Maybe I should be making some commentary about this war but I don’t want to really. I have amassed such a sense of frustration that I have bomnbarded my friends with it almost daily and it does nothing at all. Like the election, I am in a hopeless postion to having absolutely no impact what-so-ever. I guess when I have a story I’ll tell it in place of some futile argument to a president (government) who doesn’t listen.
So, I am, instead, focusing on other things. Like it is only a few short days until my birthday appears. On Saturday, armed with a margarita machine, we will have friends converge on the house in honor of our birthdays, K and I. A costume party no less. Anyone who knows me would say, “I can’t believe you are going to dress up”. For which my reply would be, “trust me when I say I still haven’t decided to and that I am actively engaged in making a costume that requires as little work and transformation as possible”. And this is true. Given the choices to be a “pimp” or a “ho”, I suspect most people are going to the extremes of the stereotype. Maybe we could get the margarita machine early so I can drink my way into a costume.
I was only excited once to dress up for halloween. I was going as Luke Skywalker. I wore this big flowing shirt with lose pants, real desert boots with material wrapped on up to my knees and the best part was the lightsabre’ my step father had fashioned from a flashlight and painted on plastic tube. I liked the outfit because it was comfortable and because I loved Star Wars. My mother was so helpful with the costume. I don’t remember that many times when she was so invloved with me. Looking back on it, I am proud of my mom because I don’t think she ever even thought twice about why I wanted to be Luke Skywalker instead of the Princess or why I wasn’t interested in Han Solo. I choose the golden boy, the hero, the one who wanted to please everyone around him. Thank god for my mom who didn’t see it as gender. I’ve never liked any other costume as much since.