(no subject)

I dyed my hair today, hopefully darker than it was. It's been irritating me lately but I didn't want to go back to black either. What I really need to do is break down and have a professional dye it blue. I've always wanted blue hair. However I am unwilling to do it myself. Ehh. We'll see how this goes.

Work was so fucked up and chaotic that I don't even want to type it out. Blah.

I spent the morning visiting my mother, running a couple errands. Thinking about going out tonight. We'll see.

photographs of you

I found one of my favorite photographs today, of me at sixteen. It was taken in front of the opera house in Paris, where I was wearing Christian's shirt and my Docs. I can't remember who took the picture for me. My hair was so long back then, and I was so skinny. I can hardly remember that girl. I do remember being very sad, and lonely, and listening to Depeche Mode on the balcony over the sea at Normandy. It sounds so much more romantic than it really was.

Hard to explain, how I'm happy and sad at the same time. Happy for the freedom of this new life, happy for so many things that are right and better now. Sad for things that never were or can't be, things that for the most part have never existed outside my head. I have always lived too much there, inside. These created worlds and lives sustained me in the absence of more tangible ones.

In one of the boxes I found my acceptance letter into UT, and the program from my grandfather's funeral. There were two comics, carefully preserved in layers of scotch tape. All the articles published in the Texan, a clipping of the staf listing with my name in the credits. My notebooks from 1999 to 2001, full of class notes, Russian letters to no one, bad writing and hysterical journal entries. A magazine article about Nabokov, and one about people who fake suicides online in their blogs. It was strange to touch those things.

I'm getting older, and sometimes I wonder if I'll always be living this way.