yesteryears & other nostalgia.

today was one of those days. the grey, wet ones that most people have a tendency not to care for. i'll admit, i sure as hell wasn't eager to get out of my bed this thundery morning, especially with my napping snuggly partner in crime to my direct left (that's his side). but i did, staggering ten stubborn minutes late to the office or not. and as expected, it was a late one. but even with the the 180 window view on murky, lake michigan, i was more exhilerated than not with the mucky weather.

for whatever reason, i dilly-dallyed around the office longer than i needed to, munching like a peasant on the leftover pasta salad from lunch knowing it'd save me money and efforts in wrangling a dinner at home, and then when i finally shuffled down michigan avenue, feeling like a bloated school marm in my lesbo power suit, i had some sort of deja vu. or not really. maybe i thought i saw a ghost or something. but right by the bus stop by the stupid whatever store on my direct left, i swore i saw the cottony top of my grandmother's somehow still classy and blonde, yet never dyed, white crispy head of hair. and of course i knew it wasn't her, (having her passed on some 15 years ago), but yet, i paused.

realized it's been a long time since i was that jodi robin root. the one with grandparents. and i stopped for a minu-second, wondering what she would think of me now. would she be proud of me? all jaded and never-stop-just-go, shuffling along in the dirty city, bitch face 'dont-you-dare-ask-me-for-money-you-cracked-out-fake-homeless-man' permanently slapped on my freckly face? or would she see me as the weirdo tattooed loudmouth fast talker caffeine junky redhead i've become? or maybe, but i doubt it, i'd still be her stable, but good girl grand daughter. the one who got straight a's and never touched a drop of alcohol and swore to always do good no matter what.

whatever she'd think, it was a mixture of both sadness and bitter joy. or something. lately i've been distracted, apart from myself. finding my way. instead of doing the basics, i've been going on this gut kick to follow my heart (or some similar faggy something or another). i feel as if its finally time for the bitter, headstrong and hurtful j.root to retire and allow the kinder, live and let live, even if you fuck me up, kinda flourish. or something.

i miss being 26. thin and simultaneously selfless and selfish. my only responsibility being my nikes and sneezing cat. praising the goodness that be poster of kanye west. singing to tori amos' 'cornflake girl' at the top of my screechy lungs, and not thinking there was anything weird with hating showers. but even now, while i admit to still holding some of these tendencies (but really, mostly missing my smaller figure), i'm happier now than i've probably ever been in my entire life.

so why am i sitting here, squinting and rambling? well, because i have an album review due, of course. and writer's block for assignments ultimately trump writer's block for rambling seshes.

plus, this gives me an excuse to test out my new laptop and show off my mother's newest 'ohjodi, whydidyoudothat' body accessory.

ps - the handsome furs' new album is kewl and stuff, but i still would rather youtube classics such as this vs. write.

erg. (booty, booty, booty, booty backin' e'rywhere).