Mood: Persistently Wobbly
Drinking: Diet 7Up
Do dark clouds need a reason to descend? Do they require flames or wind? Do they have their own secret almanac, their own private entrance? Do they listen to a mad-hatted psychic who tells them that now would be a fortuitous time to bring the rain down on me?
I’ll never know.
But I am far too heavy for my little world. Not just today, but for the past several. I cannot point a finger and make it land on a rational excuse. I am just here, and glowering.
Yesterday on the street, a strange man walking toward me bent and said, “Very beautiful woman.”
And I said, “That’s easy to say when you don’t really know me.”
But he cheered me up, anyway. Yes, I am that superficial.
Then I wandered on home and watched Howl’s Moving Castle. And when Howl bursts into tears because his hair is all the wrong color and throws a mighty wizardly tantrum (complete with oozing green goo) because he no longer feels beautiful, I allowed myself three minutes of self-righteous hypocrisy.
“Stupid ass.” I thought. “Blubbering because he thinks his hair looks stupid. What a pussy!”
Meanwhile, bombs are heedlessly obliterating Beirut and I am a silly American girl, letting the mirror dictate my day. Who’s the ass now?
Boy said he’s worried because I’ve been sad for weeks.
But the clouds are familiar, and I’m not afraid. I’ve been happy for so long now. A little rain never hurt anything.
Right?
-Lo, who has drawn maps of the doldrums.
LaDonnaWitmer 