a hook | a finger | inside the mouth
Jul. 14th, 2008 10:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
horizon_greeneWe've had so much rain the past few days, it's completely disorienting. I went to the artwalk in Scottsdale on Thursday, and it rained and rained and rained, all evening long. I got soaked walking from gallery to gallery, and there were photographers taking my picture for the local magazines and it just wasn't good, really. But there was an artist on one corner with a cart set up beneath an enormous umbrella, selling buttons with little fragments of text printed on them. They were lovely, and I bought a few.
After the galleries, I had a late dinner with some friends. We were a very international group that night—it was myself, another American, two Germans, a Swiss, and a Spaniard (but not Roger and Rafa, alas). Between the rain, the accents, and the fact that I was taking public transportation for only the second time in the 17 years I've lived in this city, it really didn't feel like I was in Phoenix anymore.
It rained again yesterday, a typically violent summer monsoon. I had to move my car because the street where I had parked it was flooded with nearly a foot of water. All that water evaporated today and the humidity was awful. I've been working in my mom's garage, refinishing a dining room table for my new place, and it's just gross being outside like that. I'm looking forward to completing the project so that I can remain inside during the evenings!
So anyway, I'm still glowing from Rafa's win. I didn't post about it much in the days and weeks leading up to the final; to be honest, I was terrified of jinxing him—I'm fairly superstitious when it comes to sports. It seemed to work, anyhow, and now it's kind of a funny feeling that I'm left with. Between Wimbledon '06 and '07, and the entire history of the Phoenix Suns franchise, I'm accustomed to heartbreak. And now suddenly Rafa's done it, done this thing that—aside from certain things that could happen directly in my own life—I've wanted most in the world, and I don't know what to do! It's a wonderful thing, but very unfamiliar, this sports-related happiness.
(Did anyone else get a funny feeling when they saw Rafa in one of his interviews, arm bandaged with gauze where they drew his blood after the match? Maybe it's just me, but it was a funny feeling and I was a bit unsettled by it.)
Meanwhile, I've found myself reading copious amounts of football (aka soccer) slash over the past couple of weeks. It's odd—I had such disdain for Fernando Torres during the entirety of Euro 2008. I couldn't stand him. And suddenly something changed and now I'm enamored with him and it's just silly, I don't want it—but what can you do? Sometimes it feels like the boy chooses you, and not the other way around.
After the galleries, I had a late dinner with some friends. We were a very international group that night—it was myself, another American, two Germans, a Swiss, and a Spaniard (but not Roger and Rafa, alas). Between the rain, the accents, and the fact that I was taking public transportation for only the second time in the 17 years I've lived in this city, it really didn't feel like I was in Phoenix anymore.
It rained again yesterday, a typically violent summer monsoon. I had to move my car because the street where I had parked it was flooded with nearly a foot of water. All that water evaporated today and the humidity was awful. I've been working in my mom's garage, refinishing a dining room table for my new place, and it's just gross being outside like that. I'm looking forward to completing the project so that I can remain inside during the evenings!
So anyway, I'm still glowing from Rafa's win. I didn't post about it much in the days and weeks leading up to the final; to be honest, I was terrified of jinxing him—I'm fairly superstitious when it comes to sports. It seemed to work, anyhow, and now it's kind of a funny feeling that I'm left with. Between Wimbledon '06 and '07, and the entire history of the Phoenix Suns franchise, I'm accustomed to heartbreak. And now suddenly Rafa's done it, done this thing that—aside from certain things that could happen directly in my own life—I've wanted most in the world, and I don't know what to do! It's a wonderful thing, but very unfamiliar, this sports-related happiness.
(Did anyone else get a funny feeling when they saw Rafa in one of his interviews, arm bandaged with gauze where they drew his blood after the match? Maybe it's just me, but it was a funny feeling and I was a bit unsettled by it.)
Meanwhile, I've found myself reading copious amounts of football (aka soccer) slash over the past couple of weeks. It's odd—I had such disdain for Fernando Torres during the entirety of Euro 2008. I couldn't stand him. And suddenly something changed and now I'm enamored with him and it's just silly, I don't want it—but what can you do? Sometimes it feels like the boy chooses you, and not the other way around.
