Friday, November 24, 2006


My co-blogger and brother Estifallen* is riding his bicycle up the California coast for the next couple (several?) weeks, so I spent Thanksgiving on my own. I think this was my fourth Thanksgiving spent alone, and I'm actually fine with that. As I get older, I care less and less about holidays. I haven't really celebrated my birthday since I turned 21 - and that involved drinking so much champagne with my friends that I was unable to read the menu by the time we went to dinner - and now Thanksgiving and Christmas are also beginning to lose their luster. I may finally have emerged from my cocoon as the bitchy cynic I was always destined to become. Awesome.

I had an appointment with my therapist yesterday. She's really starting to grow on me. I didn't know what I was getting myself into when I started seeing her. I thought maybe we'd do some cognitive behavioral therapy, but that is not her specialty. Instead we talk about my feelings. It took me a long time to get past my initial discomfort with the "feelings" stuff, but seeing her now is kind of like seeing a friend, albeit a more sophisticated, better educated friend than most of my actual LA friends. I'm reading The Beauty Myth, so we talked about that a bit. I think she may have gotten the impression that I'm insecure about my looks, which is not always the case. It used to be a big issue for me, but it has lately been superseded by insecurity about my personality brought about by Internet dating. I am undeterred, however, in my quest for a brilliant and witty boyfriend. It's a big step for me to look at dating as anything other than a competitive catfight. I think it's super unhealthy to look at other women as rivals. If a man is more interested in another woman than he is in me, I'm okay with that. I'm such a grown-up now, right? I'm certainly impressed with myself....

Naomi Wolf quotes William Butler Yeats in the Sex chapter of The Beauty Myth:

Only God, my dear
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.

I don't feel like writing anymore; I would prefer to drink a glass of wine and read blogs written by writers with talent and something to talk about besides me, me, me. I just felt like putting those three lines up because they are so totally creepy. By this time next week, I hope to be a blonde no more (speaking of yellow hair). I am strongly considering dark brown hair. I think I am less likely to be mistaken for a sunny optimist with darker hair. Going dark has the added benefit of getting my eyebrows tinted to match. I love, love, love dark eyebrows. Love them. Never had them, always wanted them. They give character to a face. Think Rachel Weisz (who I am totally crushing on, BTW) or Jennifer Connelly.

*"Estif" is how "Steve" sounds when spoken by native Latin American Spanish speakers.


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