Shoes.

By my front door there is The Plop.  In The Plop zone is all the various articles I need from day to day.  My purse, my keys, my bag for work, my bag for work, my bag for play.  I'm stretched so thin I can scarcely keep track of myself from one moment to the next.  Stability is tangible, but I feel it could fly at any moment.

So I ground myself in my shoes.

Who am I?  If I look to my shoes, they tell me.  At this moment, I am a receptionist.

Who am I?  Millicent, the character I've created.

Who am I?  A waitress.

Am I barefoot?  Then I can breathe until I am myself in a role again.

{"Shoe Pile" by fuzyblucaterpilr, DeviantArt}

But really, am I not just a series of performances?

Oh hi.

Okay it's been way too long, and my dearest called me on it.  It's true.

Deleted the other blog, for those who knew of it/were following it.  I'm fickle.  Thus is my nature.  I only have the desire to discuss it when it's happening, and nothing's really happening anymore.  If you want the rest of the g on g story, just ask me.  But for now, nothing terribly adventurous is happening in that department.

It's FAIRE SEASON!  And I'm ill already!  YAY!  3rd weekend in and I'm bogged down by a head cold. Yay me.  I wish I could even enjoy the days off a little, but no, I'm ill and recuperating.  Lots of adorable pictures of me are floating about, which always delights and baffles me.

I'm putting my toes in . . . ever so slowly . . . into the deep, murky waters of wedding planning.  It's a scary motherfucker.  Like, thanks Disney, for making me want that fairy tale bullshit.  I mean, mine won't be traditional, by any means, but I still want that big ideal wedding.  I can't avoid it, I have a shitton of family.  It looks like we're looking at about 100 guests.  Which could be worse, I suppose.  But it's still a loooot.  I don't want anyone taking on debts for this.

The illness better fly away because . . . it looks like I'm going to be waitressing in the very near future!  There is a restaurant near Faire that is now managed by the husband of a friend, and a lot of Faire type peeps are working there, so I said hey, why not.  I need the extra money bigtime, plus I'll love my coworkers.  I've never waited before, so that part is a bit intimidating, but I figure it's 75% acting anyway.  Right up my alley.  The only thing I don't really know is how to do taxes when you figure in tips or whatever.  Damn the man!

{www.nataliedee.com}

::sigh:: I feel like I've exhausted what I can say.  I almost called my Beff last night because every once in a while I get that overwhelming pressure of eternity weighing me down.  You know, mortality and all.  No big, just looking your finite self right in the eyes.  I avoided severe reaction but it's still entirely overwhelming.

I plan to start a big internet art project once Faire is over and I have spare time again.  A web comic-y artistic outlet.  We'll see how that pans out.  Mah boy said he'll web design and we can go from there.  It's good to have a project.

Anyway, I think I'm done.  I'm busy doing nothing on my sick day, dontchaknow.