I never would have thought that I would be writing in more than one journal at a time. I used to be so much more anal about these things. But lately I have begun to branch out. This could be a healthy sign of creativity unleashed, OR a sign of Multiple Personality Disorder. I used to be much more afraid of the latter than I am now. I think I might have the psychological maturity to handle a few more personalities. As long as they don’t start opening up charge accounts or going to strip clubs, I think we will get along just fine.
I have been pouring over the Easton Press catalog again. It’s the only other book in here so far besides the notebooks and journals. So between paragraphs I’m thumbing pages. I’ve been muttering to myself that really $20,000 worth of books is not THAT much. Why to some people that’s petty cash right? . . . . . . RIGHT? And I must admit, perhaps I am imagining that they are nicer than they really are. I mean let’s face it, virtually all the titles in this catalog are available free at the local library. They just aren’t leather bound with lavish illustrations and satin ribbon bookmarks. . . Sigh. But you know one has to have SOMETHING they want that’s out of reach. It’s good to have a dream.
I have closed the door and am sitting here in the muffled quiet almost in a state of sensory deprivation. There’s plenty of light, but hardly a sound.
This makes me take notice of what IS in here more closely. On my little desk is a pale terra-cotta flower pot with grapes and grape leaves in a raised pattern on it’s surface. In the pot is a bundle of dried grasses that look very much like wheat that I picked by the side of the road about a year ago with my friend Tamsen. Stuck in the “wheat” is a Red Hawk feather I found on a walk one day in the fields near our house. And perched on top of the whole arrangement is a perfectly preserved (if a bit dusty) dragonfly. A very large one, that chose our backyard as it’s final resting place late last summer. It’s amazingly beautiful and rather creepy at the same time. It has a large body and bulging buggy eyes and huge wings. He looks good when you just glance at him, but I don’t dwell on him too much myself. The creepy aspect can start to overcome the amazingly beautiful part pretty quick like.
Anyway the whole arrangement is tied at the base with a wide, kind of transparent wire edged gold ribbon with holly leaves embossed on it. It’s a pleasant thing to look at, all in all. Especially in here, it keeps my mind off all my clothes hanging behind me. They are much less interesting to be sure, as I am the frumpiest dresser among all my acquaintances. It’s really quite pathetic, but I’m used to it. . . (I sound like Eeyore)
I have a friend who can wear some obscure T shirt with a loose fitting jumper over it. (A jumper, to my Outlander friends, means a sleeveless dress here in the States.) Then she’ll put on a pair of leggings and her Birkenstocks. She looks like a veritable pixie and cute as a button. A regular Holly Hobbie. I could wear the exact same outfit and look like a veritable bag lady. I don’t know WHY, but that’s just the way it IS.
Well, enough already, it’s time for bed. And me fresh out of good books to read. But never fear, my friend D. and I have an outing to the library planned in the morning. I will be surrounded by piles of books soon.
And as you know, I have a LIST !