Friday, January 18, 2008

Just because I can...

Many nights I am just like “Carrie Bradshaw”. I have a thought about something, anything, men, women, friends, work, love, heartache, and I sit and pound it out on the keys of my laptop. Toss in some music fitting whatever mood I’m in at the time and my job is done. I adore getting dressed to go out, selecting the perfect outfit to wear, and always changing shoes last minute, always anticipating the perfect moment when I get to wear a skirt and boots. To spend an hour or so straightening my hair because I like to and I know it’s a favorite amongst others, and some prefer curls and I do to when they cooperate. My makeup is interchangeable, I switch it up often and it never looks the same. Accessories are few because I have yet to collect my box of tricks, gold, silver, cosmetic, but I always stick to my favorites. I’m sitting here just like her, minus the cigarette of course, with a thought in mind, or many for that matter, communicating to you on the airwaves even if you don’t hear me. I have a diary, many in fact, but I tossed anything prior to August 1993, and don’t ask my why because I don’t remember why. Occasionally I go back in time, relive what happened years ago, ask the age old question “what was I thinking?”, and ever so often a smile comes across my face because at that one moment in time I was happy and I remember it all.

And I wonder if memories stir up feelings like mixed drinks, why do we bother making them? Of pink and red roses, about moments I’ll never see again, burned in my brain as a memory the sand will wash away one day on the beach, of all the times spent before and now and my endless nightly consumptions of cabernet and chardonnay and the perfect chocolate martini. The wedding dress, the pictures, the momentos over the years, the songs I continue to hear which always remind me of something, there’s always something. One day in this huge world we live in, Mr. Big will be strolling in a park with Ms. Bradshaw holding hands while she slings her expensive shawl over her shoulder, eyeing up the starry sky, filled with scents of musk, amber and a limo to take them home. Who am I kidding….its just another memory, but I cherish them all just as if they happened yesterday.

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