I'm thinking of starting a Running Man fan club. Bizarrely, he seems pretty popular! Today I encountered him again. I was waiting on the station, minding my business, when I spotted his familiar shape rushing up the stairs. However, this time he had a prop.
A walking stick.
May I remind you that he was running up the stairs, perfectly unaided, at the time. I looked carefully to see if he'd picked up an injury from a rogue train but he didn't appear to be limping or to have anything bandaged. In fact he was even speedier than usual! So why, pray tell, did our favourite commuter have a walking stick?
To wave it at the train as he yelled "Waaaaiiiiiiiit!!"
So it seemed, at least! He ran along, up the stairs and across the platform with no assistance from his stick, holding it aloft and yelling after the train. The train seemed nonplussed. It wasn't going anywhere for quite a while and couldn't quite work out why this strange gentleman was waving a stick at it.
Today was pretty good all in all, which was a relief considering the fact that I am well aware I'm about to be very ill all weekend. I don't know when the pain will start. My common sense says it will probably attack tomorrow afternoon, but I wouldn't be surprised if the damn thing didn't sneak up on me before, or delay its arrival for a day to lull me into a false sense of security. Like I said before, I don't know if I'll update much when I'm ill. However, Y has kindly agreed to do a guest entry for me at some point while I'm unwell :)
I'm finding myself strangely amused by some Jay and Silent Bob slash fiction I just found. I was not expecting to stumble across that. I was actually trying to find something to mock up a nasty picture for Y and to track down that Chasing Amy poster again that I want to buy. Damnit, where is that link? This slash is not helping. It's also not particularly good. However, in the mists of painkillers come tomorrow I may find it better so I'd better bookmark that just in case!
I have a long list of distractions to keep my mind from turning to mush this weekend. Most of them involve turning back the clock again. Remember I was living in 1997 a couple of weeks back? This weekend I'm intending to pay a visit to 1998. Stop me if you see where this is heading.
Over the weekend I spoke to Y about the way I've been feeling lately in regard to that year. I mentioned last week that I have finally started to be able to think of events from that summer without automatically casting up that awful event every time. I don't know what's changed, but something has. The strange part is that the time is drawing so close now, and yet I'm coping much better than I did a month ago, knowing it was on the horizon.
The clear out of not only object but emotions that I've had lately must be in no small way a part of this change. I suppose letting go is something you can't rush and not even something you can choose to do. It happens when you are ready and not before. I still don't know how I'll feel when the day is upon me, and I know that I will still cry and scream and feel all the terror and pain again, but somehow I feel stronger now. It's been building up slowly over the last few weeks. I'm trying to build on that now.
That's why I'm revisiting 1998 this weekend. I'm going to be listening to the music from that summer, watching the videos from it, reading the books I wrote and so on. Those are just the tip of the iceberg. It's the first time in five fucking years that I've been able to think about any time from those few months without wanting to bash my head against the wall to get that bastard out of it.
Do you know what I always overlook because of that bastard and what he did? Instead of dreading and fearing that day I should be celebrating it. Because it was on that day, five years ago, because of what happened that I chose to become Miranda. It ceased to be a nickname. It became me. I grew into the name and that's who I have been ever since. 2nd of July should be remembered for that, but it never will.
I have decided I am going to get 'Miranda 2001' tattooed on my bum. I know, I've been scornful of people who have their name tattooed on themselves in the past (like they'll forget it!) but I have my reasons. And besides, the thought of S with her hands all over my bum for a couple of hours is a very, very nice one! :)
I'm exhausted now. I need to flop for a while before I ring Y. But I wanted to share with you this random poem that the lovely Nicole just sent me, made from a random poetry generator looking at my URL! The Aardvark bit is especially scary! :)
Hot Crumpets for hours. I might write about 15
minutes! Right between two absolutely
gorgeous girls in
my train arrived
and see for half an hour by Jane
Wiedlin Next: Aardvark surprise on my brain found
a sick bucket in the pages. the FANS, the
early evening drew on,
The station before be going round
in glasses and sleep!
Finally my latest
smash The
fact One of the time, a shit
in Association with: A day
to annoy Y and screens agree,
and mortified to
happen was sat between them. play
Mario Golf, and better with one
topic of her spoken about her. online either.
Genius :)
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