“Cher, you’re a voigin who can’t drive…” – Tai (Clueless 1995)

There’s something imperceptibly sexy about a pair of cotton Hanes underwear. Full-coverage, elastic banded, a shade of beige or burgundy, even perhaps a little bow tied just below the belly button. Maybe I’m just deluded; maybe my perception of “sexy” is (what’s the PC term for) "retarded." Nonetheless, it was a pair of Hanes underwear that gots me a thinking. And so it is underwear that is the placenta to the birth of this post…

Sometimes, but not often, I have these moments when I finally begin to understand the appeal of having a close knit romantic relationship. Someone who calls you all the time, someone you go out to eat with, watch movies, and hold hands with... and whatever else the kids get up to... or down with for that matter.... these days.

Last night I returned to the big city after a quick trip to the Niagara region to apparently go to Simcoe to get my G license. (Which I did rather righteously might I add.) A few days earlier, I had finished writing and polishing the first draft of my first feature film screenplay. Think coming-of-age fantasy, 90s grunge-influenced youth dealing with their parents and the fate of their afterlives… Donnie Darko meets Eternal Sunshine meets… My Girl… except not at all. (The References change almost daily.) Anyways, after I was back in T.O, I emailed the .pdf off to my professor, which then left my night virtually free to engage in any sort of leisure activity my heart so desired. I ran some errands, checked off a few must-do’s in my planner and eventually found that it was time to just, i don't even know, relax or something like it.

What is my definition of "relax"? Well in a cable-less house, it’s difficult to discern… because had we a tv relaxing wouldn’t feel so much like work and at the same time it wouldn't feel so much like “doing nothing,” and i HATE doing nothing. Therefore having cable tv would significantly reduce my anxiety. But that isn't an option. So the big question is: What does one do alone on a Friday night wearing Hanes underwear, feeling accomplished, and finally kind of social? I’d like to say I had myriads of options come to mind, but as I discovered, I’m not as creative with my free time as I once thought I was.

Eventually I decided to put on some tunes. And then I paced around my room a bit, around the empty house, and eventually around the neighborhood, and the greater GTA. And I did this all alone, might I add. Back at home I swept the kitchen floor. This and my music compilation of unrequited love songs were my major mistakes of the evening. There is just something so elusively allusive about the kitchen floor that makes me think about love. Boys particularly. It’s not the floor itself… but the many streams of consciousness that evolve within my mind as a result of the idea of the kitchen floor. I think blue denim and painting walls. I think rainstorms and making pancakes. I think endless conversation and uncomfortable but elated eye-contact... Christmas-themed boxer shorts etc. etc. … All of which are random activities generally done in the company of a significant other and yet all random activities I have only done with humans of the female persuasion (not that I don’t love women… but more than often not in the way a male would affect each of these circumstances.)

Truth be told, I get acutely scared that I’m wasting my youthful looks on my own four walls and computer screen. But then again I shouldn’t worry so much. Stress causes women to age at an irregularly rapid rate. So if and when, any of these Kitchen floor moments come to fruition I might be naturally shriveled like my fingertips post bath-time… and that’s the really scary thought. So I’m having this debacle debate over and over in my head… and I’m arguing back and forth with myself about how I am, and what I want and how it all contradicts each other… and at that very thought I stopped! I literally just threw down the broom and left the kitchen, and the pile of rice-krispees swept into the corner of the floor, and I went to sit on the stairs to reflect... because God forbid I have one thoughtless moment to myself. I realized this is what happens when I have a bit of free time. I think that it would be nice to pencil someone in when I see fit. But once something exciting with a deadline comes up in my life, I just want to erase their existence 100 percent completely - shutter at the thought if they come up again etc. I think the best thing for me and for all babes out there, is just avoid romance or the teased thought of a relationship, and just save it for my imagination and various written scene studies. That’s all. That's all there is to it. I'm Cher friggin Horawitz and I'm saving myself for Luke Perry, except not him... but the idea of him... yah know?

So what’s my New Year’s resolution? Graduate next semester (obviously) AND be a human being who could if they wanted, have it all – the work thing, the friend thing and maybe the kitchen floor-Hanes-her-way-meets-Christmas-boxer shorts-thing. No, 86 that completely right away right now, 100 percent!! My New Years resolution is to continue to trust myself and continue to be in two places at once. I know that makes no sense at all... but I don't make sense sometimes. It’s not a bad thing. And it’s a fairly easy resolution to keep. But then again, I don’t like it “easy.” I don't like it "easy" at all.

Maybe I'll see you New Years Eve... maybe I won't,
Lo.

If I were a holiday decoration I would be: This depends. I say I’d be a Nativity set, but I know I’m actually homemade construction paper garland rings made with Elmer’s glue at heart.
Wow. I like run on sentences.