but i didn't hear the bell ring

I've never been a fan of the fall, but with all the great things in tow, such as leggings, tunics, ankle boots, red nail polish, and the return of Grey's Anatomy, I can't help but love fall '06! Oddly, enough I've been waking up these past few mornings and getting myself back to (what now seems) a simpler time.

The mornings are reminding me of those first few weeks of my sophomore and junior years of high school. My uniforms were clean, my shoes were new, my backpack was light, and I was content with having thirty-dollars to my name. But what I remember most vividly was the weather. The mornings were always glorious, with the perfect amount of moisture settled on the windshield of my mother's mini van and a slight morning haze, but not enough to break the visibility of the sun's rays. It was never so cold that one needed a jacket or a sweater. I would simply roll the sleeves of my white polo, with the green emblem on the left breast and make my way out the door. Everything was really fresh and new in a time generally associated with death. Of course at the ripe (stupid) age of 16 I wasn't concerned with death, intrinsic meanings, or any other sophisticated idea. Usually those mornings gave way to unbearable afternoon heat, but it didn't matter. Each morning was a fresh beginning at impressing new teachers and rekindling fondness among the old and thinking about what I would rather be doing than conjugating Spanish verbs--yo, tu, nosotros and then some.

Now, I'm six or seven years removed from that experience, but I've managed to get back to those mornings in some sense. I can't blame tardiness on the bell failing to ring, being held late by the previous class--now I blame traffic. It is not acceptable to have only $30--I have bills now. I think I'm glad it's no longer summer and that's making me nostalgic. Whatever the case, it's nice and I hope the feeling lasts for awhile.

removing me--belly button saga

There comes a time in a girl's life where she must bid farewell to her old ways--whatever they may be. In light of nearing my mid-twenties, I have given up making dates and not following through, driving fast, staying up late, over compensation, and as of Sunday, I gave up my belly button ring.

This was a notable accomplishment. I've been wanting to pluck that piece of metal from my body for about a year, but clung tight to it's symbolisms of freedom, rebelion, sexual liberation/prowess and the fact that it enlongated my belly button, which, in turn made me feel thinner. I was pierced on my 18th birthday with Ralph by my side muttering some nonesense about soroities and how when I went off to college, I should join one. In an instant and a painful breaking of my skin I stood up to find a barbell curved in what was eighteen years prior my lifeline.

I was proud for having gone through with the whole experience. I paraded around campus the following day eager to show off my new jewlery (as well as my flat stomach). I managed to only get infected once and rarely did my ring catch on clothes. However, at twenty-three I feel like I need to let go. That ring no longer symbolizes freedom, rebelion, or sexual liberation at all. Rather it represents that last year of high school, rebelion that I'm not longer interested in, a show, being eighteen and all the things that I no longer am. I certainly grappled with letting go. But I'm learning that's central to my character. I have a hard time letting go of things that make up my former person.

I took out the ring and now it sits on my dresser in two pieces. I wonder if the aligned holes in my stomach will close. Perhaps they won't, which is fine. It can symbolize personal growth and moving on. There are better things when you remove the garbage from the past...you may find that you simply have a belly button.

life's little soundtrack

I've been treating "le blog" like a cyclops mormon stepchild from one of the dakotas. Very, not cool. Well, a post-desert drama session and a new job will make a gal do crazy things!

In latest and greatest news I've landed a new job, which means no more office bitch. I will be working for Avalon Publishing as their marketing assistant. This is such a "Jeffersons" moment I feel and I'm loving it. In other news, I'm wearing skinny jeans today and I feel fabo in them. I had a fear of skinny jeans, but they don't look as frightening on me as I had anticipated. I would like to incorporate more "skinny pants" into my wardrobe. I heart them.

And finally, I am no longer the last person in San Francisco sans iPod. I had some apprehension about the iPod. I felt like it possesed a great power that could tune me out to the other sounds of the city. However, I've found that it makes me more aware. To hear a sound over the trance beats spilling from "le pod" is quite impressive. I now feel like I can give my days soundtracks--something I've always longed for....

As a little girl, I had a thing for playing out my future in my head (I still do--although people like Ray Wonder call this my fantasy world in which perpetually dwell). I would sit in the passenger seat of my mother's car and daydream, but every daydream was accompanied by music. Whatever song tickeled my fancy, managed to make it's way into my thoughts. Now that I have "le pod," my longing for muscial accompaniment has come true. "Le pod" helps me to assess my day in the morning, tune out the halucinating barefoot woman on the 71L, write to music and (sadly) block out any maddness that has made it's way into my life (that particular day). I love it's name, "le pod"...so French.