 December 28, 2005 - Rob Thomas Concert Review - December 24, 2005 - shortest entry ever on nothing else but Love - December 20, 2005 - Hate it or Love it... - December 11, 2005 - Long time coming, but this is good - May 24, 2005 - Loads of gorgeous girls...not in here - |
APHIE'S RANTS AND PIECES
November 08, 2004 - 11:17 p.m. - a sniff and a whistle and the breeze is gone to the sniffles Sometimes, I just want to go to work without any makeup on, wear black baggy clothing, very rumpled clothing, and just walk in there like some bohemian goddess with a long cup of coffee in my hand, and without a stitch of make up on. But then, I stop and put on mascara, and stop to find less rumpled clothes, more form-fitting clothes, and then, a dash of lipstick, and then, it's too late to make whatever statement I intended to when I went to bed and when I woke up. I sometimes think, what am I rebelling against if I do that, Whose Rights? People's Freedom to choose, People's Freedom from job burnout, our Freedom to chose whatever profession we want, and to live, love and marry wherever and whenever we want. But then, my disheveled self won't succeed in changing all that, so that's why I cave in and put on a teeny tiny biut of lipstick and even then, people are wondering, what's wrong with me. Did you have a rough night last night, girl? Are you a bit tired are you girl? What am I really rebelling against, myself, my self from being locked in. I feel as if I am in a fixed rate, a locked in rate as they say, that sounded good at first until the market improved (or otherwise) and now my wonderful locked in rate doesn't seem so good after all. Now, I just want to break free from the contract, but I don't want to incur any penalties. You know, metaphorically speaking? Who sold me that rate, and why did it seem like such a bargain at the time? Why didn't I aim higher, or wait a little longer for the market to improve. Maybe I should wear black, maybe that would help me negotiate? At night, when I am by myself and I am doing something, maybe in the kitchen and it is all quiet apart from the neighbors footsteps pounding on the ceiling, I talk to myself, and respond as if he is there, watching me, leaning over the counter, wondering what is this dishwashing you are doing, and how sadly common it is, yet it fascinates me. We have normal conversations and he laughs just a tad, like a snicker and then, I chuckle back only I am chuckling to an empty apartment with the refrigerator humming behind me. Why do I do this to myself? Maybe I should wear black, maybe that would stop the hallucinations, delusions, and speak irate words without me having to open my mouth at all. back track - fast forward - history aphie's chronicles - aphie's transcripts aphie's other personality - aphie's diary rings tell aphie you read her work - 
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