Saturday, August 06, 2005
eye to the telescopeNothing pleases me more than reading letters and postcards over and over again. People don't tell you as much in person, and sometimes these make the best presents. I've kept every one of them, from Mel, because we were in different JCs, and code-named crushes and swapped songlists, to Fly, being his high profile i'm-too-busy-for-anyone self he was never around, and everything in between.
Saturday went just the way I wanted it to, spent too much but still exercised restraint. I don't need another bag, do I, or more makeup. :) Maybe it was because I couldn't get a pair of seriously gorgeous pink slides at the secret shoe shop, and because of National day sales, I od'ed a bit, but less than my mom. Am presently lusting after Mr Marc Jacobs, Juicy, a pink pair of sandals at Betula, and I've got the urge to splurge, so more on National Day please. For now, I swear, I gotta clean out this place, seriously. It's packed to the rafters and I've got unpacked shopping bags shoved under my table, very bad.
The problem with journalling is that I'm experiencing a multitude of emotions that I cannot articulate, and I need to sort it out so I won't feel so tormented, but telling somebody about my stream-of-consciousness doesn't make it so personal anymore. Ruminations and revelations that occur suddenly, only to be forgotten after awhile. And sometimes you can't tell nothing but the whole truth, because it spoils everything. Maybe I should do a Virginia Woolf, and arrange all my thoughts neatly in words, so that they appear in linear fashion, but it wouldn't sound half as good.
Mostly, I dislike Sundays because I am never fully awake, and as a result I'm grumpy and a pain to be with.
rachel at 9:55 PM