Dear Diary,
I just Googled “can Tom Sandoval do a back handspring” because it’s my dream to learn how, and I thought if he can do it, I can do it. (There is no factual evidence that he can do a back handspring, but doesn’t he seem like someone who would learn to do it just to get attention?)
I once read that Diane Arbus felt and acted as though she were being filmed at all times. I had never heard anyone say this before, but I completely relate to this. Sometimes I can feel when someone is observing me, and I act as though I have no idea, but I am fully aware.
I talk to my sister on the phone for about 2 hours once a month, but we send each other videos and memes of Pedro Pascal nearly every day. She told me she had a sex dream about him. I’m happy for her, really, I am. I know my time will come. Maybe I’ll watch that episode of NYPD Blue right before bed. You know, the one from 2001 where he plays a Satanic goth named Dio. He stares the detective in the eyes while showing the palm of his hand, revealing the pentagram, which he then licks and speaks made-up Latin.
I’ve decided to become a financial dominatrix. I’m a goddess who demands money from strangers for being mean to them or simply ignoring them. I told my 85-year-old roommate about it, and he loves the idea. His only concern was strangers knowing our address. (He was under the assumption that these men would be mailing me checks.) I told him all the payments are done online and that he didn’t need to worry.
It's amazing to me that theater actors perform plays multiple times. To me, a play should happen once. I feel the same way about singers singing the same song over and over again. I imagine having all of those feelings, writing a song about them, and singing it once, as a release. But they have to sing it over and over in the recording studio and go on tour and sing it every day. A painter doesn’t paint the same painting over and over, do they? That would make them crazy.
Just when I think I’ve figured out my signature style, it changes. One minute, I have bleached eyebrows, and I’m wearing wide-leg floral pants paired with a leopard faux fur coat and a striped hat. The next day, I’m in all black with loafers. It makes me feel like I don’t know myself, but really I think it’s just wanting to explore different characters; how they behave and what responses they get from strangers. Am I the funky, fun girl, or am I rich, giving off that quiet luxury look? I don’t know. All I know is that right now I need to wear very simple pieces in blacks, greys, and navys paired with a red sock and a loafer.
Ok, bye!
Update: I had a dream that Pedro was my boyfriend. We didn’t have sex, but we did wrestle in bed, which was fun.