everything i tell you is hearsay

And that is happiness making.

I wonder at myself sometimes and my triggers. Not just the obvious ones, for food, sex, sleep, anger. Lately the triggers that interest me most are the prompts for baseless sentiment. Why is it I should be so moved by the line “Michigan seems like a dream to me now…” I’ve never even been to Michigan. My most recent romantic entanglement notwithstanding, I don’t think I’ve ever been tempted to go to Michigan.

And yet, every time I hear that song. Every time Paul sings that line, the tears rise and I weep until “we’ve all gone, to look for America”

It is a line referenced in one of the most important pieces of literature in my life. I suppose that adds a certain degree of resonance. In The Waste Lands, as the three Gunslingers from New York muse on their bizarre new circumstances, Eddie mutters the line. And it struck me then. But I suspect I was already under the sway of whatever evocative power the phrase has over me when I read it. Because I remember feeling like a bell was tolling when I let the words sink inside me.

And maybe there is no answer. Maybe my tendency for baseless sentiment is an end unto itself, but I am curious about it nevertheless. And of course I know I’m not alone.

I wonder what makes other people experience this same inexplicable sentimentality….

This may be, in part, why I loved Garden State so damn much. Probably not, I mean, Zach Braff is totally my imaginary boyfriend, and like, how could I not love his work? But I do love it in the end when he says to Samantha…

“This isn’t a conversation about this being over. I’m not like, putting a period at the end of this. I’m putting like… an ellipsis on it.”

He repents of this quite soon, but I still liked the notion of it. I hate the idea of anything really being irrevocable. I want there to be a chance for anything, to have a little more to say.

And I notice when I look at my posts, just how many of them have ellipsis’ (ellipses? ellipsis’s?) in them. And how this in effect works out as the verbal equivalent of trailing off, which ironically, i almost never ever do. I like to express complete thoughts. Sometimes, they’re a little too complete. Here, let me give you 8 1/2 minutes of exposition you do not need. That was fun wasn’t it!?

But I think when I use them in writing perhaps its more of a come hither than a trailing off. I want to entice you with the slightest hint of things to come. And it seems so much more poetic that way. I mean no wonder I love the ellipsis; all the infinite unsaidness of life can be summed up with three little dots…

Ok,

so its not usually fun to be wrong, but sometimes it is particularly annoying/embarassing.

I’ve been toying with the idea of being Jessica Rabbit for Halloween for about 4 years, but thought the lack of a willing Roger might make the effort a little hard to understand. Oh look! Autumn’s got her tits out again! How novel! Right?

Well, I decided this year, since I’m turning 30 and oh so very alone in the world, Roger or no, I’m doing it. So I’m on the prowl for the right off-the-shoulder-slit-up-to-there dress. Which in MY memory was PURPLE. So, I start looking casually. Not finding anything just yet, but I have time so I’m not super worried about it. I mention this plan to various people, all of whom think it is hilarious or hot (depending largely on their gender) and encourage me to go full steam ahead. Red wig or dye job? Haven’t totally made up my mind… long opera gloves are a necessity, slutty tall red shoes, that’s what the red light clothing exchange is for.

One person however, when I say this is my plan, is encouraging but says “Yeah find yourself the right red dress and I’m sure you’ll pull it off Roger or no…”

To which I reply “No no no you silly git, her dress was purple not red. And set off to Wiki a corroborating photo to prove it. Ahem.

I guess I’m glad this happened since I would have been a little less obviously Jessica in the wrong colored dress. My plan to open every conversation with “I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way” might seal the deal…

Despite my tendency to believe this, happiness is not found in hats. Or shoes. Or pants. Well, I mean a certain kind of happiness can be found in pants, but that’s not what I’m getting at.

My friend Clare has made the suggestion that since human memory is unreliable we may not be the best judge of our own level of overall happiness, and that maybe all we need is some objective evidence that things aren’t so bad so we can all cheer the fuck up a little. She talks about this much more eloquently on her blog:

http://happiology.blogspot.com/2007/09/introduction-to-allisons-happiness.html

I’ve decided this is an amusing and potentially worthwhile attitude to have about this whole happiness thing. And so I’m going to join her in both recording my own experience and reflecting upon what trends I notice. Plus I think her “Happiness Scale” is hilarious…

Happiness Scale
1. “My god. I would like to die”
2. “Life Sucks”
3. “Not good”
4. “I’ve been better.”
5. “Can’t complain”
6. “Good.”
7. “Boy, I feel great!”
8. Squealing in glee

Here’s to more 8’s than 1’s!

So I’m out on Saturday walking around downtown Portland in the lovely crisp fall afternoon when I strolled past the JCrew window display. It was a terrible mistake.

It is well known that if I had to subsist with only 3 brands ever again it would be Banana Republic, Ann Taylor, and JCrew. I love their cheeky preppyness. I love their devotion to the tall collared rugby. And I love their hats. I think I have like 23 JCrew hats. And now, I want one more.

Thing is, this hat is currently $50, give or take. But if I wait 3 weeks or so, this hat will be $25. If it can still be found. And this is my main problem with JCrew. When they do discount something it offends me to have paid full price so recently. On the other hand, if I wait in hopes of said discount, it may well sell out before I get to it. It is a bitter dilemma and I am not happy to be having it. I’ve had a fair amount of success waiting and trying again. I have a skirt that started out $60 that I only paid $20 for. I suppose I ought to wait and see. After all, if we are destined to be together, I suppose we’ll find a way somehow…

I thought suggesting Bowl-aoke (my favorite hybrid of bowling and karaoke) was weird enough to seem novel and intriguing to my jaded jaded friends. But I was trumped. True, the person who did the trumping works at Dark Horse Comics and is therefore infinitely cooler than I am, but still.

Because how could we not abandon the bowl-aoke plans to go check out underground glow-in-the-dark pirate themed mini-golf. I had to bow to the wisdom of such a plan. And so would you.

My only complaint was the lack of a bar in the facility. I mean, trying to accommodate families
might make this seem wise, but my argument is actually that most parents would be MORE likely to take their kids down to the subterranean free for all if they had access to a beer or two. I know I would.

Saturday was slightly less luminous. In fact I drove up to Larch Mountain right about the time the equinox was occurring and climbed up to the viewpoint pretty much in the pitch dark. Once I got up there, the entire valley below was obscured by a thick blanket of fog. Nothing like climbing a mountain to get a clearer view and only having a grey bank of clouds to look at instead. To be fair it was good in the sense of being a little spooky. Peeking over the side and seeing nothing but fog does give one the sense of being perched on the edge of an infinite abyss. Which is always a good thing.

Is the last full day of summer. Hence, Sunday will be the first day of fall. Celebrate the autumnal equinox with fire and cider and foolishness, because the light is beginning to fade.

Around this time I try to think about the closing of the season. This is usually a pleasant moment for me to reflect on the year and imagine what’s coming up (usually most of the imagining is wondering when there’s going to be enough snow on the ground to ski upon)

It helps that fall is usually the best time of year for me, more wonderful, magical, and miraculous things seem to happen to me at this time of year. A brief survey has informed me that I am not alone in this. And also that February is the worst month of the year with July hard on its heels.

All that being said, I’m feeling particularly in need of some magic right about now. And I want to drive down to the ocean and light a fire and scream at the horizon. Not because it will make the light last any longer, but because I think I need to embrace the oncoming dark, instead of running away from it.

It’s not even that hard. Especially when you’re little and you’ve been deprived somehow of an accurate example of what the right idea is. Plus, if you’re hanging around with other folks who also have that same wrong idea, well… you can imagine the sort of confusion this can cause…

I think its due in part to our need for belonging. If we can’t be sure where we ought to be, there’s some comfort to be had in sticking with the familiar. Even if the results are less than ideal, at least its a commonplace imperfection rather than one we have to accustom ourselves to. The new and unusual can be exciting, but more often than not just presents a whole new world of stress to be coped with, and so sometimes in the most fundamental form of self-defense, we seek out that which seems recognizable.