saturday march 8 2002    |    2:52 p.m.

i've been playing hooky for so long!

so. here i am. i still haven't gotten used to being off on weekends. it feels so... normal, so right. amazing. my boyfriend finally got a job, front desk-ing at a small fashion-forward (?) hotel in south beach, so for the first time i think ever, i'm alone in the apartment while he's at work.

this morning, after dropping him off, i put gas in the car and went back home to eat his cereal, check my e-mail, and take an epic nap. i woke up at eleven and beat the evil-ish roommates to the shower. then out to lincoln road with really crappy painful sandals (never again). didn't find the salon (is there a less obnoxious term?) i wanted to check out, so my hair is still awkward and overgrown, but that's what buns are for. had coffee and sat outside the coffee place to chill and look at people, in particular one very realized-looking man riding his segway. they're sort of ridiculous, these astronomically-priced adult toys, but it was my first sighting, so i think i whooped. oh well. coffee was good. people are fun and scary to watch.

i will have to stop calling myself, in my head, a writer, because i haven't produced anything aside from e-mails and website updates and feeble attempts at music reviews or whatever since i graduated. i'm a shitty poet, too, so that's out. i keep rationalizing my inaction away, like i don't have peace + time and i don't have my own computer and i'm not alone enough, but i know that, really, if i wanted to i couldn't be stopped. so what the hell? i don't want to be a professional translator for the rest of my life. not solely, anyway.

i have embraced "hip barber music" as the soundtrack in my head, and my new wild love affair is with the new sea and cake. it took me a long time to find a new love after my whirlwind thing with change, but there it is.

anyway. i want a vacation and a dog. i want my own apartment, for me and the boy, sans roommates. maybe i'd like to go back to school, i don't know. i would like to meet up with my friends in april in massachusetts. i would like to move west. i would like to ask dave pajo what the hell he thinks he's doing, and then shake his hand all the way to the bank. ka-ching. i would like to be a better translator for these people. i want handweights and new pants. i want shoes that fit. i want to not want so many things.

hot damn. it's the weekend. what on earth am i doing online?!