Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Back over Christmas break, the family and I took a day trip to Philadelphia. After spending a good part of the morning running around the grimy, decaying Chinatown, which interested no one in particular besides my mother, my good-natured brother-in-law was kind enough to take me to a yarn store (which, of course, interested no one save yours truly), and purchase some yarn for me as a gift! The store had a collection of hand-dyed yarns named after female authors and other icons. It was a tough choice for me between the Louisa May Alcott yarn, which more closely suited my color palette, and Edith Piaf, because, well, it’s effin’ Edith Piaf. In the end, practicality won:
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Currently there is some sort of horrible germ wending its way among my circle of friends and acquaintances, devastating us all. Oddly, it seems to have struck during a bout of really good (re: warm) weather, instead of in the middle of the bastardly ice storms we’ve been having here. I will, rest assured, suitably freak out if I see any more random dead birds on the streets. Otherwise, I’m fairly upbeat, having heard from a little (not dead) bird that a boy I’m kind of interested in might actually be interested back (!), though he might have also been the source of contagion for this current phase of illness. C’est la vie.
I’m also floating on a cloud of tea and cold medication, because yesterday, two packages arrived at my doorstep:
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Up until high school and beyond, I suffered from a debilitating case of social anxiety. That may come as a surprise to those of you who know me now, given the absolute social butterfly that I am now (so social, in fact, that I am positively thrilled about being sick today so that I have an excuse to stay inside, away from all the scary friendly people). I was basically mute from kindergarten through fifth grade, due to some now unmemorable traumatic incident at school. For some reason, at the age of five, I had gotten the idea that my voice was not feminine enough. The proper solution to this dilemma was to permanently seal shut my pie-hole, until I changed schools. Some time during high school I decided that being lonely sucked a fat one, so I worked to get over it. I started answering questions in class, became competitive in debate and forensics (two-time nationals qualifier for oration, holla), and even got some friends.
Thankfully, I’m mostly over the whole social anxiety thing now, and am not afraid to look terribly foolish in front of strangers and friends (and do so on many occasions). The one little thing I can’t quite seem to get over, however, is that peculiar modern invention known as the telephone.
Monday, February 19, 2007
I spent this past weekend in good ol’ Wichita, land of construction barrels and proliferating chain restaurants, ringing in the new year with the family. I’m referring to the lunar new year, of course, which, as any Chinese or Vietnamese child knows, is objectively way better than the piddling, backwards Gregorian calendar version. Instead of getting regretfully drunk, the thing to do for the lunar new year is to gorge oneself on as much delicious food as possible, and of course, pillage one’s relatives and any moneyed adult for shiny red envelopes.
