November 20, 2003 - 12:25 pm
I kind of like being a nonchalant, non-gold member Diaryland user! All the pressure of writing an entertaining entry no longer weighs so heavily (you'll find exhibits A through C by clicking the little blue "Back" link a total of three times). And while I'm being honest (though something I'm strive to be with other people, a virtue that seems to be entirely lost on myself) I must admit that all those other blue links over there? The ones with all the fanciful/non-fanciful monikers people have concocted for themselves? Those, along with the corresponding ones on my Diaryland Buddy List, have gone completely unclicked for a very long time. Actually, that's not completely true (when will the lies stop? When?!). There are a select few that I still click on a regular basis. I'd say three or four. Who is it? Is it you? You? Could be you, but probably not.
That last paragraph was much like my foray into oil painting: Started with the complete intention of seeing it through to the end, but gave up part-way. The only real difference is that, after deciding not to finish the above paragraph, I didn't then decide to paint my arms from wrist to elbow with Cerulean Blue oil paint. Which, of course, means that Mother doesn't now need to take me out into the back yard and scrub my arms with turpentine.
Cut me some slack, people. I was only...um...13. Okay, forget it.
Connie will be home soon. I can't wait. Honestly. I haven't seen her in eons. I'm sure we'll do all sorts of fun things like go shopping, and do lunch or dinner or maybe lunch and dinner. There will be scintillating conversation and laughter abound. Then maybe we'll go back to my place. Put on a little soft music. Drink a bottle of red. Before you know it, we're ripping each other's clothes off, scrambling for the bed. Then, in a moment of sudden sincerity and passion, he leans in and says...oh. Hold up. That's not Connie! That's my imaginary boyfriend!
I'm sure Connie and I will have fun, too.
Ta da
