When You're Not Looking

I indulged in Taco Bell today, for old times sake. Mexican pizza & a beef burrito supreme, please? I would kill to go back to the days of constant drunken Taco Bell...and no responsibilites, of course.

I took my plants, including soome of my more developed seedlings outside today. I was and still am a little nervous about them being outside and all. Silly, I know. But when the first batch died, I told Josh that we were horrible parents. Anyway, I guess the mechanical agitation of the wind is good for them.

I researched the whole music-plant thing. Music prolly has no effect on plants, with the exception of possible mechanical agitation. More likely, it has an effect on the gardener, who is paying more attention to the plants to see if the experiment works. I'm still playing the tiny seedlings in my laundry closet music though. Today it was merengue. Tomorrow its either Postal Service or Lil Jon. Meh, who knows?

I feel a lil silly being so involved with this plant thing right now. But I'm trying to put down some roots (forgive the pun), even if they're potted roots. Plus, it's spring, fockers! And, to quote one Morgan, "I'm a fucking pretty, pretty princess".

Talked to my mom today. She had Ryanne for the night, and Ryanne blew a raspberry at me over the phone. She loves blowing raspberries, saying "no", shaking things, and pounding on mirrors and windows. What can I say? I'm enthralled.

Anyway, I guess it (the filing of the divorce) was in the newspaper today. Oddly enough, I wanted to ask her to clip it out & send it to me.

Lately, I've gone through all my pictures, familial and otherwise, and wrote who, what, when, when, and any memories I have. For posterity's sake, for my sake. I grew up, knowing exactly where I came from and always having a good understanding of myself. Now as my old life crumbles around me, I need to hold on to something.

Now I'm not sure where I am or where I'm going. As Andy said to Phil, "I'm sort of in a transistion". I'm a stereotypical angry 20-somethng, not yet jaded. Angry, becase I'm in part of life where home isn't home, and here isn't home. Its in the bathtub with steam & quiet thoughts. Its there on a drunken Sunday, when I'm talking religion with some Marine who thinks he found divine intervention on the shitter in Iraq. Its there at Arby's as I prep food. It exists in the tears that spread slowly on my pillow at night. Home exists in that singular moment's self.

Right now, I'm homesick for a home that doesn't exist. Some things can't be taken away...
the feeling of winter's cold, clean night air entering your lungs...
the way it smells when they start plowing the fields...
how you can smell the rain before it storms in summer...
I do miss more tangible things, but those simple pleasures I miss.

All this & more, I've decided, is why I'm prone to writing more day-to-day things now. I'm not striving for "deep" like I did in high school. I need to hold on the momentary selves, collect them, follow them down the primrose path. Hopefully, it evolves past merengue for my flowers.

posted by molly @ 7:03 PM