One Small Girl in a Tree

by Valerie on Wednesday, June 9, 2010

On the coffee table, there’s a mountain pile of tissue soaked in green phlegm, 1 Logitech universal remote control, 36 short films amounting to 11 hours on 4 DVDs of Charlie Chaplin’s short films, 1 copy of The Entrepreneur’s Guide to Sewn Product Manufacturing by Kathleen Fasenella, 8 caplets American Fare Cold & Flu medicine (may cause drowsiness), 2 empty wooden coasters, the Maxx Barry novel Syrup, 1 Webster’s New World Pocket dictionary, and a tube of cherry-flavored chapstick. On the couch, there’s me and a black corduroy comforter. Bah, it’s been over a week. What the duck, antibodies?! Get with it!

After we took these photos some few weeks ago, I asked Francis to scrap them because my outfit was sort of plain Jane. Thank goodness he didn’t because today I’m caving to the sound of those awful chirping crickets.

Sometimes I find myself more open to an outfit/collection/artist/opinion/everything if I can see where it’s coming from:

Cover art for the Broadway musical Once on This Island. This also prompted me to blast the original score on repeat for three-days-straight. You should have seen Francis’s head explode. Poor guy.

I’m not quite sure what’s what with teenagers these days—somehow I get the impression it’s gotta involve that Michael Cera dude or forget about it—but back then, professing your love for Broadway musicals was tantamount to committing social suicide. The art kids created visually stimulating drawings. The band geeks made magic brass and string harmonies. And the choir could lull you off to oblivion like Sirens.

But the theater guild (read: drama freaks)—we were like the bottom feeders of the fine arts electives. Not the surgeons saving lives and stuff, just the dentists pulling teeth. The irony was that people I’ve met through theater were always the most genuine and sincere in real life; they were the coolest. Either that or they were really good actors. Which, let’s face it, is not the case particularly with live theater when everything has to be over-exaggerated for the stage.

Reena used to say, “I have no room for drama in my life,” but she lied because our lives revolved around it.

peasant dress & wooden necklace – self-made
beaded bracelet – Gallop USA
silver rings – gifts from Loraine
mint green sandals – Ecote

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