I'm not a happy chica. The night ticketbox girl just called in sick for the rest of the series and there isn't anyone to call. Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters! Me. Of course. Who the fuck else? Especially since I'm cheap and I already know the Ticketmaster system. For the life of me I don't know why everyone thinks that Ticketmaster is a bitch, it's just propmt driven, like the old DOS os. I loved DOS. Ticketmaster is as easy as a 10 cent whore.

But seriously, who has to work their own damn birthday hawking tickets?!

Oh man. I'm bad. But not. I've been in a bit of a daze all day. Between the cold I caught at work and the conversation that keeps reverbing through my head from last night, it's no wonder.

Today was a good day though. It really was. I slept through the night for the first time in a week, waking up after noon. Then I got to take the car into Arrowhead to go spend my gift card on something horribly frivolous. The answer, of course, is shoes. Bought a very cute pair; very 40s. Also bought some much needed underwear (I know you're all dying to know that.) Wandered through the mall and found some stuff at Torrid, but I need a second opinion, so Mom's going to come with me in the next day or two.

I tend to dream alot these days. Vivid dreams. Memory mearging with fantasy, fact with fiction, has been with hopes and dreams. Added to the already surreal bent my summer has taken, it makes things very interesting, but it doesn't manifest itself very clearly in the outer world. I dream, and I dream often, and, to quote one of my favorite books, I am "richer in those dreams then in realities; for things seen pass away, bu the things that are unseen are eternal." I do love Anne of the Island, it's such a sweet little book. Childish at times I suppose, but then oughten we all have some childishness about us?

Threw you the obvious
And you flew with it on your back
A name in your recollection
Down among a million, say:
Difficult enough to feel a little bit
Disappointed, passed over.
When I've looked right through,
To see you naked and oblivious
and you don't see me
Well I threw you the obvious,
Just to see if there's more behind the
Eyes of a fallen angel,
Eyes of a tragedy.
Here I am expecting just a little bit
Too much from the wounded
But I see,
See through it all,
See through,
And see you.
So I threw you the obvious
Do you see what occurs behind the
Eyes of a fallen angel
Eyes of a tragedy
Well, oh well..
Apparently nothing.
Apparently nothing at all.
You don't
You don't
You don't see me
You don't
You don't
You don't see me
You don't
You don't
You don't see me
You don't
You don't
You don't see me at all
~3 Libras, A Perfect Circle.

I love that song. It doesn't sound as sad as it is, it really doesn't. I remember when I first heard it. It was back in February, probably. I was hanging out in the caf with the usual suspects, and Alex had his iPod. I swear that thing was attached at his hip. He'd been humming a song for a week or more, as was his wont. When he got a song stuck in his head, boy was it stuck there. Anyway, the song was "Weak and Powerless" also by A Perfect Circle. Well, I liked that so I went back to the beginning of the artist playlist. And the first song was 3 Libras. And it struck me right from the beginning. The intro is haunting in its beauty, and the lyrics struck me too, particularly the "eyes of a fallen angel,/ eyes of a tragedy" lines. Mainly, I suppose, because I always seem to relate to the fallen, the leftover, the tragic figure that isn't in a tragedy. The everyday tragic, like seeing a well used, well loved doll or teddy bear sitting on the side of the road, forgotten, forlorn, run over like yesterday's newspaper. There will always be the grand tragedies, the Romeos, the Juliets, the West Side Stories, the bombing victims, those who lose their lives for no rhyme or reason. But there are everyday tragedies too, the forgotten things, the overlooked things, the people who go about their business never looking up, never seeing the forest for the trees, never taking the moment to admire where the are, just trying to get where they are going. The people are forgotten by themselves, and so those who take the time to look around, to see the trees and the forest, who look at the city even though they know it is there, they are forgotten moreseo. Because the world passes by without a glance.