Make Me Love You:
Public, Part One
Public, Part Two
Private

Why can't I be brilliant?

I won't get into that thought too much, because it's just a little too, you know, serious for this here forum, and because I have a tendency to chase it around and around and never quite get it. But I just want to know, why can't I be?

Sometimes I say that to myself over and over again in the shower, real quiet-like under my breath* (see asterisk note, below) and I sound sort of like a spoiled four-year-old.

Why can't I be?

Like that.

* Because the killers might have broken into my house, and they hear the shower running and so they know someone's in there, but they don't know if it's a male or a female, and if they hear me they'll know I'm a chick and they'll break in and...well, they're the killers, so they'll kill me.**

** Or, Jason will be there and I didn't know and he'll think I'm all nuts talking to myself in the shower.

End of thought one.

Thought two:

I was remembering one of the best road trips I had, when Jason and L and Jim and Jay and I went to Phoenix last April. Or maybe the April before. We saw Bill and Chris and met Bill's live-in, Colleen, who I really liked even though I expected not to.

Wait. We met Colleen the trip before. But we saw her again, and I still liked her.

I think that's how it went. Doesn't matter.

We also saw Cindy. And I love Cindy and I worry about Cindy desperately. I had my nose pierced at Cindy's piercing salon and in all the years I've known her I never thought I'd be sitting on a doctor's table while she stuck a swab up my nose.

I will be writing a diary entry about Cindy soon. Trust me, you'll be glad I did, because damn.

Cindy was dating Joe at the time, and you might have actually seen Joe, if you watch talk shows or that show, Ripley's Believe It Or Not. He's the guy that turns up from time to time on television that has the metal mohawk. I'm not sure if this is still true - but I would be willing to bet that it is - but he was the only one in the world with this particular body adornment. Because it's sort of an invasive-type procedure. He has a metal plate in his head that he screws spikes into. So spikes are screwed into his head.

Ever seen him? Yeah. Him.

Anyway, L, Cindy, Joe, Chet and I went to dinner. Joe was one of the most intense people I have ever come in contact with in my life. He was one of those people that was so intense, he didn't seem to get humor at all. Not stupid, just wow-holy-good-crap intense.

At one point during dinner, he swung his head around to warn me, "Never touch a coldsore and then touch your eye.(!)" Really intense-like. Because one of his eyes is messed up. Because of coldsore cross-contamination, I suppose.

Whatever.

Anyway, Chet and Joe didn't seem to mesh well (there was no fighting or anything like that, but Chet is the exact opposite of intense, he's more like...teflon, so Joe got on his nerves, I think), so Cindy and Joe went their own way after dinner and L and I got to hang out with Chet for a while.

Amusement factor: high.

As always.

There were some disturbing moments. It was like someone held up a mirror to me and I could see exactly how crappy I used to be.

If you've read my older entries, you know I've talked about how I was not always the shiny treasure of Mlle R that you all know and undoubtedly love. Chet knew me, mostly, during those stupid years, and unfortunately this has colored his perceptions of me for time and all eternity.

An example: Chet's car was out of commission at the time so he was driving his roommate's girlfriend's vehicle.

I used to um, pseudo-date his roommate. We will not get into that. Trust me. You'd thank me, if you knew.

Hanging from the cigarette lighter of the car was a small blue snowflake, it looked like an ornament of some kind, made out of beads and glitter.

I reached out, took hold of it, and asked, "What's this?"

Chet said, "I don't know, it's Sandra's." After a small, uncomfortable pause, he added, "Don't break it."

:::sigh:::

Just for the record, I wouldn't have broken it, even back then. I wasn't that psycho. But still, badly-colored perceptions of me, and I have no one to blame but myself.

But because this entry is getting so long, I will get to the best part of the trip, which if you don't know me I suppose you won't understand why it was the best. But here goes anyway.

I wanted to find a particular CD single, and Utah is just not the best place to pick up music. So we stopped by Zia, which is an amazing used music store in the Phoenix valley. And I couldn't find the single. And I was sad.

I don't remember really acting very sad, but I was. I know, it's weird, but music is sorta a big deal to me.

Anyway, Jason went back into the racks and looked and looked until he found me that damned single. I don't have a clue where he found it, because I had been looking everywhere, but he did, and he handed it to me like it was no biggie.

Things like that, that he doesn't even realize he's done, that's why he's my main squeeze still, even with his whole socks hang-up.

And the single was PTP's Rubber Glove Seduction, by the way. In case you crave that sort of detail in your stories.

Oh. Well. I sincerely apologize for the length of this entry. These is just the thoughts in my mind, babies. Welcome to them.

Well. I love you all, people. Now I think it's time to back away from the computer. I'll talk to you later. Maybe tomorrow, if I can think of anything worthwhile.

Love love love,

-Mlle R