they call me the six year old...

I would to heaven that I were so much clay,
As I am blood, bone, marrow, passion, feeling—
Because at least the past were pass’d away
And for the future—(but I write this reeling,
Having got drunk exceedingly to-day,
So that I seem to stand upon the ceiling)
I say—the future is a serious matter—
And so—for God’s sake—hock and soda-water!

That was written on the back of Lord Byron’s manuscript of Canto I for Don Juan. It made me laugh a lot. I really wish that I was a poet. Not one that writes songs and interesting new ways to look at life and love, but the old fashioned kind whose life depended on spitting out rhymes and verse and comedy and tragedy. With some people it just comes naturally, so who am I to try and fake it?
Interesting time today- I decided to go through my clothes. I have all kinds of clothes left over from my previous life that sit in drawers and wait for me to come home and play with them again. I rarely do. And this weekend I brought all kinds of new clothes home with me, and there simply was not enough room to add the old and new together. So I went through all of them and kept some and threw some out. As any girl should know, when you go through old stuff, you get all excited and want to play with it again… well clothes are no different. So after about seven different combinations of clothes just for fun, I ended up wearing this amazing purplish hippie skirt, a white beater like normal, and this huge black belt on my hips as the defining line where my shirt stopped and the skirt began. And to top it all off, my hair went through some odd transformations until eventually landing in a topsy turvy ponytail! Once again, girls PLEASE tell me you know what I’m talking about. I mean how early 90’s can we get? So I’m running around my room which is completely strewn over with clothes from the last five to ten years of my life and listening to all my music (mostly showtunes) on ‘random’ through my sub-woofer I figured out how to connect to my laptop. And of course you can’t listen to showtunes without acting them out, so I was flipping almost instantaneously from Jesus Christ Superstar to Wicked to Into the Woods and back. Oh, and with a little bit of Mariah Carey in there *wink*. Then I stopped to read a little bit of Don Juan but was completely interrupted by my cat who was standing outside the glass door to the kitchen with a mouse hanging from her mouth meowing as best she could and wanting to come in. I laughed and told her to be quiet and that I was NOT going to let her in but thanks for the present anyway. By then I couldn’t focus on Lord Byron so I gave up. It’s still raining. And I’m still wearing the skirt. Welcome to the little child randomness that is me at home.