Return to (ab)Normal
I'm not a big believer in normal. Normalcy is not something I aspire to, or ever have aspired to. It just seems like another word for boring. And the people desperately seeking normal lives, or worse: people that believe that their lives constitute normal and anyone that deviates from their prescribed path(s) is ab-or-subnormal, kind of scare me.
Whatever. I picked my phone up today and my replacement SIM card is arriving tomorrow, so for those with my number, I'll be back on it in about a day or so.
I also bought some notebooks today. Beyond a shadow of a doubt the most expensive stationery I've ever purchased. I felt so guilty I gave one to my mom. Smythson on New Bond St are superb but not cheap. And I didn't look at prices. Because, well, the notebooks were small and how expensive can notebooks be?? Very is the answer. And the girl at the register was pretty, so when she told me the amount - instead of hollering in indignation and putting the notebooks very carefully back on their respective shelves, I gave her my credit card. I attempted nonchalance. I left the shop and did some sums in my head. Even when I was employed I couldn't really have afforded them.
I just took them out of their individual boxes. They smell nice. On close inspection, they are without doubt the finest of notebooks and were I already a successful writer I wouldn't dream of purchasing anything else. But I'm not yet. And these are not going to make the words I put in them any better. In fact, is it possible I may be frightened to deface them with idle thoughts? I hope not. Yeah, I spent too much money. No, I really can't afford it. But it's done now. I'm not bringing them back. I will use them. They're part of my toolkit now, they're cheaper than the iMac I'm writing this on, and less likely to break. The words I scrawl in them will some day pay for them and more like them. They will travel everywhere with me.
And if I lose one, I'll be thorough in the search before screaming drunkenly that I've been pick-pocketed.
So I've got my phone back and I'm spending money I can't afford.
It's all back to normal.
Whatever. I picked my phone up today and my replacement SIM card is arriving tomorrow, so for those with my number, I'll be back on it in about a day or so.
I also bought some notebooks today. Beyond a shadow of a doubt the most expensive stationery I've ever purchased. I felt so guilty I gave one to my mom. Smythson on New Bond St are superb but not cheap. And I didn't look at prices. Because, well, the notebooks were small and how expensive can notebooks be?? Very is the answer. And the girl at the register was pretty, so when she told me the amount - instead of hollering in indignation and putting the notebooks very carefully back on their respective shelves, I gave her my credit card. I attempted nonchalance. I left the shop and did some sums in my head. Even when I was employed I couldn't really have afforded them.
I just took them out of their individual boxes. They smell nice. On close inspection, they are without doubt the finest of notebooks and were I already a successful writer I wouldn't dream of purchasing anything else. But I'm not yet. And these are not going to make the words I put in them any better. In fact, is it possible I may be frightened to deface them with idle thoughts? I hope not. Yeah, I spent too much money. No, I really can't afford it. But it's done now. I'm not bringing them back. I will use them. They're part of my toolkit now, they're cheaper than the iMac I'm writing this on, and less likely to break. The words I scrawl in them will some day pay for them and more like them. They will travel everywhere with me.
And if I lose one, I'll be thorough in the search before screaming drunkenly that I've been pick-pocketed.
So I've got my phone back and I'm spending money I can't afford.
It's all back to normal.