Today's blog title brought to you by:
ALINA. Little. Yellow. Different.
ALINA. Little. Yellow. Different.
Never in my life (at least, not that I remember) have I been so pleased to make a purchase at Wal-Mart. Most purchases these days are more pleasurable than in days past simply due to the self check-out line now so prevalent in many of the Wal-Mart stores. I also enjoy that Luna bars, those little devils that I seem to be so addicted to these days, are $.01 cheaper than anywhere else on the planet. Anyway, Luna bars and self check-out lines are not really the point of my story. The point of my story is my most joyous purchase in Wal-Mart not one week ago: Steel Train's Twilight Tales from the Prairies of the Sun... I spied it in the meager music section while I was waiting for my photos to finish processing and took about 1/2 a second to snatch it up off the shelf. It was the only copy and admittedly, I at first thought it was a planted album but was quickly set straight on that detail when it rang up at the self check-out line (let's see how many times I can include the words "self check-out" in this entire entry... but then, let's not really).
Needless to say, although I've already said it, this purchase made me really really happy, and proud. Really proud indeed.
I made other purchases this week as well. I purchased series I and II of The Office on DVD from eBay. Series I was great but Series II is clearly a bootleg and I've already written to the dude to make him aware of my disapproval and that I intend to mail the fraudulent copy back to him in exchange for a reimbursement of my hard-earned cash. I still haven't heard back from him...
I also bought a mosaic lamp that I have absolutely no place to put in my bedroom. Now that I've finally finished painting my walls and moving my furniture around (feng shui is an art), I think I might have become addicted to buying things. Granted, there are far worse things in life to become addicted to (reality television and smack are two perfectly good examples), but I've always prided myself in not being materialistic or not caring much for "stuff", and here I am buying any cool thing that my little monkey paws can get a hold of.
The Cheech is back on the East Coast. I can't believe what a little adult he is. I'm amazed every single time at how quickly he's growing up. He sat at the dinner table tonight and asked Cristina (Mama) for a piece of bread. She immediately got up to appease him (since he said please), and once she had gotten out the bread interrupted his chatter: "Alexander, I have an important question to ask you," he immediately looked up in attention, "do you want honey or jelly on your bread?"
He hollered back excitedly that he wanted jelly and then changed his mind, "No, honey!"
I got him a polo shirt so that he can pop his collar. This was more to piss off JC and Tony than anything, but it seemed to piss off Cheech as well. He screamed in protest when we tried to put the shirt on him. JC screamed back and it made him laugh for a minute, but he kept pulling at the collar of the shirt trying to get the thing off. I guess he's not a prepster afterall. I had such high hopes for the kid.
Having two pregnant women in the house now (Cristina, and JC's bride-to-be, Rhiannon) makes me a little nervous. Usually women living together in the same household or spending crazy amounts of time together will... well, they'll develop the same cycle, sort of just by association or something. So my concern is evident. But, I mean, it would be crazy to become pregnant by association, right? That's rubbish, right?
Actually, my concerns are more for everyone else in the house being left to combat the raging hormones that are flying around. Pregnant women are so moody. Damn.
I once (or twice) wrote about an old friend, named Brandon. I actually thought of him earlier today as I was criss crossing the northern part of New Jersey, flying at high speeds through the woods with wood-type animals looking on in shock and dismay. I thought about him being my fall-back boy, always there for me and constant date to weddings. His mother thinks that we're going to get married and somehow got the crazy idea in her head that this was some sort of arrangement between Brandon and I years ago... his mother is slightly delusional sometimes.
Regardless, I do have another friend named Brandon. Actually, his name is Michael, but people call him Brandon. I call him Brandon.
Anyway, this friend of mine, (Michael) Brandon is an absolute gem. He used to have long hair, but recently shaved it off. He majored in English and writes beautiful things when he actually gives himself the chance to. He really really likes Judas Priest. He recently bought a mountain bike.
(Michael) Brandon has a kitty cat that he calls Winnie (like from the Wonder Years). His birthday is next week. He loves Richmond. He has girl problems only because he is so beloved by so many. He has girl problems only because he cares so deeply for people and sometimes I don't think he realizes how much.
(Michael) Brandon encouraged me, inspired me to write a story this evening about two individuals so attuned to one another that they finish one another's sentences and can read eachother's minds. I think I can read (Michael) Brandon's mind. I think he can read mine, although recently he thought that I hated him. In that instance, his signal went a little dim and he was not able to percieve that in fact I do not hate him, I was just away from my computer working for a candidate that I'm not even sure I'll vote for. I was away painting my room. I was away talking things out with someone who understands or who wants to understand. I was just away... I didn't hate him at all.
There's something about having a friend who is removed from practically every situation in your life... having someone like that gives you the freedom to discuss freely whatever it is you need to get off your chest without the risk (or high risk) of judgment. Here it is: therapy without the outrageous expense (my insurance company says I have to pay for that other lousy counselor).
Sitting on the floor in the hallway of Alejandra's apartment building, just outside her door, I was feeling a little distressed, a little sad, and a little intoxicated when I decided to dial the number that had been sitting idly in my phonebook for so many months.
"Hey, is this Brandon?"
"Yeah, who is this?"
"Yeah. Um, it's moe"
I'm not one for phone conversations, but we talked for well over an hour and when I hung up the phone, for some reason, everything made sense again. All I needed was a shove in the right direction. A little encouragement. A little love... there's just something about having a friend like that.
There's just something about having a friend like (Michael) Brandon.
| Currently listening : |
Twilight Tales from the Prairies of the Sun
By Steel Train
Release date: By 19 April, 2005