Snippets from my day:
- I wrote a news release (which I haven't done in FOREVS) for the new website. Yay for Union's new website! It's pretty.
- Got called stylish and some other random compliment I can't remember. It made my night, even though I'm not actually stylish.
- Broke my vegan streak with some Taco Bell. Ooops.
- Mulled over what a relationship would be like with one of my gay male friends.
- Felt unheard at a CT meeting.
- Felt like a piece of meat. No f***ing thanks.
- Hung out with a very pretty girl
- Wished I had a teleporter that reached to Washington
- Drank lots of Naked drinks. Mmmm, Naked.
- Decided to stop writing a boring blog and put on my ORGANIC COTTON night shirt. I'm excited (my sister bought it for me. I felt loved).
Look at this pretty poem I found. It's so sad that it makes me happy.
A Modern Maid by Christine Hamm
Joan of Arc works at the Gap.Her armor, nearly invisible under
the florescent light, catches on the sweaters
she folds, so that cashmere threads
follow her everywhere, a crimson cape.
She can’t remember how she got here:
most days, can’t remember her name when she gets up,
but knows where her keys are,
and what bus to take to work.
God speaks to her sideways,
flickering reflections in the
napkin dispenser at the diner,
upside down when she licks
the ice cream clean from her spoon.
Joan sees pinions behind her when she uses the ATM.
There’s angels, mostly angry and scary,
often white, and always in her dreams.
They smell like straw and milk...
Joan is sixteen.
She’s always sixteen.
She’s so blond her eyebrows disappear.
She has freckles and is serious,
chews off her lipstick.
She’ll heal you if you ask nice, and go back behind the chinos with her.
Her name means 'God is gracious.'
Sometimes when she’s stacking the perfume
called heaven
she remembers this is true.
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