Saturday, 11/20/04 - 10:54 pm.
I went to a bachellorette party this evening. It wasn't exactly a party, and it definitely wasn't anything wild. Just a group of 30 women, gathered to have a meal together, to celebrate the bride, Irene's sister.
I was at the hotel (as small one, nothing fancy, but rather familiar) at 5 o'clock. I was a little afraid to confuse Irene's sisters. You see, they're identical twins. I know one of them better, because she works at our university, she's a writing techniques professor. I haven't had a lot of contact with the other one, the one that's getting married...but she remember me and my elementary school braids. How embarrasing.
The evening was lovely. Irene and her sisters commented on my book. "It's great, I love the one in which...". One of her sisters (the professor) said she'd analyze my stories in her class. You said that some stories don't mean anything, Irene said, but by the way they're written, people will go nuts trying to figure out a meaning. Oh, yay.
They had a digital camera, and I jumped. I can take the pictures!, and Irene and her sisters were pleased. Irene calls herself technology-challenged. So am I, but I can't refuse to handle a digital camera.
I was running around the whole time, camera in hand, snapping here and there, wherever they told me to. I enjoyed that, very much. I told Irene I loved photography, and she said she didn't know that. I bet you didn't either. It's because I don't have a camera, isn't it? Details, details (I do have one, but developing film is kind of expensive and my parents refuse to spend a lot of money on random pictures, even if they're well-taken).
Most of the guests were friends of Irene's sisters (and they all arrived late, I was the only one on time). But Victoria and Angie showed up, so I wasn't bored at all. Talking to friends and eating is great, I tell you. And actually, I don't mind dressing up once in a while like I did today.
She's the photographer, Victoria explained to Angie, who'd arrived 45 minutes late. Of course...she's a writer, Angie replied, she's an artist, and artists can do everything. *cough*.
Irene's sister was opening the presents, and she got to mine. I was running around the room trying to find new angles. She read my card and went she's the photographer of this evening...AND she's a writer, she just wrote a book, and she talked a little about it. Oh, Lord. I was smiling the whole time, but it was a little embarrasing.
What?, one of Irene's best friends turned to me as I was walking by. I just published a book, I leaned in and whispered to her. Congratulations!, she said. She also said she'd buy me a copy. Stupid printing house, they've spoiled the whole thing (that was a free sample of my resentment toward them, for screwing the index up and therefore delaying the release date).
I was called writer and photographer many times, which was quite an ego boost. Oh, yay, I have talent. Oh, yay, and I can play George Harrison's any road, too.
You know what I was thinking? That maybe if Joseph was Joe and Joe was Joseph, the same thing would be happening to me, anyway. I'd be going out with Joe and I'd be falling for Joseph. I can't win in either dimension. My hypothalamus isn't made for romantic relationships, I guess.
You know what else? I LOVE The Godfather. The book, that is...I haven't seen the movie. I'm dysfunctional, and I'll choose the book over the movie any day.
Oh, oh. There was a quake this afternoon. I saw that coming. Because I'm paranoid and I feel quakes everyday. I didn't bother getting out of my room. Unless things start falling, I couldn't care less. My parents were on their way out, but I don't see why. The quake's everywhere, not just outside the house. Ceiling or tree on you can hurt you the same.