Straight No Chaser

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

interestingly enough, the ceremony was almost not awkward at all, which i'd expected it to be. two people weren't speaking to me, as expected. and they were both wearing orange. how cute. everyone else, though, including courtney, who i was basically counting on to give me a hard time (and i was ready, too; i had a line together and everything--are you really going to harass me about something i already feel terrible about?), was friendly and ready to hug and make conversation. first lady. heh.

i sat in the end seat, first row. green tank top because green is his favorite color, that was the reason of course, even though i told him, afterward, that i came straight from class and didn't stop to change. of course i changed. i showered and lotioned and put on the cutest flip-flops i had. i have only this much fashion sense (picture me holding my fingers very, very close together) but i try, for the people i love. i do.

i smelled great, at least. and my hair is a natural wonder, right now.

i wonder how many people have the sorts of thoughts nobody is supposed to have, but wisely keep them inside. at walmart yesterday, the man in front of me in the checkout line was reading a magazine article about the woman who killed her preacher husband (claiming, i guess, that the pressures of sharing him with an entire congregation had gotten to be too much, that maybe she wanted to deprive them of him the way they'd done to her, or something), and he turned to his girlfriend and said, "dude, i mean, i know what she means, sometimes i feel like i'd rather you not exist than, like, have to share you. i can totally see how somebody would justify something like that."

she sort of giggled, but i was completely appalled, behind them--except that it wasn't at what he said, exactly, it was more about the fact that he said it at all. because that sentiment, not to say that i identify or agree with it, but it's the kind of thing that's totally fine, and maybe even normal, until the second you say it out loud. that's what an internal dialogue is, a place to store all your socially maladjusted or unacceptable, private, thoughts. they don't become strange or creepy until you give them voice.

as it happens so often, i forgot, until now, half an hour later, that this entry was open, and because i'm too sleepy to scroll back to the top and investigate its themes, or lack thereof, i'm going to conclude with a non sequiter but brilliant insight.

wait here while i think of one.