Virgo:: "There are nine different words in Maya for the color blue, but just three Spanish translations," wrote Earl Shorris in Harper's, "leaving six butterflies that can be seen only by the Maya." This idea suggests two important implications that you should take to heart in the coming weeks. First, the words you use can actually shape your perceptions. Second, as your vocabulary expands, you become aware of aspects of reality that have been hidden from you, and you develop a greater capacity to distinguish between experiences that are superficially alike. Halloween costume suggestion: a butterfly colored nine different shades of blue.
My alarm went off at 5am this morning, and I glared at it in disgust. I have not been getting nearly enough sleep as of late. I think in the past three weeks, I've gotten more than five hours' worth of sleep exactly twice. It's starting to take a toll on my body-- I'm getting cranky and irritable, and I have undereye circles the size of saucers. Okay, so maybe that's a slight exaggeration.

Last night, bailunrui and I had an adventure. The plan was to go shopping to get her a nice eye-catching outfit. We got something nice and sexy, but casual, plus a nice pair of heeled boots, so I consider our mission a success. New York & Co. is one of my favorite places on Earth, I say. Also? I got a pair of Editor pants from Express. Y'all were right. They're worth every damn penny. I was a bit disappointed, though, since they were sold out of the Correspondent style in size four. There's always next time. If our excursion has proven anything, though, it's that maybe I'm missing a calling as a personal shopper.

The adventure part came on the way home. Thank goodness I suggested we take a route through the city rather than the highway to get home, because we blew a tire right smack in the middle of South Baltimore. It was cute how Lauren said she didn't know if it was a safe place to check the car, because Federal Hill is about the safest you're likely to get in the middle of the city. Anyway, my father (the biological one) lives about three blocks away from where we stopped, so we were able to eek our way there, creaking and moaning like something fierce.

My father changed the tire, and naturally, I asked how things were going. We last spoke about a month ago, as he was leaving for an all-expenses-paid cruise to Hawaii. Must be nice, right? Anyway, he told me he might be going away for a month early next year. Why, you ask? Because he might be getting married. In Australia. To a divorcée that he met on the cruise.

Oh, but it gets better. She's bloody loaded. She owns two mines. She has a vacation house on a private island. And, as a fun an exciting bonus, she has a tail. I was far, far too freaked out to ask what the hell that meant. Also, she looks like my Aunt Linda. Freakishly so, even. I'm too squicked for words.

So I reminded him that just two months ago, he was swearing off women for life, and, as interjections of reality go, he only knew the woman for twelve days. "We've been emailing," he says. Oh, my dear sweet fluffy lord. My family? Is insane. Sometimes, my mind just boggles. On the plus side, I might have a rich stepmomma who might fly me to Australia for vacations. Cheers to that. I can't wait to cozy up to her cranky teenage daughter that I can call 'sis.'

And then a crackwhore knocked on the door. I shit you not.

Okay, I have to work now. Maybe my brain will wake up. Hopefully. I think my coffee is broken.