i'm waiting for my brother to arrive. he's late, as usual, and while it's not like i had anything on my agenda beyond reading like a maniac and maybe watching kyle xy on abc family [listen: do not bust my chops on this. he's kinda cute, he's an alien, he has no belly button it's all very fascinating. oh shut up. watch it.] i still get a bit cheesed off that wy's late. why is wy late? well, he's late because that's who he is.
he's the middle child. he's always been the rebel. it might be, psychologically speaking, a sort of middle-child-syndrome thing, i don't know. see, i'm the baby and the only girl, so of course i'm not really allowed any wiggle room on rebellion, misbehaving, etc. older brothers can really ruin things for you. everyone with older brothers knows what i'm talking about.
wyatt lives up to his cowboy-type name, i guess. i gotta tell you, my parents were pretty good about giving us each more creative names. i mean, how many girls named amy do you know? there were FIVE amys in my class. FIVE out of THIRTY. that's a high percentage, wouldn't you say? also, lots of jasons. i am by no means saying that these are bad names. they're wonderful names. i think that wy had 2 michaels on his baseball team each year. seriously. lovely names. every single one of them. but my parents, they knew what they were doing. nobody forgets wyatt. possibly because of who he is, but also, he's got a cool name. wyatt earp. that's what everyone thinks of. and i wonder: would wyatt be so...wyatty...if he weren't named wyatt. if he were named, say, ben?
was shakespeare a genius - wouldn't a rose smell as sweet if it weren't called a rose [oh my thesis professor is cringing while i butcher the bard on a blog]. but seriously, at what point do we inform our names or do our names inform us? is inform even the correct word? clearly i had too many beers last night at banjo jims with kim.
but wy's always been sort of a laid-back surfer kid about time. i'm kind of obsessive about being on time. jp makes fun of me constantly about it, and in fact i will tell her to meet me at an earlier time just to ensure she shows up closer to the original plan, but i just think that punctuality is within your sphere of control. and in a world where so much is out of our control, wouldn't you want to exert a little bit of that by being ON TIME? granted, he's driving down from boston, where he's getting his phd at harvard [yes, yes, yes i'm bragging] but he also told me he was leaving around noon. um...if he HAD, then he'd have been here three hours ago and i wouldn't be writing this like some scorned ex girlfriend on prom night.
i know. i should know better. our older brother is always telling me to chill out, that living in nyc is actually incredibly bad for my already too present neurotic behavior, but i'm a stickler about time. i am. i mean, i thought we could go for a walk, maybe catch a movie. i've got to be at work early tomorrow, so i thought it'd be fun to have a nice evening after i cleaned the apartment like a psychotic housewife all morning. HUNGOVER. I GAVE MYSELF BRAIN DAMAGE FROM THE TILEX MILDEW REMOVER WHILE HUNGOVER FOR MY BROTHER WHO IS STILL NOT HERE.
my roommate's out of town with her new boyfriend - they went to seattle where he's apparently from. i don't remember his name. i know, it's awful, but i think it's kevin or alan or something and he doesn't look like a kevin or alan. he looks like a carl. or a sam. you'd know what i'm talking about if you saw him.
so it's been nice to pretend i live alone. and to not have to beg for our television to not be playing the bridezilla marathon that is always on. dear WE television: why? WHY?
for anyone keeping track: kate made it through her write-a-thon with flying colors [which means she didn't cramp, or as she put it, put a pencil through someone's eye because she's a bit grumpy these days and i'm honestly not sure why] and she was so tired last night that she didn't come out with me and kim even though we were RIGHT DOWN THE STREET FROM HER. whatever. she's an odd little egg, that one. i think it's from writing. you know, you live with made up characters in made up places so much, maybe your interactions with actual people are a bit difficult?
ok. i'm going to grab an iced coffee from pick-me-up while i wait for wyatt. i'm nearly finished with the memory keeper's daughter which teresa lent me and i'm enjoying it, though it's making me a little sad. maybe because lately, anytime i read or see something about a woman in a relationship that makes her trapped and unhappy, i see too much of myself and good ol' mr. x. as soon as i can exorcise him from my being, i think i'll be a lot happier without the glorious aids of caffeine and jack black videos online. i love jack black. does this say something about me? like love like most girls love brad pitt.
this summer sunday was a little cold, wasn't it? it reminded me of winters on the beach - the sand cold and damp beneath your feet, and while it's too warm to wear a sweater, you still feel chilled inside your bones. but it makes you feel alive. like the captain of a ship in a storm.
