I return with a story about a disappointing sweatshirt

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Sorry for the long silence. Most events in my life have been...internal. And that's no fun. (But anyway, here's a link to how I put my tangled emotions to good use.) I promised myself I would blog, though, so here I am. I missed you all! A couple of posts ago, I asked you to please support my piddling blog. Fruity put in a very enthusiastic response, and I'm hoping I'm still on her good side. (The last time I was online, I managed to read her post about slacker blogging and its wondrous inverse effects. If only we all were that lucky.) Sure I've slacked off for two months, but I still crave the blogging love. I attention-grub that way. This one bit of news that stuck is The Philosophical Bastard has gone off to greener domains. Still need to check that out. I'm home in Baguio now, therefore on dial-up. As far as Internet evolution goes, I'm still in the Dark Ages. This is long overdue, but thanks to Lisa for thinking to invite me to BlogRush. I have yet to realize the full potential of that service since I dropped off the blogging radar.

Blogging mojo, return! I know it will take more than that to get it back, but my desperation will force me to try anything.

Went and used most of my Christmas money this afternoon. For about three days I was really intent on this red hoodie I sighted at the John Hay Commissary. This thing drove me crazy. Truly, it occupied my thoughts for most of those three days. I went back there today to finally sate my desire for this coveted piece of clothing. It was disappointment, not satisfaction, that met me. I worked myself up so much, my poor expectant brain fabricated (haha) this vision of the perfect red sweatshirt. It was literally glowing in my mind. I felt that if I acquired the hoodie, it would be like getting bitten by a genetically-altered spider. It would become my secret source of power: the stone I would swallow for my boobs to grow to ridiculous proportions and the clothes on my back to magically transform into a two-piece outfit worthy of saving an imperiled world. That red sweatshirt would be like the earrings that turned a plain-looking orphanage mother to a bangin' rock star with a purple highlights. It was the sweatshirt to end all sweatshirts...in my head. When I saw it again this afternoon, I couldn't understand why it looked as forgettable as it did. I hauled myself into a cab, ended up in Session Road, and went window-shopping half-dazed.

To try and make up for that severe let-down, I stumbled into a bookstore. There, I found redemption in finding a long-searched-for title and 20% off on all items. Bookstores on sale are the most beautiful things in the world. The red sweatshirt disillusionment gave me clarity for books (and a solid pair of jeans). I'm slightly poorer than when I started out this morning, but I didn't do too bad. The Red Sweatshirt may have eluded me this time, but I will find it. Meanwhile, I will spend cheerfully on books and keep my eyes open for those hologram-generating earrings (Me and my friends are Kubi girls! Kubi! Kubi's my name!).

I'll be going about the rounds soon, folks. See you all in the commenting windows.