The girl at work wore the shirt I really like today. It had me flustered. The other girl - the one whose hair I really like - wore a really great skirt, but I'd say she's usually just an above average dresser to begin with, probably in the top 10-15%. It was a good day for clothes, generally.
All is not well in the world, though. man on the bus this morning was typing a letter to someone - a girl - that was like the letters high school guys who are just sick in love (not like cold or flu sick, like a prion brain wasting disease sick), except this one was talking about how the "No Contact Order is keeping me from being true" and so forth.
The language he used made me think more generally the language that is used when there are strong emotions involved. And for anger and stuff, I guess it's socialized - that you see someone smash their car and they swear a blue streak. That's anger. Okay - anger. Sadness and love, I think, are more often informed by media. You sort of repeat what the sick in love people do in the movies - Lloyd Dobler style - or what the crazy sad people do on the news. They should, I think, teach kids more about how they should act in a given situation. And my grandmother should teach it. The answer is to be disappointed. Did someone bake you a cake? You are disappointed. Did someone die? You are disappointed (at the living people). Did someone do the Peter Gabriel boombox thing? Disappointed. Always always always. Moor your psyche to that rock and let it weather every possible storm.
I'm beginning to think some people hate me. I will keep you updated ont his as things progress, but here's a preliminary list: my building manager, that girl at the coffee place, the guy who sold me the suit, my boss, most of the people in our London office, all of the women who sit near me and this one assistant upstairs (I think she is neat, but I can imagine her pushing me down the stairs if given the chance, which makes me like her even more).
