Wednesday, 30 June 2010

This is so not my week.

So, I don't keep a journal but I have been blogging since June 22, 2004, which is sort of like keeping a journal with a creative liberty thrown in here and there. Because my life is BORING. I would like to enter into the record this entry from June 23, 2004 as Exhibit A:
I first saw Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone when it debuted on HBO. I was home from school for a week with a nasty flu. Since the movie seemed to be in constant rotation, I just had it on TV perpetually while I drifted in and out of sleep. Not a very mentally taxing movie, soothing music... it was really just what I needed.

Unfortunately, since then, I cannot watch it without becoming very sleepy. A total Pavlovian response. It's so bad, in fact, that when Seth and I recently went to see Azkaban, he kept leaning over and warning me not to fall asleep.

So, last night, we finally sat down to watch Wizard People, Dear Reader. And within 20 minutes, I had to go to bed!! It was 9:30, people!!
RIVETING.

Contrast that with this entry from May 15, 2006:
Don't write about me.

What?

I mean it, don't write about me.

I would never write about you.

Don't write about me.

Okay!


I'm not writing about you. I'm writing about someone exactly like you.

*****

Today is your birthday, the Ides of May, a fact which I had honestly forgotten until Yahoo! so cruelly reminded me. I remember the first of your birthdays that we spent together. You asked me to write you a poem, and then you broke up with me throwing accusations left and right. I smashed my favorite coffee mug against a wall that night. But I already had the damn thing written and I gave it to you anyway, and left you sitting in the stairwell, crying. I should have burned it.

You always thought you knew me so well, but you didn't know me at all. And you still don't. That you've dropped out of my life is such a relief; it's exhausting to feel so sorry for someone all the time. But your ghostly presence remains, in conversations with mutual friends, a slip of your name in drunken babbling, birthday reminders from online calendars. God willing, this will be my last commemoration of the date, and the exorcism will be complete.
Not so boring! But, like, 23% fiction. The good part, where it sounds like I'm pissed off about something. So... yeah. The end.

8 comments:

mysterygirl! said...

I want to get into a fight and smash something! How come I never get to do stuff like that? But even if that's the 23% fiction, I can agree that it's exhausting to feel sorry for someone all the time. Insightful!

Jennie said...

I think I remember reading these when you first posted them. How the eff did I find your blog? The internet is weird.

Heather Anne said...

I remember BOTH of those. Oh. <3

You can call me, 'Sir' said...

Life would be so much easier to take if it were only 77% real.

Ashley said...

Somebody should start a blog and call it '23% Fiction.' It would be awesome.

scott said...

Things I learned from my mother:

- When women get mad they break their own things.

I love your writing. It reminds me of someone... hmmm....

Hello, Collective.

eclectic said...

I like to think that all of 2007 was 23% fiction. No, make that 77%. For that matter, I wasn't so damn fond of 2004 either... nevermind, I'm counting on 2010 to make up for both of them, starting in AUGUST!

Also, you don't write enough. Fiction or otherwise, I love reading your words. 100%.

Mad William said...

Now that I have a child, my past has become 95% fiction. That's the beauty of the past. For those of us old enough, we can change the past and it isn't on google to double check.