I Would Like...Snow. Please.

Why do I want snow? See the photo above. Yeah, it's cold and wet and terrible after awhile but when it first falls, it's my favorite kind of magic. All lovely white fat flakes and coating everything with a layer of icy crystals.
Oh you know. You can take the ice princess away from the snow but it's in her soul.


Well, well, well. A little swipe from Perez Hilton's site, that would Lourdes, the daughter of Madonna, carrying the same Loop bag that I also have.
Very cool!
Much better than that time I opened an International Male catalog (caters exclusively to the more flamboyant gent) and saw a male model wearing my Heavy Rotation hot dog high five tee.


I went onto Craigslist the other night and poked around for a few hours. Checking out the apartment listings and personals. It's a guilty pleasure of mine, well the latter is anyway. I saw one ad this guy had put up that was by far and away the most decent, funny one of the bunch. I decided to sleep on the possibility of responding (it is NOT something I do, ever).
I went to sleep and suffered a nightmare that I went back home and nobody there wanted to see me so I just wandered around my old neighborhood. Then I woke up.
There is this feeling that creeps into me every now and then. It's one that most of the time I try to never expose to anyone else, to show. Even now I'm tentative to write it.
The feeling is occasional loneliness.
This isn't some boo-hoo, I need a soulmate or I'm going to slit my wrists in a bathtub pity feeling. It's just a thought that I have in which I view life as a very long, winding street. Along the way, you take a different turn and you meet new people and the old ones just fall behind you into a memory vault in your head. Nobody wants to ever think they'll be forgotten but in truth, we're all forgotten to someone. Someone doesn't remember me and I don't remember someone else. It's never intentional but you can't help forgetting. If everyone remembered everything, can you possibly imagine it? I remember I heard a news story once about a man who couldn't forget and it drove him to insanity.
Forgetting is good. Even if we don't think so, it is.
I sent the guy an e-mail. We'll see where it goes. I'm hopeful but with enough cynicism to not hold my breath. When it comes to sticking eggs in a basket, I put in one and hold the rest back.

Love to you all,
Heather