thursday, september 2, 1999

Ah. New digs. Feels good. Really good. This was kind of sudden for me, but it felt right. I knew I wasn't ready to give up journaling, especially since it's not an open-ended thing for me. I mean, at one point I will be done with law school and have to move, study for the bar, find a job. I think at that point I will have to do as Megan did and bow out indefinitely. But not yet! I've still got nine months, baby, and I won't be going anywhere until then. The title for the entry (not something I'll do regularly, I don't think) was a result of the fact that I've had some rather high hit counts to this page in its first two days. (Not that I mind, of course!) But it reminded me of that "Twelve Days of Christmas" song parody, the "Twelve Pains of Christmas," where one of the things at Christmas that's such a pain is "sending Christmas cards," and at one point the guy exclaims "I don't even KNOW half these people!" That's my favorite line. And I don't even KNOW half of you, but I'm glad you're here. I'd send you all Christmas cards, truly. I spent last Saturday night in Annapolis with my mother. We were meeting my aunt, who used to live there and was in town for a wedding. While my aunt was at the wedding, my mom and I shopped up and down the main street in the old part of town right by the water. We stumbled into an arts and crafts store called Easy Street. In the back was a display of sculptures and prints by an artist named Brian Andreas. They're called Story People. At first glance, they look odd. Rough, harsh, almost childlike. But when I stopped to examine them closely, browsing through the prints, reading the stories, I was overwhelmed. So simple, so strange, but so powerful. I left the store that day without buying anything, but I couldn't get the words and images out of my mind. I went back and bought this one on my way out of town. It had been one of the first ones I'd seen, and it hit me square in the chest. Go look at it. It's hard to see, but the text is printed out at the top of the page. Go on, go look. I was compelled to buy her. I am not her, but I will be. Someday.