Good night; goodnight

Watching the film “Pretty Woman” tonight with my mom and uncle – one of my favorite films – I found myself saying, either aloud or merely within my thoughts, “This is one of my favorite lines,” an absurd* number of times.

I knew what was coming up next, and my brain grew extremely excited – I was even giddy – at the prospect of the upcoming line or exchange in the film… it just has so many good lines in it, my list of favorites comprises half the film!

Anyway, it was a lovely night together with my mom and uncle, despite his annoying what felt like pestering about managing yet another file transfer for him, simply because he refuses to move himself into the digital age…, so we have to handle things for him… (He wants to give files and photos to my grandparents, his parents, for them to put on their iPad… they are 89 and 90 years old and have and successfully use an iPad…, yet their child, my uncle, will not get himself an e-mail account or computer or an answering machine/voicemail, or use a cell phone of any kind…. and it isn’t about money…. If you don’t want to do that, I get it – I didn’t have internet at home on purpose…, but live life in agreement with that determination… don’t constantly burden other people for the use of their digital tools, because you won’t get your own… if you don’t want it, don’t make other people do it all on your behalf… it would be different if we were wanting to give him digital photos or something of the sort…., but he’s the one wanting to do these transfers and such all the time… do it yourself, man…. stop bringing us into it.

Anyway, that’s my stress express for tonight… haha

We had an interesting yet entertaining time doing a Monday crossword puzzle on my laptop before watching the film tonight… they both were intrigued and surprised at the opportunity, and it was a cool little mental activity for us all… usually, a puzzle is too small for three people to huddle around it and complete it together, and my mom always complains about my handwriting or the darkness of my letters…, but, on the computer, it was practically full-screen, and each clue was lit up while we were on it, and it simultaneously lit up the relevant squares on the board at the same time, so it was even easier than a regular paper puzzle is visually…, and the three of us got to do it together, all at once…

It was cool.

Annoying at times, but cool overall. 🙂

So, yeah… it was a good night together. 🙂

*I notice that I use the word absurd rather often when describing things within my life… I wonder if I am being overly dramatic, or if my life, in fact, is rather full of absurdities… at the very least, we know it is not normal, as made clear my cousin those several years ago during the acrobats conversation over dinner. 😛

Post-a-day 2020

some days are today

Some days, you get to be Julia Roberts in the shopping scene of “Pretty Woman” with your cousin.

And some days, you get to do it two days in a row(!!!).

Yup, today was a good day.

Also, Queen is just plain lovely, and utterly wonderful.

Not that that is anything new here, of course…

Just saying. 😛

Post-a-day 2019

LA Times

Tonight, I drove through Beverly Hills, saw the Beverly Wilshire (but no bus stop!), visited Rodeo Drive, and drove on Mulholland Drive.

Earlier today, I saw the building for the LA Times, and nerded out at the fact that I do their crossword puzzle.

And then, this afternoon, I walked on the beach and felt the cold California Coast water (Beach Boys inspired that desire, though I’ve done it once before already).

My SoCal dreams have been just about satisfied. 😛

Post-a-day 2019

My very own “Pretty Woman” scene

You know the iconic shopping scene in “Pretty Woman”, where Julia Roberts tries on loads of fabulous outfits, and it just plain looks like a photo shoot?  Right, well, if you don’t, I suggest you get on that cultural tidbit, because it’s fabulous.  Anyway, so I remember a Cameron Diaz film having a sort of spoof on the scene, and, though I was somewhat unimpressed by the scene, I noticed a sense of something nigh to jealousy… envy with a little something more.  I want to do what they were doing.  I want to have my own BFF fake photo shoot at the clothing store, trying on amazing outfits, my subconscious cried.

And I’ve always remembered that, though I’ve never remember to do anything about the silent wish I’d had that day.  Tonight, as I was thinking of this one particular store where my family has shopped occasionally for most of my life, – it’s a discount outlet-type high-end clothing etc. store – I recalled a particular jacket that my cousin and I loved.  And then I remembered how we had both put one on in the store, and taken photos together. And then, like a rush of memory, I recalled a whoosh of different pieces we all had tried on together, and the loads of photos we took.  We had done our own “Pretty Woman” clothing store photo shoot, and I hadn’t even noticed.  Why?  Because we were just being ourselves.  We were attempting to recreate something we’d seen elsewhere.  We were just doing our own thing, being silly and fancy with high-end discount clothing etc. and having a wonderful time.

How cool is that?  I had hoped one day to copy the scene in my real life, but knew that it would be always that: a copy.  Instead, I got the real deal, and we had an actual spontaneous in-shop clothing photo shoot together.  Wicked.  I love life.  And family.  Especially family.

Post-a-day 2017

Sexy, not Sex

I think that I am afraid of being sexy, due to the risk of falling under the description of “sexual”.  I believe that there is a time and a place for sexy, and that it is an appropriate way to present oneself in the world… just not myself.  Or do I believe it acceptable?  …Yes, I do.  Sexy, not sexual, is entirely acceptable in my book, given the appropriate time and place.  As a teacher at school, no.  As someone at a dinner event, yes.  Being “hot” is not off limits to me, and yet I believe there is something deep inside of me that is terrified of it.  Of being it, I mean.

Perhaps I merely fear that it would be interpreted as a call for sexual intercourse, therefore not only labelling me as “slutty”, but also attracting unwanted advances by men toward that unintended message.  I want to be sexy, because I can be sexy, not because I want sex.  I want to have the body, because I can have the body, and I find the body entrancingly beautiful.  I don’t want it for some man, but for myself and for myself alone.  However, I do not want to have to hide it, to keep it only to myself and to avoid allowing others to notice.  I want to be able to go into public with it, because it is part of who I am, and I need not be ashamed of it.  Just as I have gone into public in my pajamas or with a towel in my hair, I want to be able to go out dressed in “sexy”: comfortably.

Yet where is that distinction between sexy and sexual for me?  i would say that it is intention, but I do not feel safe in such a distinction.  I do not want to have sex with the people around me, and I do not want them to attempt to or want to have sex with me.  But I am still terrified that I will come across that way.  Really, though, I must be kidding myself a bit here – I fear this regularly, not just when I dress up or want to dress up.  I have this fear present simply in the way I walk or the clothes I wear daily.  I envy the way some women dress, and cannot consider my actually wearing the same outfit… even though it is beautiful on them, and likely would be on me, too.  Why?  Because of this inner terror of coming across as sexual and desiring something specific (i.e. sex) from those around me.

What’s with me?  Is this really all just tied to one incident of things been utterly misunderstood about me?  I’d like to think that the one incident doesn’t have such power, if any, over me still today.  I’m not so sure, though.  I will consider this actively over the coming days and weeks…

Post-a-day 2017

 

As though in response to this post from last night, the world presented me with this article tonight, from a pile of my old papers through which I was sorting.

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