2003-09-02
Autumn. Feh.
It's a cold, rainy and altogether miserable day in Boston. It's almost as if someone just pulled a lever and shut down summer for good. Like, "Oh, you weren't finished with that? Too friggin' bad!"
Ordinarily, I'm a big fan of autumn. It means that my birthday is coming up soon, as well as my wedding anniversary. It means that I can start wearing my fall clothes, which just look better on me in terms of my coloring. It means I get to start planning what I'm gonna be for Halloween, even though I haven't been to a costume party in at least three years.
For some reason, though, this year I feel like I've been kinda cheated out of having a "real" summer, whatever that means. I got dressed this morning, and for the first time since May, I'm wearing tights and my faux-Doc Martens. That's FALL GEAR, chickens, and we're barely out of August. It's not like I'm one to romp around in those itty bitty shorts, what with the backs of my legs looking more and more like one of them AAA road maps they sell at the gas station, but, you know, come on. Does it really have to barely hit 60 degrees out there today? Was that really necessary?
So I'm sitting in my cube, growling to myself, when my coworker � fresh from a week's vacation in South Carolina or where-the-fuck-ever � sails in wearing lime green capris and flip-flops. I stared at her, aghast.
"Dude, you are in such denial about what it's doing out there."
"What do you mean?"
"It's COLD outside! It's raining! There are....students....swarming all over the place! The summer is over!"
"No!"
I've spent today calling her "Denial Girl."
"Why, what is that flip-flopping sound? The sound of someone with completely inappropriate footwear? Golly � it's Denial Girl!"
The other thing that's troubling me is the recent invitation I received for my 15-year high school reunion in November (as the houseboy said, "Only in Hingham would they throw a 15-year reunion."). I went to the 10-year reunion, and it was....feh. It was nice, and I got to see some people that I'd been wondering about, but in the same way that I continue to harp about not ever having gone to my prom, I want this to be more than what it actually is. I want the sick, sad satisfaction of learning that some Unattainable Boy (you insert the terms: football player, salutatorian, editor of the school paper, rich kid) pined for me � PINED! � or something equally as nauseating or predictable. I don't, really, except maybe I kind of do.
I've been going over this at length with a friend of mine. "Nobody will remember who I am," she mused, "They'll all be like, �Who are you? You didn't go to our school!'"
"Of course they'll remember you. At the very least, they'll pretend they remember you. Understand that they're all in their 30's now, and probably still live in Hingham. They've all turned into their mothers, and that's just what you DO."
Our theory is that all we have to do is go up to every third woman and say, "Hi, Jen!" Then they'll have to pretend they know who we are.
lisamcc at 2:27 p.m.
3 comments so far
lily
2003-09-02 16:43:18
Hi Lisa, My own thoughts are often in the wrong place, where yours are in the appropriate place. This is after all, your diary. I think it is downright(unable to even consider how to describe a critic of one's own diary)unbelievably creepy and scary...to say the least. You are a smart lady...and, I think you are a riot to read, and I like your natural ability to write down your thoughts and occurrences(sp?)in your life. I have been writing a few lines in my own diary. Mine sounds like a diary of a loser, winnner, obnoxious, sweet, divine, intelligent, not so intellingent, almost kind, quite kind, and...so on...person. LOL Lily
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dodo
2003-09-02 18:41:22
aww, i'm like Denial Girl only b/c I'm ObliviousGrrl -- i'm always well-dressed for the previous day's weather.....
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S. Decay
2003-09-13 18:18:07
I went to my ten-year reunion some ten years ago. They had an award for "longest distance traveled to attend," but none for the shortest distance traveled. A pity, as I'd have won the latter (two and a half blocks). Most of the people I'd assumed would turn into brokendown drug-addled no-account malcontents made a showing in suits and ties and quickly proferred photos of offsprings and easy, self-confident words about their "careers." I made a showing as a brokendown drug-addled no-account malcontent. My hair was out of control and much of the way to my waist, entirely unlike the out of control short hair of my teens. "Wow," people would laugh, "what happened to you?!" "I got into a bad car accident," I replied. That's when conversation would become strained and I'd head back to the bar. Happy Birthday LisaMcC.
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