OK, seeing as it's almost three in the morning and I'm still awake re-hashing what to say the actress I didn't cast in the show I directed two years ago, what to say to Pompous Chad in a given situation that would explain exactly how I truly felt about the jerkwad, and the proper way to've dealt with the fairly cruel hand I played to all of my ex-boyfriends (if indeed you could even call them that, but that's a completely different story), I'd say that I may as well be exhausting myself here.
I've been in a beautiful mood all day today, har-de-har-har. I'd say it's got something to do with the anticipated screening of Crimson Tide, if you catch my drift. Either that or the impending flood of The Boy's relations tomorrow. They're due to arrive at four, and they'll probably be here until Wednesday. If they'd just leave his mother at home, but as it is, I spend every minute anticipating what nosy, ignorant, none of her business, where are her manners? comment she's going to make and what on earth should be said to field this because TB will undoubtedly go with the worst possible option.
It's not even worth talking about at this point. I think learning to handle my parents is the best thing I ever learned in high school, and TB never ever did.
The only one of those four that knows how to handle them is Sandy, who has them playing her game by all the rules and right into her hand. It's really masterful the way she wins the game every damn time. They say she's too stupid and scatterbrained to plan ahead, but she's not.
I keep explaining to TB, his family has this weird habit of defining people by two or three traits, sometimes not even that many. I am a mystery to them because I do not have one single favourite colour, or interest. Because of this, I have remained an enigma and sometimes get what I want in the way of presents rather than whatever tacky little knicknack just "said" me. The poor Boy has a collection of hardware related shirts and magnets with goofy slogans on them that have just "spoken" to his mother. I have tried to reason with his father to buy him tools, who has intimated that it's not up to him, and she won't buy anything she doesn't understand.
I believe that would be one very happy man if he got his freedom. He was cut out for different things than what he ended up with.
Well, this conversation has simply led me further from the path to sleep. You wouldn't believe some of the things I deleted to get to this point, either.
I remember reading about Robert Ballard's explorations of the Titanic. It happened the year after I was born, but I read about it mostly in late elementary school when my brother was interested in it. He would've been in first or second grade and shipwrecks were part of his interest in books about real things. He knew the Titanic, the Lusitania, and a couple others, but he had the big Ballard exploration coffee table books with the photographs of those two, and I read them a lot.
I remember being struck that the crew didn't want to bring anything up. Dinosaurs, Egyptians, Romans, they all had artifacts. Every museum you went to has arrow heads and pots and stuff that they found somewhere and brought. But Ballard didn't. Today I saw an article that they're making watches out of bits of the hull... I just don't understand who would want such a thing.
Oh, wow. Forgot to post this. It's an hour later. Guess I might be tired enough to go to bed now... G'night Folks.