Lets Get Crafty

Today was a good haul.

Got these awesome leather, oxford style ankle boots. They're amazing. I am in love with them. I have a picture that I saved a while back of some that I loved, and the ones I found today look similar. Only shorter.

I found them in this amazing vintage store in Dallas called Dolly Python. Their jewelry was also gorgeous, but since it's vintage and I only had $40 on me, boots came first. But that place has everything. Literally. One of my friends was this close to buying an antique grenade with the pin still in that the owner wasn't sure was live or not. Then we found another one.

There were also all types of vintage cameras, records, knick-knacks, art, furniture. You feel cool just being inside the store. I just wish we had more time to look around and that I was a billionaire..so frikken' baaadkillmenow.

Monsters with Sleepy-time Tea

I have a somewhat odd way of falling asleep. I only play this game if I'm getting frustrated with my brain because it won't stop talking to itself. What I do is this: I pretend a group of 5 assassins (one for every member of the family) has infiltrated my house and has orders to watch over us while we sleep and to kill anyone who seems awake. And I can be a great actress when I want to be (at sleeping anyway). I remind myself that these assassins are no fools and they know all the tell-tale signs of someone who is REALLY asleep. So I begin to take slower, deeper breaths. My fingers or toes twitch a little, as sleeping people's do, but apart from that, I relax all my muscles to remain completely still. If I do shift, I remember to remain loose and to not particularly care where my arms fall, etc.

I had to use this last night as it was going on 5:30am and that is just ridiculous.

I was asleep within minutes.

You don't always have to suffer for Fashion, Mr. Barnes

Need:

Tank tops (black, grey, etc.)

Solid color skirts (olive green!)

Black tights (I think I have)

Textured tights (anything but fishnets, plz)

Boots (sans rain)

Normal, plain shirts (single colored, white!! v-neck or boat-neck or something-neck)

Necklaces (to liven up the normal, plain shirts)

Colored shorts (patterned, or sold colored light blue, lavender, green, etc. Can find at Target, apparently)

Belts

The idea is to be able to mix and match those shirts with fun colored bottoms. It's subtly stylish and charming and something I'd very much like to add to my wardrobe.

Also, I look mentally ill if I wear my hair like that.

It's not worth it. Speculation and stupid hope. You don't need this. Or him. He's chosen. Time to move on.

So why can't I? Should this process be this cyclical? This is what happens, never fail: I remember something lovely about our time "together." I bask in it and fantasize and remember. Then reality comes back from its hiding place and makes it hurts like nothing concrete ever will. I become hopeless, depressed, listless, self conscious, ashamed. I start to really hate myself. Then I start to really hate him. I fantasize more about petty situations where he realizes what a mistake he's made. This gives me pseudo-confidence and I secretly begin to hope against hope there's still a chance he's already realized and is working on a plan to win me back. So, I go to figure out what he's been up to. Reality comes back and this time, has a bucket of icy water to douse my brain in. I can't think. I can only feel this overdose of concentrated, acid-like emotion pounding through my skull.

But then, suddenly, my brain finally wakes up. It reminds me what a loser this guy was when I was with him and probably, always will be. I remember the things that warned me during the relationship that this guy wasn't good for me. I remember the things I ignored or rationalized away from the perfect image of love I had of him. I remember how tolerant and pathetic I became, and how I don't ever want to be like that again. I see him as he truly is, finally.

After these revelations, I barely think about him. As a test, I suggest to myself to go and look what he's been up to recently, and am unbearably excited by how I don't care enough to find out. I feel like I might be finally over him, when a song comes on that makes me remember the good again.

I guess I'll have to live with these temptations to remember the good times. But I know remembering them is not helpful or wise. It's indulgent. It's moronic. It's teen-ish. Shouldn't I be more in control of myself? Yeah, I should. And to be fair, while the cycle hasn't failed me yet, it's slowing down. I'm optimistic at the moment. And hopefully, when I start to remember the good, my brain's final spurt of logic before the fantasies begin will be to bring me back here to read what I've just written.