Monday, January 08, 2001

my vision of my wedding goes something like this: a starlight drenched garden, perfumes of jasmine and rose coil around our bodies as we make our quiet and joyful vows to one another. the music of the wind through the beech trees and russian olives and the blossoming of the moonflowers are choir to our private nuptuals. then, we leave as one, refreshed and happyv (although, no more so than we are now), and maybe even we go to a gathering of our friends and families to share and show our delight in each other. here is convention's ideal wedding: months of exhausting preparations. the bride is loosing her complextion, the groom is wondering why one girl is worth all this neurosis, not to mention money. everyone learns to be annoyed with everyone else, and more than likely, resentments will be born from this joyful period that will last as long as the marriage, if not longer. so could someone tell me why exactly the latter vision is preferable to the former? cause god knows, little simple me just ain't getting it. and convention be damned, and anyone who needs it that badly can go with it.

murmured by aimee lewis around 10:01 AM

Friday, January 05, 2001

i would like to share a little something concerning my ceiling. i have glow in the dark stars on it. no, i didn't put them there. they have been in that not so celestial position (next to the constellation CobWebicus) ever since i moved in. this is strange since i understand that a professional, uptight sort of woman lived here before me. i take it that the woman and i have somethings in common. we both left the stars alone, for one. at first i planned to remove them. they glared at me, 6 feet over head, and they said "kitsch". but you know, maybe its the fairy in me, and maybe its the kitsch, but i'm glad i didn't take them down. they make me feel a sweet tinge of regret that i don't sleep under the real stars. and i think that is important to remember and regret. anyway, the ceiling stars don't glow too brightly, and the regret doesn't pinch so harshly and i . . .well, i wish ceilings were unnecessary. maybe its the ceiling that's kitsh.

murmured by aimee lewis around 6:50 PM

Thursday, December 21, 2000

cleaning is an interesting idea. and it usually is just an idea for me. but it is one thing, i think that defines humanity.we all have to do it write. we clean out government, clean our homes (i should be doing that right now), clean our teeth. . . imagine how easy it is for some of us to do these things. for example, steven tyler must have a really easy time cleaning his teeth just like little miss perfect always has a neat house. how does she always have a clean house? surely she doesn't have more time in the day than me. i mean, its not like i want a dirty house, i try to keep things neat. but there are so many other things to do besides washing dishes and putting cute little potppuorri baskets everywhere. all men are not created equal. i claim my status of inequality right now. i am household maintenence challenge. so take that, martha stuart.

murmured by aimee lewis around 8:46 AM

Monday, December 18, 2000

once again, i find that i have spent a good portion of the weekend working on photoshop than studying for economics. and i NEED to study for economics. the final is tomorrow and i can feel the regret rising from the depths of my stomach, "give it back, give back the time." but time is gone, and i realize that i didn't use it very economically.

murmured by aimee lewis around 7:01 AM

Sunday, December 10, 2000

so, i just finished off a day of book buying. that's right, i'm anticipating the end of the semester. the snow is falling, the temperature is dropping and i'm hunkering down for what will be a cold, barren and absolutely wretched week brimming with term papers and tests like the ice witch's cauldron spews the north wind and the common cold. but i'll know that at the end of the next 9 days awaits a stack full of my most loved authors next to my bed. and when i have cleared a path through the obligatory papers around me all that will be left is a feather comforter, a pillow and c.s. lewis and george macdonald. oh god, if only i don't drown in paper cuts and die from pc uv admission before that blessed hour (a sigh intended as a scream).

murmured by aimee lewis around 10:29 PM

Friday, December 01, 2000

the REAL community clinic in longmont is LA SALUD. they don't turn away or reject indigents, migrants or the poverty-stricken. but does anyone ever recognize them? is anyone listening to me??

murmured by aimee lewis around 10:39 AM

you know those people who think they know what's best for you, and for that matter, the world, and they can't even tell the difference between good and nice? i think hitler started out as one of them, and maybe milosevic. i know my companion's parents are that type because every morning this last week i woke up crying because i have to tell his mother why i can't have a wedding. i am still procrastinating. its like the unwitting, unlistening, racial-profiling police chief, and the pixie stix, eat-you-with-a-spoon sweet, sold-out-to-developers mayor, both 'ala clown noses as they introduced patch adams and susan somethingerother, who i felt was a lot more interesting than patch, but then she didn't have a movie made about her so what can you expect . . . excuse the run-on. what i am trying to say is that these ignorantly corrupt people (the mayor and the police chief) were talking about the city of longmont's wonderful relationship with the community. and i sat there. i cassandra, except the unheroic version of cassandra. i sat there without a mouth wanting to scream and yell and sing to all those middle-aged, middle-class, middle-american, middle-middle people in the audience about the 11% of longmont's population that involuntarily squeezes their sphincter muscles every time they see a police car. fear. that's the relationship longmont has with latino longmont. fear. tell me police chief there-is-no-racial-profiling butler, why is there fear? i've given you my answer, now you give me yours. why? so, i cried tonight, again. and now i shall retire to my never middle lover's arms. and maybe tomorrow i will tell my not-future-mother-in-law why this is really preserving the sanctity of our love. why i will not cheapen her son with a rented tux or a kiss in front of people i don't know and that probably wouldn't like me anyway. and then maybe i'll march into the police chief's office, and instead of smiling this time i will demand justice. and maybe tomorrow i'll just wake-up and go to class. maybe i just need more carrots.

murmured by aimee lewis around 9:45 AM