November 18, 1998
Yesterday was a horribly unproductive day, and Monday night I was in a horrible mood. Now it is early Wednesday morning, early early, and I think maybe the weather is starting to click into place for me. I hate this adjustment period, where the chilly air and the misting rain are annoyances rather than welcomed as fact.
We had another salon Tuesday evening, and it was on 'holidays,' which I must admit was a topic I was not really looking forward to, but necessity is the second cousin to my inventions, so I brought along an Over The Rhine CD, which I just remembered is still in Tom and Jon's player, and the CD case is in my car. Damn, this must be rectified, and soon. The CD is entitled The Darkest Night of the Year, and is a nice selection of wintry and mellow Christmas tunes. I cannot wait to see them at Schuba's in the beginning of December.
The salon was very mellow, given that we only had four people. I talked a lot about the Christmases that almost didn't happen for me, and we all bemoaned the life of a retail schmuck, having to deal with the annoying customers at this time of year. And yes, I am one of those schmucks. I'm not quite so jaded about it, since my personality has a resiliency about evil customers that I learned from working in a cafe for so long. But it still does bother me that most people who are problematic and caustic customers during the holiday season feel it is alright to make the average retail clerk their verbal punching bag.
I brought my little plastic box, the one which has various corsages from past proms and dances that I went to in high school. Yes, I still have these. I am not sure why I do, but it seemed a good idea at the time, and I have not found a compelling reason to throw them away. Also included in this box is a Ziploc bag containing the needles from the last Christmas tree my family had as a family, and in my old house, which I miss a lot. This house I lived in for 12 years, this house with turret and mystery, this house that had a glorious staircase. This image of me descending said staircase in my wedding gown, my mother's eyes filling with tears. But no. A bankruptcy and a divorce later, and we were out into the world, with ten rooms of furniture and no money, nowhere to go to.
I must admit, I was not the bright spot tonight during the salon. Nor was I all that dark, either. I just haven't had these stellar holidays. My mom would usually get a migraine on Christmas morning, and we proceeded as normally and quietly as we could as she lay on the couch in front of the tree. Another Christmas was almost non-existent as money was tight, and everyone's attention seemed to be diverted elsewhere. I am not bitter, but I do expect the holidays to be special, and when they don't meet my expectations, I am simply able to go on, and hope that next season is better.
Winter is now settling in, and I like the anticipation of snow and of greyness and clarity. I know I will miss the sunshine somewhat, but I so love the coldness, the excuse to hibernate inside my thoughts, the snuggling and the quiet of my thoughts. I drink more tea during this time, and I can curl my hair without fearing that it will fall down from humidity and frizziness. I feel more like myself; and I can wear more clothes. I like layers. I wear a good deal of Scott's clothes. He has a lot of nice colors I like to wear, dark greens and purples and greyblues... I think he's amused by it.
I hate this. I sit down to write, and nothing that was in my head appears magically like I wanted it to. I had so many things I wanted to type about, and none of them are in my head. So sorry, maybe the coming days will bring more.