Fashion and Fury, Among Other Things. (Jan 21 2005)
Lately, I've been Memphis's Crabbiest Person (and I'm willing to bet that I'm in the top five of the Southeastern United States, as well.) I am unable to deal with people; the most trifling things perturb me beyond belief. In the lunch line the other day, there was this girl wearing a bright pink sweater, a black miniskirt, and those pointy high heels that I hate because if your feet aren't correctly-shaped, I can see your disfigured, squeezed-in toes peeking out. Oh, and I should mention that this young lady's shoes were bright pink, to match her exquisite sweater. Seeing her gnarled digits crammed into those awful shoes...
A different day in the lunch room, I was looking at the back of a different girl's head. Her hair was a little mussed, and I felt like grabbing her and shaking her, yelling at her to get her act together, buy a brush, something, anything. Just before I reached my hand out to take hold of her shoulders, I looked down at my own smashing ensemble: sweatshirt, jeans (probably worn a few times since they'd last been washed), no makeup. Needless to say, I restrained myself and brooded in silence.
Today was a warm day and I found myself irritated immensely by the sightings of several bare midriffs throughout the day. I can't even convey why it was annoying, but it was. Tanktops in winter? I want people to wear real clothes in January, I guess, even if it is 55 degrees outside. However, now that I'm dressed to go out for the evening, I see my own inch-high strip of flesh hovering between my jeans and exceedingly-cute chocolate-brown tie-in-back V-neck. Oh well. Drew will just have to deal with me and my hypocritical shirt.
None of these things make terribly much sense: normally, fashion faux pas don't make me volver loca this way. I'm not sure what it is, but it doesn't help that I'm thwarted with a chronic headache behind my left eye. It mostly hurts when I move my eyes without turning my head first, or when I have to speak loudly (for example, bellowing, "COME IN!" multiple times so that people will just enter the darn room) or sing (Music class: bane of my existence! I actually got a menacing glare from Prof. Watkins for not singing along; I was, however, able to lead the class marching through Hassell Hall--demonstrating the duple simple rhythm--without conjuring too much white-hot stabbing pain spearing the left part of my brain.)
I asked Olivia if she thought her dad (a doctor) would tell me I had a brain tumor, and she said no--it's more likely stress or anxiety. I'll settle with The Worst Sinus Attack I've Ever Had. It feels sinus-y by the way I press on things (my left eye especially--but only the left eye; the right is fine.) I feel like my head is swelling to larger and larger sizes as we speak. Maybe Dr. Fischer (the astronomer who gave a talk last night in the Ballroom) would say my head has two Jupiter-masses. It sure feels that way.
