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High Heels Are Evil
March 30th, 2002 - 5:14 p.m.I'm Currently Avoiding:
So I guess it's time to update again. And again in the daytime. Whee. It's not as weird this time because it's a Saturday and Saturdays are a different story altogether. Although normally, I don't think I'm awake at 5 pm on Saturday afternoons. But I woke up at like 4:30 or so and the characters in my head wouldn't shut up so I had to get up and write down the damn dialogue. I think I should get dressed and go back to the bookstore. I never get to read for fun anymore. I probably won't though. I'll probably just do dishes and cook at home and not go anywhere this evening instead. I'm so lazy.
Speaking of the bookstore...(what a segue, bah!) Yesterday evening (or last night, same thing), I was reading in the bookstore with no intention of buying again. I don't know if it was because I was wearing a skirt or something (it was a very respectable one, it came down to my ankles...get your mind out of the gutter!) or what, but people kept talking to me and it was weird. Not people my age, either, but people who were old and male and rather disturbing.
It was strange because one of the guys mistook me for a graduate student from Swarthmore who wanted to come to Penn for Philosophy graduate work. And the other one thought I was a freshman! I don't know if I should be flattered or insulted, in both cases. I mean, should I be flattered that one person thought I was old while the other person thought I was younger than I actually am? I don't know...it's confusing. I could babble further about the weird people (especially the second one...44, black, and he was asking disturbing questions about where I lived. Plus, he was talking to himself out loud before he was talking to me and it was rather disturbing) but I don't really feel like it, considering that I've been writing this off and on for nearly four hours now and that's more than long enough. At least, given my current level of enthusiasm or whatever. Oh, and on the way home when I was walking, this girl asked me where I got my shoes, because she liked them so much. I told her and she was surprised. What I didn't tell her was that the shoes are evil for walking in...I have four blisters, including one in a place I didn't think you could get blisters, total on two feet.
incognito (adv. adj. in-kahg-NEE-toh or in-KAHG-nuh-toh)
: with one's identity concealed
The ancient Greeks and Romans knew that there were times when you didn't want to be recognized. For example, a myth tells how Zeus and Hermes visited a village incognito and asked for lodging. The apparently penniless travelers were turned away from every household except that of a poor elderly couple named Baucis and Philemon, who provided a room and a feast despite their own poverty. The Romans had a word for someone or something that was unknown (as were the gods in the tale): incognitus, a term that is the ancestor of our modern incognito.
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And I like it that way.