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Jul. 2nd, 2004 01:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tanaiseThere's a new issue up at the FB. I should be formal and announce it, but I can't remember where the graphic is for it, and I'd have to up date it and all that, so instead I'll just say,
There's a new issue up at the FB.
There's a stella story, and a sharon story, and one from someone I don't recognize, and a barth story, "We stand on the verge of getting it on," which when Jer told me the name I said I'd buy it just for the name. But I'm easy like that. I have stories called "Andy, Only on the Inside." and "Gods in our Underwear" What amuses me most about Barth's story is completely unrelated to Barth's story. it has to do with the fact that I just got all superexcited over a non-fiction book I'm waiting for and really really want to read, So you wanna be a rock & roll star : how I machine-gunned a roomful of record executives and other true tales from a drummer's life by Jacob Slichter, the drummer for Semisonic. And the sample that my library has available is soooo good, and I'm tired, and thus the two stories are swirling nicely.
I've been thinking a lot of age lately--how we measure it, and how it's like IQ in a way, because the way we measure it isn't actually the important way to measure it, and how many many ways I'm not 27--my cultural history by and large starts at about 12, so far as dating and such is involved, I might as well be 15, practically--things like that. And I was thinking about age the other way today as well, thinking about ways in which I'm older than 27, and people who make me older yet, and if given the choice I'd rather be younger or older than my physical age. And I'm pretty solidly on the younger side, so it would be silly of me to even pay attention to an age difference that would make no difference if he was older than me, just because I'm freaked out.
And I think so much of my freaking out lately is a coming to terms with the idea that people look at me and think I'm attractive. Everyone always says, Oh, when you're happy, everyone can tell and it makes you more attractive. I don't know if I totally believe that, but I can burst into tears at the drop of a hat, and could really do with a hug most days, and I was just about sobbing in the elevator the other day, and yet, i think I'm so much happier here than I was in PA. And boys flirt with me, even the stray office boys, and (possibly, we're still not sure) someone several years younger than me. And I still don't have a clue what they see in me that they like, but I'm happy that they see something at least.
There's a new issue up at the FB.
There's a stella story, and a sharon story, and one from someone I don't recognize, and a barth story, "We stand on the verge of getting it on," which when Jer told me the name I said I'd buy it just for the name. But I'm easy like that. I have stories called "Andy, Only on the Inside." and "Gods in our Underwear" What amuses me most about Barth's story is completely unrelated to Barth's story. it has to do with the fact that I just got all superexcited over a non-fiction book I'm waiting for and really really want to read, So you wanna be a rock & roll star : how I machine-gunned a roomful of record executives and other true tales from a drummer's life by Jacob Slichter, the drummer for Semisonic. And the sample that my library has available is soooo good, and I'm tired, and thus the two stories are swirling nicely.
I've been thinking a lot of age lately--how we measure it, and how it's like IQ in a way, because the way we measure it isn't actually the important way to measure it, and how many many ways I'm not 27--my cultural history by and large starts at about 12, so far as dating and such is involved, I might as well be 15, practically--things like that. And I was thinking about age the other way today as well, thinking about ways in which I'm older than 27, and people who make me older yet, and if given the choice I'd rather be younger or older than my physical age. And I'm pretty solidly on the younger side, so it would be silly of me to even pay attention to an age difference that would make no difference if he was older than me, just because I'm freaked out.
And I think so much of my freaking out lately is a coming to terms with the idea that people look at me and think I'm attractive. Everyone always says, Oh, when you're happy, everyone can tell and it makes you more attractive. I don't know if I totally believe that, but I can burst into tears at the drop of a hat, and could really do with a hug most days, and I was just about sobbing in the elevator the other day, and yet, i think I'm so much happier here than I was in PA. And boys flirt with me, even the stray office boys, and (possibly, we're still not sure) someone several years younger than me. And I still don't have a clue what they see in me that they like, but I'm happy that they see something at least.
