re-wrap

shoved all sweaty with all my worldly possessions into this new cocoon. the day of relocation was a version of hell i shan't recount in any great detail. suffice it to say that certain movers were in a certain kind of rush, creating a frantic atmosphere that caused me, among other mishaps, to nearly leave behind the contents of my 'goodie' drawer [imagine the new homeowners inspecting an otherwise vacant armoir and coming across those unmentionables?]. except for the occasional (deserved) cigarette and rootbeer break in the back of a stifling truck, the movers hauled ass. having already purged and pre-downsized, i was mortified to observe the sheer volume of crap that is, apparently, my life. they say not to let your things define you, but i dare say i am carefully manipulated organized clutter -- like ikea on the outside and big bud's inside. and now that i've re-located all that nonsense to a new address, i'm reminded of how despite decreased square footage, it's still just another version of solitude. but somehow i know it's the right thing to do, and the right time, and so it's for the best. whatever that is.

sometimes i wish i was an alt-indie chick like tegan or sara or a diva like mary j, living the life of an artist, unsettled and free of convention. then i realize that is actually my life now, minus the songwriting talent, roadies, and sheer balls. i suppose it's easy when one is so utterly overwhelmed with Reality to fantasize about the ease of other choices.

i'm clamoring all over incompatible email programs to try and open the photos of that mini high school reunion i recently didn't attend. it's not the receding hairlines and pregnancy fat i'm interested in. it's as if i somehow need to get a glimpse of some kind of road not taken, what could have been. to verify what? that i screwed up? maybe i need a sign that my classmates found their way to a place better than mine. or that they even still exist. long frozen in time, they've been. so a fake smile captured in a regina pool hall would be proof of what, exactly?