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Intervention. I need an intervention. And so it begins.

January 8, 2014

There are so many things I need to say.

The boots… the BOOTS…

Sinner! I am a sinner. The greed is unbearable.

Sinner! I am a sinner. The greed is unbearable.

These are the boots that were a source of contention between TLTL and me over the past couple of days. After dinner, while walking past my favourite store on Friday, I spotted this pair of boots. Mind you, I just bought two brand new pairs of shoes and got another pair for the holiday. But these boots… My god.

TLTL said they were hideous. Yadda, yadda, yadda. As previously mentioned, he said they were tacky. Then last night, in cracking a joke about my flaws, he brought up the boots again. “Those boots,” he groaned as he turned to walk down the steps after a particular exciting few hours of “watching movies” in his bedroom. “Those boots are your biggest flaw. You are obsessed. You have a problem.”

“Again with the boots!” I whined at him dramatically. “I didn’t even bring up the boots this time! You did! And those boots are fucking lovely, you ass.”

Ah, so I found myself parked near the shoe store with my brother tonight, and I dragged him into the shoe store. He fought me at first, but I had him when I said, “Look. TLTL wouldn’t let me look at them the other night. You can’t stand TLTL. Why side with him now?” It was horribly low, but funny, and besides, we’ve been shopping here since we were little. Perhaps I can blame the obsession on that, but I suspect that’s denial.

Of course, the display pair was my size. They were the only pair in my size. I was sure I would hate them. Instead, I’m inspired to wear skinny jeans (black mostly, I suspect) for the first time in my life. Oh my god… the boots. Of course I was fawned over immediately when a sales woman recognized me from a couple weeks back when I purchased a pair of lime green boots. They have me pegged as the comfort shopper I am. Before I knew it, I was at home with the boots.

Fuuuuuuuuuuck. I need an intervention. Seriously. This is getting messed up. My brother didn’t stop me, even knowing that I’ve been comfort shopping – because he’s been doing the same thing. “How do you think we’re coping?” I deadpanned to him as I zipped up the first soft, blue leather boot to test it out. (Who am I kidding? We all knew I was going to buy the boots.)

“We’re coping,” he said, and he sounded a little insincere and sarcastic himself.

“And you know what the best part of this is?” I asked him, changing the subject. He raised an eyebrow at me. “I’m going to parade around in these in front of TLTL and see how long it takes him to notice.” Because he will notice.

These boots mark a new beginning.

Of course, that’s what I said about the two designer pairs of glasses I purchased last year.

Except, the thing is, I could be right. Each of these purchases makes me a bit bolder. I still blend in enough that no one bothers me, but I catch people’s attention. They want to know where I get the balls to put together the styles I do. Hell, after my hand surgery, I had at least three people a day rave to me about each of three versions of the cast I had designed since I had to wear one. It’s flattering. My style caught MTIA’s eye. It catches TLTL’s eye. My style is finally a real expression of myself, and it feels damn good to be myself.

But if you are recognized by your previous purchases and/or names at boutiques, well, you might need to chill a bit. Admitting I have a problem doesn’t make it less of a problem, though; I said the same thing about MTIA’s alcoholism a while back.

This is how it begins. MTIA and TLTL are performing at the same venue tonight. This may be the first time that had a formal performance together since everything started to fall apart, so it’s likely to be juicy. It starts with me staying away from said venue because I value my life. I start to find myself for the first time. I reconnect with my family after giving them a seemingly unfounded suicide attempt scare. They were there for rock bottom the other night, and so when I didn’t respond to texts, phone calls, or emails for five hours, they panicked, nearly driving across the city to my house to check on me. My brother was horrified by this when I told him about it tonight. I guess I didn’t realize how much more eggshell walking they’re doing around him than around me (and, well, rightly so… my best friend was his wife). “They need so seriously fucking chill,” he swore. I changed the subject yet again.

It begins with my brother arriving home tonight and burning the Pinon incense I gave him from Taos, New Mexico, which reminds him of his dead wife and the travels they had, and the travels he still plans to take with her ashes. He now believes her ghost is in their apartment, placing missing objects in the centers of his rooms. He will cry himself to sleep holding her wedding ring. He will beg for her to help him survive. I will beg for no one.

It begins with me seeing preview a preview for Spike Jonez’s new film Her and deciding to make as many jokes about the movie as humanly possible in an effort to stave off the sorrow, starting with this:
“This is going to be like every other shitty romantic tearjerker where a loved one dies at the end. Except Her death ends in a blue screen of death. And Him screaming into the evening city skyline, ‘I knew I needed to update my Kaspersky Anti-Virus! This is all my faaaaauuuuuult!’ He then breaks down sobbing with the realization that he will have to face the world IRL, just as it simultaneously that ‘Kaspersky’ sounds and awful lot like ‘Asperger’s’ when you really think about it. Ponderous. It’s a social commentary film on so many levels. An instant Spike Jonez classic.”

Look, I thought it was funny. If I act confidently enough about it, you know, the new REAL me, others will also found it funny. It will catch on. Bloggers will beg me for additional quips about movies, pop culture, and social media to the point that I’m asked to compete on @midnight.

(Have I mentioned that Joaquin Phoenix is absolutely gorgeous?)

It continues, with some emphasis on bullshitting with clients at work about childhood pets during days of nationwide server outages. Life is normal.

All of this will culminate in me involved again with TLTL, and just as things cool down between TLTL, MTIA, and me, MTIA will realize he can’t live without me. And I will fuck everything up. Perhaps I will become addicted to the heroin that keeps killing my friends and friends of friends in the city.


And now you have the basic abstract of And Then I Turned 30 part 2.

You’re welcome.

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