Vanishing Chapstik

Approximately twelve hours ago, walking in the rain and sick, I went into a CVS. Items on me with pockets were my coat, my scarf with pockets on the ends, and a pair of jeans. I was carrying a purple canvas bag, with screen printed sneakers on it. I have had it since my youth. It has been filled with many things. These days it is filled with my tools for ceramics.

While at this CVS, I walked around the Cold Remedy isle. That's actually what it says on the placard above the isle, Cold Remedies. I stare at the great expanse of cold remedies. There are ones you drink, magical elixars hat make your head feel attached again. There are nose sprays that if used for more then three days make you lose your sense of smell. There are organic natural remedies; suckables, chewables, swallowables- ahh yes. DayQuil. Mine sworn enemy. The one that makes my friend sarah super high and giggly. I pick up a box of the orange stuff and proceed to check out.

Whil at the register, being one of three customers in the whole store (it's a rainy friday, can't blame them all) I spy a Blistex pot of lip balm. The blue mentholated kind. The kind that burns. I ask if they have the kind in the Tan pot, the still mentholated but much more palatable kind, and the young woman kindly fetches me one from the next register over.

I walk out, put it on my nose, and take my first breath of fresh air in two days. The Menthol jumps up my nose clears out my head, and the world is sunny. Except that it is still raining and by now I am wet.

I take a DayQuil and forget my troubles for many hours, which I while away making bowls and glazing mugs in the ceramics studio.

It is now 11:15. My head is full of mucus. I am on cold medicine, and can still not breathe. I am looking for my awesome imitation Vick's Blistex DCT lip balm. Because it will make me breathe like a champ.

I cannot find it. It is not in my coat pockets. It is not in my bag, having emptied it out three times of its meager contents I am sure. It is not in the pockets of the scarf, and though I have checked the pants many times it is not there either. It has vanished into thin air.

I call my boyfriend. He does not have it. Of course. He put some on his nose too, he could have had it; it would have been logical. BUT NO. It has vanished into thin air. Which means that in just barely 12 hours, I spent some of the little money I have on it, I used it once, and I lost it to the world.

It's probably chilling with all the lost socks in some sick universe of lost things. SICK I SAY. The most sick thing is that i still have this awful chapstick I got for free from the college fair...three years ago. But the DCT lip balm is gone. Of Course.

Soul satisfying

There is nothing so sinfully soul satisfying as seeing someone you are angry with look fat and short in a dress on a website that all your friends can also see. And after that little gem? Oreos dipped in milk. Yes, the snow may be snowing and the wind may be blowing but my heart is warm with empty trans-fats and malicious intent.

I feel that I should relax now, I should meditate. I need to decide who to tell a story about for my final in storytelling. It would be wonderful to tell with an accent of some sort. Maybe Mary Baker Eddy, because I know a little bit about her. I think it would be fun to do my friend Corina's mom, because Corina's her daughter and she's amazing. As an adult only twenty or so years older than me, she has accomplished so much and stayed so young in all the right ways. Her mother is a fiber artist, who engineers artworks like quilts; except to call them quilts is an insult to what they are and how much artistic work other than the actual stitching really goes into them.

I need to find an artist, or someone wonderful and tell about them. they need to be interesting, and they need to inspire me. It would be wonderful to tell about my grandparents lives or their parents.

Well the oreos are almost all gone, so it's time to go lay down a self portrait.

Dream

I had a dream with Steve-o in it as the villian. I think it was a mix of carbs, Sin City, and TLC.com/LA Ink photogallery. Although reading battle scenes right before bed probably didn't help either. It was complete with homework drama, explosions, Fanciful godlike creatures a la American Gods style (rock the Neil Gaimen), and of course, a knight from A Clash of Kings. (It's a good book, a dwarf just led an army into a sortie where they will most assuredly die. I haven't gotten to the part where they all do die yet, but I am assured by the past events of the book and the specific battle that they will all in fact perish. Except the dwarf. He is a main character, and as such is safe from any main injury. WOOT.)

I have work to do, but I spent an hour turning the dream into a short story. Its surprisingly true to the dream. I filled in the plot points and it just worked in an abstracted kind of epic way. Where some stuff is unexplained, I had to put in parts explaining it though.

Today

Today my ex-choir teacher's husband died. It was an epic decision whether to send flowers, to not send flowers. My mother suggested fruit. I think...I will send fruit. I will put Robbie's and Sarah's names on it as well as mine, as it has been decided that group condolences are always more convenient. Now to find out what should be said; it should be non cheesy, uplifting, not denoting pity but giving sympathy. It should be something important.

"You were really important to all of us as we grew from children into women. Our sympathies in this difficult time, and here is a healthy alternative to flowers to ease your pain." HMmmmmm probably not gonna cut it.