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august 8, 2000. I just put on one of my birthday bras. Hmm. It's a real bra, the kind that supports, and although it's very pretty, its sensible size makes me feel like a milk cow. I gave up bras about 5 years ago. It wasn't a big deal or anything - one day in the summer before I went to university, I woke up & decided that I didn't feel like wearing a bra. Not a political point nor a sexual one. It's just something that is, another of my inexplicable kinks.
I was thinking vaguely about starting up with bras again in the fall. Ever since my traumatizing experience with the grade six class, I've wondered why I bother to persist in this behavior. Like I said, there's really no reason. But to get married, and go to teacher's college and start wearing bras again, all at once... it just seems too straight. Too small talk, too adult. I think I'm going to get something pierced instead.
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It's been a busy, somber day. This morning was the funeral for my mother's recently deceased friend, so we piled into the unair-conditioned church to think & pray & weep. Being there was a very poignant experience for me, struggling as I am with issues of grown-up identity. What does it mean to be a woman of God? What does it mean to serve one's community? What does it mean to give of one's self in the aid of others?
When I was a child, I passed through a brief period of zealousness in which I was incredibly irate at all the other things "cluttering up" a pure worship of God. I thought I was seeing the Truth diffused into meaninglessness by way of committee. Of course, I was 11 or so and a complete idiot. There is a flesh, a day-to-day pulse of need that must be addressed alongside a call to cerebral worship. Some guy once said something like, "wherever you are gathered, there I am among you." The gathering of people necessitates organization. The needs of the world are better met by a quiet determined woman who makes sandwiches and visits the sick, than by a whole herd of fiery intellectuals.
I'm happy to have realized that now, so that I can put this woman's death in the proper perspective. She looms very large in my mind. Very large indeed.
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Today is not only funeral day, but it's Marriage License Getting Day! Hooray! We left the house somewhat under the gun: the office refuses to issue licenses after 4 p.m., and I had screwed around getting lost & running errands until 3:15. Yikes. I was quite tense in the car, even though I knew everything would work out. I'm like that: unreasonably irritable.
"This is the worst Marriage License Getting Day ever." The clerk was a girl from highschool. The form took us seven minutes flat. Then they typed Henry instead of Harvey. The Boy declined this convenient name change. We solemnly swore an oath of truth and it was done.
11 days to go!
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Tomorrow is my 24th birthday. To celebrate, I plan on doing the same things I always do: dinner & dancing. (I get away with a lack of originality this year, because it's my Last Summer In Town.) My only problem is that nobody's returning my questing inquiries. I'm beginning to worry about some friends who've been unexpectedly AWOL from recent events. Casual conversation with Jesse last night failed to turn up any leads, although he's promised to alert his minions. I replied that dust bunnies can't be considered minions, but he didn't think that was funny. I dunno, he's a man who takes his minions very seriously.
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