It has been about two to three months since I've had a proper manicure and pedicure. I know this because I patiently let all of my nail polish from the prior session peel away. All I have left are two stubborn crescent moons of polish left on my two big toes. You're disgusting, Julie. Shut up. You're just me talking to myself.
It has been more than two years since I have seen Shantira Jackson. My boisterous, pumped up friend and former roommate who is tall, black, religious and nothing - NOTHING - like me. We only get along when we discard our pants, watch comedy television, and sing off-tune together.
It has been three days since I've cut my finger by accident with a knife. I blame my mother, of course. Broad had the nerve to lovingly give me a bag of oranges; one of which I was eager to eat for breakfast at work. Note to self: do not use your SOG knife to cut fruit.
It has been about fifteen hours since I was under the influence. It's all apart of growing up.
It has been five seconds since I've received a spam email. I die a little on the inside when I get one. First it was the postal mail, and now our emails. I just wanted to sign up for your damn site. No, I don't want to receive updates from you. I don't care if you're excited about something you're selling. It is easier to break a leg than it is to unsubscribe from a registry.
It has been seventeen hours since I watched a good movie, and about six days since I've seen a bad one. The good movie happened when I decided to eat dinner and watch a movie by myself yesterday evening. The Edwards in the University Center plays a lot of smaller, independent movies. You know those movies that play only in "Select Theaters"? This is it. As I tilted my head and smiled at another innocent and lighthearted masterpiece by Miyazaki, I felt at peace.
It's been three hours since I've talked to my mother. A little more than two hours since I've talked to my boyfriend. A little over a day since I've talked to one brother, and about three weeks since I've talked to the other brother.
One month since I've considered liking dub step. Almost a year since I've stepped into a friend's throw up. Four and a half years since my car accident. Almost two years since I've eaten at hotel buffet in Vegas. Almost two months since I've first had Lay's Sriarcha Sauce chips. Two days since I've scared myself. A week since I've online shopped. Three hours since I've given advice. One day since I've asked for it. It's a bit strange, and it's a bit nice. This feeling while counting back on all the little, insignificant details that somehow all provide a line to re-trace our steps back to when we've made them. It has been too long.
