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Wednesday July 5, 2000 "The best way in which to silence any friend of yours you know to be a fool is to induce him to hire a hall. Nothing chills pretense like exposure." Woodrow Wilson, Remarks to the Motion Picture Board of Trade
reckoning with the examination
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another Monday Well...my journal has a new face! (In case you came in the back door...it is here.) You are now reading The Visible Woman rather than the much duller "LB's Journal and Scrapbook." I've wanted a clever name for a long time. I like this one. Now I just have to decide whether to buy some visible woman kits for my bookshelf. Yikes! Another collection? Please, no. I've just been getting my material life in order. I've been pondering what kinds of things I should be presenting here, too. Should I talk about what I'm wearing? (Today I wore this to work: Men's Levis 560's, 34x30; company polo shirt with outdated logo. Ultimax socks, New Balance 971 Hiking boots with colorful monster bow biters, a $50 watch with a black leather band and, if you must know, Jockey For Her underwear.) That's boring. I already tell about almost every morsel that passes my lips. I'm not a huge music fan and not presumptious enough to tell you to spin the same CDs that I happen to have in my office. (I rely on FFP to DJ for me and get me into jazz, the Great American songbook, opera and classical at home and in his car...I just listen.) It gets down to whether this is for you or for me, doesn't it? Both, I'd say. You are generally pretty quiet if you are out there. My good buddy Anne is the one who responds most often. My old buddies Cheryl and Juan seem to read it sometimes from their comments. Even though I don't play the 'ring, burb, awards, notify list, forum and meet other journalists in person' game, I've had the occasional link from these other (often very cool) venues. So at least a few strangers stumble in here. And I really enjoy other people's exposure, their household microscopes (oh, you use it at home, nevermind). I did not get up and go work out this morning. FFP has been going off to Westwood for a morning workout. I should start going. Instead, I fool with my computer and drink coffee and talk to my parents and still get to work kind of late. Dad even did a walk before I went to work. Ah, yes, work. It was nice to get off what I thought was a futile project and get started again on one that is a little more tractable. Lots of discussion around the office about the woes of the stock market. I chalk it up to just one more thing I can't control. I am pretty happy with the new face on my journal. It is scary how happy it makes me when I have a design I like or get an entry up I like. Then there is something that bugs me about it and it really gets to me. I know it's meaningless. But that's that. FFP has been thinking big broad, sweeping thoughts. It seems to be a time for that. At lunch, SuRu and I decided to go to Brio Vista. One thing we can control is eating. Lots of crusty bread and olive oil, a salad and drum with asparagus and grains. After work, I go home to this little scene of domestic bliss. Mom cooking. I decide to sit in the dining room and read the paper while I eat. Usually everyone just scatters here and there, watching TV or whatever. They all three follow me to the dining room and eat there, thinking I want to have a civilized meal. Well, as civilized as you get serving yourself off the stove and using leftover napkins from take-out places. Catfish, vegies, fruit salad, sliced tomato. Good deal. SuRu and I take a night time walk. Not too far. Up to 45th and Burnet, back to Hancock, up Cat Street (Lynnwood) and home. Zoey sees a cat inside the Fantasy Game store and the two of them go bonkers. And yes, this is my little sad, dull life. And it ends with reading the paper, tossing off an e-mail to my friend Mags and...sleep. Good that what feels like Monday is followed by Thursday and Friday! |
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