Another weekend, another Michael, another party. I went to my favorite antiques store and found two martini glasses with cobalt blue stems to give Michael and his housemate Paula as a housewarming gift. Mo was there, and Trish, and the other Michael, and Lunesse, plus assorted spouses and coworkers. I soundly abused Trish for taking extreme closeups of my double chin at a previous party. There was a lot of chili and Shiner bock on hand. It was quite a fun evening, but I have no shocking tales of decadence to report. Lunesse had some gorgeous pearlized pants on, and Mo had glittery stuff on her face, but that was as rock'n'roll as it got. Our most animated conversation was about Operating Systems. We're geeks, man.
As I left the party I fell into a self-critical mood. I always feel as though I've made a fool of myself at parties because I'm often unguarded in my speech when I get excited about something I'm saying. I love the sound of my own voice too much, and afterwards I think, "Why did I say that? More importantly, why didn't I finish my thought and my sentence?" I go through life ashamed of my inability to control myself. My natural impulses are at odds with how I wish to be perceived, and the conflict often leaves me feeling disappointed with myself.
On the way home I stopped by Nordstrom and picked up my new black stretch jeans. I bought them last week but had to have them hemmed since I am apparently too shrimpy for my waist size. If something fits me in one area it's all wrong in another, so I invariably have to have my pants taken up three or four inches. I would like to have shopped, but I got there too late to do more than finger a lovely purple organza skirt. It's just as well. I have no occasion to wear formal clothing. The last time I wore a floor length skirt was 1975 and I was dating someone in ROTC at the University of Washington; in other words, a lifetime ago.
You know how some people are said to be born with old souls? I was born with a teenage soul, I think. I've gone through lifestyles like I was borrowing my friends' clothes. Sometimes I barely recognise myself in old photos. I am a bundle of inconsistencies. For a long time I was interested in acting because I wanted to try being someone else all the time. Eventually, I decided that was a bad profession for someone as malleable as I was. I really admire people who know who they are and what they want and just go in a straight line. I've spent my life veering all over the place. But it's amazing how much I've experienced over the years, too. If it took me far too long to get someplace, at least the journey was interesting.
I still don't know what the destination is.
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