My charming, brilliant, beautiful friend Heather has put together a magazine, just for the heck of it and she added one of my poems! Also, there's a photo of me in there that Chris took.

I feel so..so..so...valid? This is timely too, because on my way home (before I checked the mail and found the magazine) I was feeling back in that space of "do I really know anything?" "I'm I going to suck profoundly in my english class?". Just feeling like maybe I think I know so much, but really, I don't know so much.

Meh.

I think tomorrow, I'm just going to keep my mouth shut and listen and not say anything, no matter what I'm thinking about.

I also wanted to document something, for the sake of whining and feeling sorry for myself.

It was Cameron's birthday last Friday. I had borrowed Brave New World from him, and lost it. So as a gift, I bought a new, very nice looking copy, wrapped it, along with an offer to finish that scarf for him if he'd wear it because really, that scarf has always been for him, and if someone else were to wear it, a) it would look weird and wrong, b) would remind me of too many things.

Anyway, I knew he wouldn't be home if I went right before school because he'd be at work, and if you recall, I decided that I couldn't do the friendship thing, once and for all because I was just too darn angry and he wasn't adding happiness to my life.

I did, however, know that his new wife was probably there. Which was fine. I prepared myself to see her.

Here's what did happen. Of all the things she owns to wear. Of all the clothes and clothing combination she could possibly be wearing - shirts, sweaters - tank tops - shorts - pants - anything, here is what she was wearing when she answered the door:

one of the toques I made for Cameron.

the pink velour bathrobe that I used to wear when I was naked in his home.

I was, understandably, a little taken by surprise. I didn't comment, I remained gracious under pressure. But wow did that sting. Of course, I'm sure that she wore that pink velour bathrobe long before I did, but that is outside my realm of experience. My experience with that bathrobe was that I wore it, and he wore the purple one, after sex, before sex, in the morning, after showering together, just lying around, whenever we had been naked and needed a covering.

I felt replaced. I felt displaced. I felt like a great big hand had dropped down from the sky, plucked me out of this painting, and inserted her. Anyway..

That was probably the universe telling me that even if I am doing a nice thing, it's best to just stay away from them. I guess I do need to be hit over the head with a hammer.

Oh well, at least I'm published.

And I look better in that bathrobe.