August 5, 2009

O hai. I'm daylogging again.

I desperately need to have a clothing purge. Nay-- a clothing armageddon.

I went digging through my tub of plaster hands looking for some sandpaper (...don't ask) and found, in a tub that was supposed to hold just art supplies, a jacket, a pair of jeans (size ...4?), a plaid shirt that I thought I'd lost last year, and a bright green bra with a single push-up pad.

I don't even want to talk about the state of my closet, or the fact that I need to compress two dressers' worth of clothing that I've collected over the past three years into one for my upcoming move. That, if nothing else, makes me regret the year I spent working at the thrift store, with its easy access to more-or-less free clothes. (Well, that and the vases full of urine that occasionally made their way to the knickknack shelf.)

I'm tired of hoarding clothing that doesn't fit,"just in case." Yes, I may balloon up to over 200 lbs again. Yes, I might also drop back down to 120. Is either terribly likely? No, and hell, no. Why, then, do I own 18 pairs of jeans, only three of which fit? If I really need to save clothing that may never be useful again, why am I saving so much of it? The only thing it's doing is making me feel miserable and weighed down, not saving me the hassle of future clothes-buying.

(On a related note: why do I still have four pairs of jeans with holes in the crotch? Four pairs. Really. That long ago died the death of overly-used pants and should never again be worn in public. What exactly is the reasoning behind keeping things that should have been thrown out long ago? It's not nostalgia, I know that much.)

I have shirts I haven't worn in years, shirts that I honestly never wear. Shirts that are less-than-flattering on me, shirts that do nothing but take up space. And yet I keep them around, not even in the hope that, one day, I'll wear them. I even have a shirt an old boyfriend left here. It still smells like him, a little.

Shoes, at least, I'm better about. Then again, shoes always fit, no matter what size you are. They could do with some purging, too, but I think that I buy maybe one pair of shoes a year. I can live with that.

I need to finally go through my closet this week. Maybe getting that straightened up will help me feel a little less overwhelmed in the rest of my life. Maybe not. But it's worth a shot.

Far be it from me to perpetuate such ridiculous memes on E2, Facebook, or any other place.

However, when I saw this on Facebook, it appealed to the verbal-puzzly side of my brain, and I decided to fill it out, purely for my own amusement. I was sufficiently pleased with the result that I saved it, and it has sat on my hard drive untouched until now. Presented with apologies for your edification is:

MY LIFE ACCORDING TO ORBITAL *groan*

Pick your Artist: Orbital
Describe Yourself: The Sinner
How do you feel: Way Out
Describe where you currently live: Planet of the Shapes
If you could go anywhere, where would you go: Lost
Your favorite form of transportation: Monorail
Your best friend is: Out There Somewhere
You and your best friends are: The Naked And The Dead
What's the weather like: Fahrenheit 3D3
Favorite time of day: One Perfect Sunrise
If your life was a TV show, what would it be called: Pay Per View
What is life to you: Transient
Your last relationship: The Girl With the Sun in Her Head
Your fear: Confrontation
What is the best advice you have to give: Know Where to Run
Thought for the Day: Blood is Thicker
How I would like to die: Impact (The Earth is Burning)
My soul's present condition: Attached
My motto: I Wish I Had Duck Feet

I was surprised at how many of these song titles were already nodes or nodeshells. Evidently E2 likes Orbital.

EXT. AN ENGLISH-STYLE MANSION IN BANGKOK

Cars come and go as people in formal wear, or sportswear costing over $1000 or more per person are milling about, as are almost invisible Thai servants in white-jacketed uniforms.

MED. SHOT -- EXT. A NONDESCRIPT, BUT LARGE SEDAN, PROBABLY A LIMO

Several small people are pushing a larger, pale or perhaps sunburned figure into the back seat.

There is an abduction, and my proxy, who does not seem to resemble me very much, is forced into the back of a car. There is a sense of fear and foreboding that is amplified by the way that the car moves along the roads, and takes various sharp turns that seem to be rather pointless, and resemble the oddly disjointed rear projection scenes found in most Hitchcock films. The abductors are hazy figures, and make little coherent sense in their demands, if they are even making demands at all. Mostly they are driving and on the edge of panic.

INT. - THE LIMO

Panicked faces, cacophonous threats, much confusions as the landscape passes in view outside the rear window.

This would be a pleasant drive in the country were it not for the sense of threat, danger and concern that the kidnappers do not have any kind of realistic plan.

The dream is mainly images of this strange odyssey, flash cut, and confusing and more than a little bit disturbing.