Last night I decided that, despite being tired at 1am, I would rather stay up all night. So I drank about six cups of coffee, made myself shake like a leaf and my heart beat like a jackhammer, and here I am.
Moderation is not a word I'm familiar with, as everyone knows by now.
I think I just enjoy torturing myself. That, and ritualistic movements soothe me intensely, so I'm always hesitant to stop anything I start. Eating, drinking, anything. It all becomes ritual. It all becomes addiction.
I'm in a happy, pretty mood today. My fascination with corsets has returned to being a full-fledged obsession, and I've decided that I must somehow acquire one or two or three more. This is difficult, as they can cost over $300 each, and I rarely see them priced for under $250. (But they are so worth it.)
I rarely spend over $20 for a single article of clothing. I should really just relax and go with it. Once I have the money, at least. Pretty things.
Currently making brussels sprouts for myself. Breakfast.
Oh! I remember. Halloween has become a major topic in my household lately. It's still months away, of course, but my family has a veritable tradition of making...very elaborate, detailed costumes for Halloween. Costumes that take months to finish. So I'm naturally being pressured to decide what I want to be, and I'm completely torn. I want to be something/someone that's actually recognisable in America, which is difficult. It precludes book characters as well, which is usually my first source.
I'm mostly just tired of explaining who I am to people. I want to be self-explanatory for once. But...few things that I like enough to want to be are self-explanatory. I'm a pretentious bastard. I know that. But how do I get past that for one night of the year, when all attempts to dampen my pretense in the past have failed?
Must think.
revoless.
9:16 a.m.
August 13, 2003.
Listening to: A mix of my favourite songs from the Moulin Rouge soundtracks (
songs from the actual film, mostly)