Skip to main content

Too damn long.

So I realized last night I cant think of a favorite color anymore. It used to be green, like sage or olive greens, but now...I can't really say it's my favorite.

I think it's from working on retail. I no longer shop in terms of "ZOMFUG!! I love that green thing!!" but rather "oh, that's nice, that is very nice..." "that is such a nice green (or red or navy blue or gray or whatever color; it's less out of generally loving that color family as seeing specific colors on specific items that I react to specifically)." or "that looks so cute with this (or that thing I have at home)".

Which is another side effect of retail, if being surrounded by and considering endless items & combinations of clothing: I sometimes sound dangerously like Daria's sister Gwen ("oh, that is so cuuuuuute!!")....

So I can either get used to it and accept what a who're for retail the retail industry has made me or I can rise up against, rebel, take a stand--regain my dignity and favorite color!  ....or as this is, of course, what pays my rent and may, prospectively, allow me to enjoy the time to write and otherwise pursue things I care about..... I can sit here and simply muse, as I am, about the loss of "individuality", the "sacrifices" made, in growing older and needing paychecks.

Is it worth it? Have I even really lost anything or am I just being (typically) hyperbolic?

Comments

Other things that might interest you...

This moment: A tattoo.

So I read Mrs. Dalloway in high school, and it was perhaps the most beautiful thing I'd ever read. One passage in particular, very early in the book, hit me hard with my first experience of the sublime, and stayed with me—and led at last to my first tattoo.
In people’s eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June.  (Emphasis added; full paragraph included below. From the full text of the novel as made available by the University of Adelaide.)

The paragraph this is from, the 4th paragraph of the novel, is the 1st passage with the stream of consciousness the book is famous for; although self-limited here, the flow is no less gorgeous. In the passage, Clarissa is walking on a street to get those famous flowers herse…

A Valentine's Special.

Yeah, I'm one of those guys who's never really been with someone around Valentine's. I am sometimes baffled how other people manage these things--and why I can't. To be fair, it's probably as much my not trying enough and trying too hard as it is anything pariticularly wrong with me. Like, I know I don't get myself out there enough to meet guys and when I do it's probably compensatory and usually flawed from the start.

The other question is--why does it matter so much to me? Evidently it seems like something I want but something I'm scared of, too. It may also be something I'm just not very good at. I'm secretly timid and fearful of most confrontation and directness. For all my communication skills, I always seem to chicken out when it comes to talking to guys in a healthy, sustaining way. I'm a dreamer who wants something nice badly enough to stick to something for the concept of having it more than the reality of dealing with it; I want to…

Rocky Horror - Better than Glee.

You know, I've routinely refused to watch Glee. Like whoa. I've seen bits, it's amusing, but not my thing. Plus how can I be a properly pretentions intellectual fag if I don't look down on & snub snobbily some ragingly popular thing?? It's just not proper decorum, really.

I'm also in a Rocky Horror Picture Show shadowcast (website in progress, but that's us :)). Naturally, they were all excited about that Glee episode when they first heard about it; I on the other hand gave a pained smile and said "Isn't that special. I'm still not watching it."

Part of me's pretty glad I didn't, frankly. (hah! get it? like Tim Curry.)