster is SOMEONE hadn’t suggested I carry a sewing kit around in the emergency prep kit that is my bag and now I am modestly reclothed like the good fake Amish thing I am and it’s all thanks to you YAY!
(I’m totally on break now so updating at work is kosher.)
In other news, yesterday at bellydancing we played with the veils and I’m tots buying a huge piece of silk on my day off tomorrow and running around with it at the worst possible moments in life/the parade, maybe?