The other day I was spring cleaning, that odious task that brings in new energy, a new way of being, a loss of ten pounds and more money (if all the self-help/organization/feng-shui books are to be believed -- I'll let you know how it works out), I found my high school yearbook, something I have not touched in a long time. While I experienced a fair amount of humiliation over the clothing choices and lack of eyebrow care, I can say that I have the same hairstyle and the comments that people wrote indicate that my personality remains pretty much the same. I have not shifted my goals or changed my course. This should surprise no one. I am a Taurus, the sign most prone to obstinacy -- my fellow travelers include Freud, Malcolm X, Louis Farrakhan, James Brown, and Machiavelli; the last two of this list were born on my actual birthday.
If I am to take the comments in my yearbook seriously, it seems as if I promised to use my friends as characters for my fiction, a promise I am proud to say on which I've made good. “My life this year would not make a good story,” one of my dear friends wrote. “It’s too conformed. You’ll have to make it up.” I disagree with him completely; he was, without doubt, one of the most interesting people I knew in those days. But the very subject of high school itself evokes a lot of strong emotion even years after for some people I know. “I fear people who say high school was the best time of their lives,” one of my friends says. "They tend to be stunted jerks." “High school was the best time of my life,” says another friend. "No bills, no cares." For me, it’s just like this time except that I’m not eating Munchos and Dr. Pepper for lunch. I’ve evolved into Luna Bars and Dr. Pepper. Sometimes I branch out with a Sprite. That's a big step for one born in May! Change, as all the self-help books exhort, is possible.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"If heartaches were commercials, we'd all be on tv." John Prine
Drinking novel suggestion: A Changed Man Francine Prose
Benedictions and Maledictions