So, I recently moved into a new house. I also obtained a new housemate, in addition to my previous flatmate, who moved from the flat to the house with me. I'm not British, but flat sounds so much cooler than apartment. So there's extra estrogen in my life with all the female housemates, which can only be amplified by the new PINK bedroom, in which I currently sleep and keep my stuff. And, due to the fact that mummy dearest sells Mary Kay (you need a consultant? She ships anywhere in the continental USA, my friends...and maybe even further, but probably not to the moon. Yet.), I have acquired lots of PINK stuff which I can use to decorate my new PINK room. In addition to that, my good friend Dianna got me one of those shiny metallic balloons that is PINK, looks like a tiara, and says, "Princess" in large princessy letters. This balloon remained airborne, floating near the ceiling, for over six months. And in fact, it was still floating on its side a few inches off the floor, like a dying fish, flipping its little special fin, fighting until the end, when I took a pair of scissors to that sucka, let all the air out, and folded it up to pack to the new house and the new PINK room. Because when a balloon lasts THAT long, it deserves to come with you wherever you go and add PINKness to your life.
So now I have a PINK room with PINK stuffs with a PINK tiara to hang up somewhere...and well, pretty much, I have the bedroom of five-year-old me's dreams.
Thirty-three year old me is coping. Just fine.
The jobs are all going well. My stuff is slowly finding its way out of boxes and into places on shelves or in closets or somewhere inside the depths of my tiny PINK room. I'm hoping to start writing again. And...maybe find some gumption somewhere so that I can start trying to SELL some of my writing...again.
Also, I've had a discovery lately that if Grumpy Cat were a human being, she would pretty much look just like me.
We're practically identical. Also, I taught one of my barely two-year-old preschoolers how to use a banana phone this week. He used his sippy cup, but he still got the general idea. I'm teaching my preschoolers lots of important things, I am.
And speaking of Grumpy Cat and Banana Phones, I'm thinking about going to see Beauty and the Beast--the Broadway musical version. It's coming to a nearby city next week, and I really want to go. This has pretty much been a dream of mine since before Beauty and the Beast--the Broadway musical version--was even a thing. Because about 1991 or so, when the animated Disney flick came out, I was 11 and I was OBSESSED. I would run out into my back yard and start singing "I want adventure in the great wide somewhere! I want it more than I can tell!" Only Philippe would never come and tell me that my Papa had been captured by a Beast in a scary magical castle. And I didn't live in a French village. And I wasn't being pursued by a burly attractive chauvinistic idiot. But who cares, no big deal, I wanted MORE. ...wait, wrong Disney movie....
I wanted to be Belle. And when reality set in and I realized I could never ACTUALLY be Belle (and that Stockholm Syndrome isn't all its cracked up to be), I started praying for a Broadway musical version of Beauty and the Beast so that I could grow up and portray Belle.
Only...musical theater and I could never happen. I can sing all right, but I can't dance. Plus, I'm allergic to rehearsals. And I doubt my acting is as great as I once imagined it was...but I digress.
So basically, I just try to live as much like Belle as possible, and I pray that some day I'll find me a big hairy guy to marry. And maybe a talking tea pot.
And until then, I'll at least try to go see the musical. And try not to sing along with all the songs. Even though I know them all. And probably could sing them rather well.
I still can't dance.
I'm also thinking about seeing the Christian guy group, "Tenth Avenue North" this month, but I have never had any dreams of being a Christian guy group.
Well, until I get my act together and start blogging like a real blogger again, stay PINK, my friends.
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