SNAPSHOT WEDNESDAY: CASE CLOTHES

Well, I didn't have as many pictures of the now gone, but much loved clothes as I thought I had. This is all the fault of not owning a digital camera and my camera not working. Therefore, I am dependent on other people and their pictures. Uggghhhh. However, I did find some clothes yesterday that I held back for H-Girl because I liked them so much. *sigh* I probably shouldn't share this because it is indicative of how gaunt I was, but when I was down to my all-time low (and stayed there for quite a while), I discovered that I could buy H-Girl and I matching clothes at Children's Gap. Yeah, that meant I fit into a kids size 14 top. Anyway, it was sorta cool to wear our same shirts on the same day. At least, it was back then. I am sure she totally wouldn't go for it now because I have moved into the uncool grid. I don't know how, when, or why, I lost my cool factor, but it has happened. Personally, I think I am cooler today than I was yesterday, but not so says she. Not in actual words, but in actions. Moving on. So, I saved her the matching shirts. I thought it might be a nice surprise when she became a 14. And a few other things. Unfortunately, none of my actual favorites. Well, some of my actual favorites I would not let her wear. I suppose that says something. And it probably isn't good. But I am an adult and she is a child. Is that rationalization?

Anyway, one of my favorites was just this t-shirt. It was soft. I LOVE soft cotton. Don't know why I get such a charge out of a soft t-shirt. I meet a man wearing a soft t-shirt and I just want to start rubbing him. Yeah, that one is tough to explain. It really isn't you, it's your shirt. Moving on again. Anyway, it was soft cotton and it was a dyed out red. And it said, "YOU ARE MUCH CUTER WITH YOUR MOUTH CLOSED." I loved that shirt. That shirt cracked me up whenever I wore it. The looks on people's faces when they read it. Hehehe. Especially the men. Hilarious. Of course they read it because it was written right on my boobs. Men always look at your boobs. They can't help it. And then, of course they don't say anything. Because they are cuter with their mouths closed. I miss that shirt. I really want it back. And I don't have a single photo of me in it. That is why you are getting the story and no picture.

I also love pink. Don't ask why. I don't know. I hate wearing orange. Won't wear it ever. Never. I look jaundiced. Sickly. Terrible. I love pink. I will wear pale yellow. Not much for bright yellow. I get to looking jaundiced again. I had *sniff* this really cool butterfly shirt. I am giving you two shots. One is full length, but you can't really appreciate the butterfly. It is me at the karaoke bar. It is proof that I actually do sing karaoke. I know you all wondered if I was a big, fat, fibber. You are about to see me and a microphone on a stage in a hole in the wall karaoke joint. Question answered. Followed by a close up of me and an ex-boyfriend who has been cropped out. Why? Because I don't want to look at him and I don't want anyone else to have to look at him either. I have been drinking in the second (closer) picture. Yeah, he was a good influence. I hadn't yet figured out that alcohol and migraines were not mixing well. I can be a real idiot. Anyway, if you are thinking that I look drunk. I probably am. And delusional. Someone really needed to talk some sense into my head. I hear a Beatles song playing. I think it is called "Yesterday." So here are the pics....





Pretty shirt, no? I wish I had put that shirt in the guest closet. It actually did hang in the guest closet up until about 2 months ago when my mother stuck a cattle prod up my butt and forced me to go through all of my stuff and just pitch. She said I would feel better. I don't feel better. This is why pack rats hate to pitch. They get rid of their best stuff and then they are mad. Moving on again. Another pink top that was a favorite. Well, this one H-Girl can wear when she is 25. Or 30. Yeah, it is a great top. So, there is another drunken picture of me with the ex who has been cropped. I want to gag. And then there is a picture of me at the karaoke joint where you can't see the shirt at all. What you can see is how happy I am without the ex. This is pre-ex. This is just me and two of my favorite guy friends hanging out and being happy. I also probably was not drinking. I drank a lot of water back then. No alcohol. How does a person get more stupid as they get older? Anyway, I like the picture because my hair looks good and I look happy. And I have my hot shirt on. Right now my hair looks terrible, my shirt is gone, and my migraines are kicking my a$$. I was in bed until 6pm today and I have no footage for tomorrow. Yeah, that is how my week is going. Anyway, here are the pics....





Well, I gave this shirt away thinking I would never be able to pull it off again. It is only because I am sitting down that it covers as much as it does. It is a half shirt. Yeah, you got that one right. I was able to wear a half shirt. I was so proud. There was no pinching an inch on me. And it has a motorcycle on it. Do you see that? Well, there is a story there, too. I hung for a while after my divorce with this guy who was a little bit wild. In other words, he was too wild for me. But, he bought me the shirt. And we had fun for the couple of dates we went on. However, I knew that our worlds were not the same. How to describe this? He was like Evil Knievel (I know I spelled that wrong) and I am like Carrie Bradshaw with fewer sex partners. We totally live in different circles. Plus, if I was Carrie I would have chosen Aidan and Mr. Big would have been HISTORY. Let me pick a different parallel for those of you scratching your heads. He was like The Fonz in Happy Days and I would be someone smart and hip, but not willing to just go on a few wild rides whenever he decided to call my number. In other words, with this guy you had to be willing to take a number. That so isn't me and we parted amicably. And I got a half shirt. Well, I had a half shirt that I wish I still had. Now, some girl got it for a steal from Goodwill. She has my half shirt and all I have is this photograph. Yeah, it, too, has been cropped, and I am probably pretty drunk. I am a dumb a$$. The cutting the real life cursing is working fairly well. I am having trouble here in my blog.

SNAPSHOT WEDNESDAY: COLLEGE FRESHMAN YEAR

If I had as many novel ideas as I do blog ideas, I would be bowled over right now with book ideas. As it is, my novel is "stuck" and I am getting blog ideas right and left. Does the universe feel like it is on tilt for anyone else? Ah well, you get what you get. At least I am getting an idea for something. I could be sitting here completely idea-less. That would be Bad.

What is this idea? I am so glad you asked. I am thinking of calling it Snapshot Wednesday. Or maybe Wednesday's A Moment In Time. You do realize before this is all said and done I won't have a spare day to blog about just random ole stuff. Of course, I don't have to do this every Wednesday. Well now, that feels better. Isn't it great knowing that you make the rules? As soon as I removed the restriction of having to blog about this every Wednesday, I felt tons better. Whew. However, knowing that it is always there waiting for me is a relief, too. How about that? Finally something that cuts both ways and feels good.

Right now I am restricted to the pictures I already have scanned. I am no good with my stepdad's scanner. That thing annoys the crap out of me, and I never get my picture scanned and saved, where I can find them. It really ticks me off. So... until I can get him to sit down with me, and show me again how to work that blasted machine, I have to deal with what I already have. That is not a problem for today. Unfortunately, I am recycling a photo of me that you have already seen. Them's the breaks folks.

Freshman year College

My dorm was not the traditional set up with one long hall and rooms shooting off on both sides. I lived in the only dorm on campus that embraced cluster-style living. Each cluster had its shared living area. All of the rooms sprouted off of that. There were four doubles, a room for the RA, and two triples on the end. At the far end was a shared bathroom. I lived in one of the triples.

It was winter and it was cold. I was walking back from class rethinking every choice I had made for the last year, beginning with choosing this college. It was on a lake in Michigan. I hate snow. I hate cold. I looked around. There was snow everywhere. It started snowing in October and it hadn't stopped. I blew out my breath. I could see it. It was COLD. I could barely feel my feet and they were in boots. This was the only place I had ever lived that it got colder as the day progressed. It was probable that the day be colder at noon than at 9am. WTF??? I was several classes past Music Theory and I still wanted to lie down on the sidewalk and have a good cry. This is what death feels like. Not my death, but the death of someone you love. The death of a close friend. I had been watching my friend Music die in inches for months. It was almost over. I could hear the death rattle. I just wanted to go back to my dorm, get in bed, and sleep until May.

When I get to my room, my roommates are in the middle of a lively discussion. They are happy. One of them, K, has the perfect boyfriend, is perpetually happy (not the fake kind, the real kind), and is confident and sure about her major. My other roommate, R, has a high school sweetheart, and is also confident about her lifepath. She isn't as perky as K, but they are definitely more suited to one another as roomies. I am definitely the odd one out in this group. A part of me steps outside of myself and wonders if it would be different if I knew where I was going, what I wanted, and wasn't so miserable due to my major? What if I had a boyfriend? No, I still wouldn't really fit in. I am not perky. Not even on my best day. Happy? Yes. Perky? No.

They immediately include me in their discussion. K says, "We have come up with two case scenarios and you have to pick one. The first one is this: (I close my eyes and take a deep breath and then open my eyes and let the breath out) You marry a man that you love to distraction, but he doesn't have nearly the same feelings for you. He loves you, just not to the same degree that you love him."

R picks up where K left off: "Or you marry a man who loves you to distraction, but you don't have nearly the same feelings for him. You love him, but just not nearly to the same degree."

I look at both of them like they have spent the afternoon drinking in the room, except neither of them drink. Me? Too much. Obviously, not with them. "Seriously, this is what you two have been doing?"

R: Yes, now which would you choose?

Me: I wouldn't choose either. They are terrible choices.

K: But if you had to choose one or the other, which would you choose?

Me: (Somebody shoot me dead on the spot.) If I had to choose, I would choose someone who loved me to distraction.

Just then, it was one of those moments that people say they get a cold shiver down their spine. Or maybe they say it felt like someone walked over their grave. Whatever. It was creepy. It was creepy enough that I remember this conversation and the details leading up to it. Oddly enough, I don't remember what they chose or if they chose.

All I know is that I shouldn't have chosen. Some people might say that my choosing something so silly as that didn't mean anything. Maybe not. But, words have power. It was like saying something like that out loud set something into motion.

So, what do you think about the idea in general? The story in specific? And what about the name? Also, have you ever had something like this happen? You do or say something, get a freaky feeling, and then have it actually play it out in your life in a bizarro way MANY years later?