not much of anything

Chocolate mousse for breakfast, pineapple juice and sleeping late. These things I love about being an adult.

Didn't mean to sleep so late, and there are lots of things I shold be doing. But it's tempting to just stay in this morning, comfortable and reading. Tonight is our Get Dressed Up and Go Eat Steak celebration. Maybe Melynda and I will see Harry Potter again too.

if you could see me now

Kneeling in the shower, washing my hair, with the stereo turned up loud enough to hear down the hall, my lips stained with pomegranate juice and the black running down my fingers. I am something to see in moments like these.

Today, with the rain sheeting down, is a good day to reclaim things that were mine. An old cd in the stereo, a song I listened to as a child and never knew until much later. Dyeing my hair, a new color this time. Blue black, night. And there's almost sunlight out there now.

For me, it's something to do slowly, carefully in candlelight. Mixing the potion, running my hands through my hair (so much shorter than before), watching myself sing along in the mirror. Standing naked and following the lines of my arms, my hips against the counter. Eating pomegrante while I wait, macerating the seeds and staining my fingers.

Yesterday I was dancing and singing under my breath to the Counting Crows while I shelved children's books, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Ryan watching me from the back. It hit me then that I had never really been invisible. Because, you see, it never occured to me that people weren't looking right through me.

even better if you know me well enough to know the reason I stopped playing piano

If I were a Dead Russian Composer, I would be Sergei Rakhmaninov. I lived in the early Twentieth Century and was well known for my compositional, conducting, and piano skills, yet I am melancholy despite this talent. My famous works include my nearly-impossible piano concerti. Who would you be? Dead Russian Composer Personality Test