I bought a nice little leather pencil case.

At first I thought it was a real indulgence, and then I told myself to shut up because it wasn't really leather and was only seven dollars. I tend to quantify everything in terms of the orders of Pad Thai I could get for the cost of something--and unless it's a lunch special in a small town, you can't even get a serving for this price, therefore quantifying the cost as a pittance.

Anyway,  it was back to school time and I enjoyed putting my favorite pens in there and a couple of pencils too. I put my favorite casual, long-shaped lipstick, and even a tampon. Finally I had a place for things like that! Finally something that I always had a youngster that made me feel more like an adult, or at least feign the appearance of an organized, female one! Overall, I felt really together. Overall, I felt really happy.

Within a week I lost it.

I realize this post would really benefit from the inclusion of a photograph of it here. Maybe this is the whole issue. I think this is a case of my love and admiration for a thing only really happening after it is gone. Otherwise, why didn't I take a picture of it anyway? Why do I only have pictures of objects that have since been sold?

Well, that's not totally true. To prove it, here are some pictures of things that I also don't have anymore for a variety of reasons--none of which could be classified as "lost":

I got this for a dollar at the Bins and sold it for 50 on Craigslist--BUT! I still own the horse...even though all of his legs are broken off.

Dolphin Temporary Tattoo. Go figure.

My first cat, Bonnie. She's dead. I do still have my sister who is alive and well.

I gave away Bruce Willis' debut cassette as a joke at a Christmas exchange. This dress is also gone. As is my natural hair color. I still have those earrings though. They are made of beads attached to paper attached to a stud.

And so so so much more. I can only hope that heaven is a lot more like the TV show Hoarders than any religion is comfortable discussing.

I Stole One Story Element From Each of the MFA 1st Years and Wrote the Worst Movie Pitch Ever.

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The year? 2041.

A demure, tabloid-writing WOLF with a penchant for romance discovers that two big time USC recruiters are going to be at this week's big high school football game. Putting aside the angst he feels about his parents pending divorce, Wolf, decides to taint the local dairy's milk so he can then break the story first! However, MONICA, an esteemed, and highly attractive archeologist turned special agent, along side her effeminate, porker of a brother, ANDREW, who have just been hired at the dairy's super-secret-so-secret-I-don't-even-know-how-I'm-writing-this-right-now-it's-so-secret organization, FIND OUT.

In a mad dash to stop Wolf, save the milk, AND the big game, Monica and Andrew blackmail him with the lone VHS copy of his stage debut... A mix of anger and nostalgia force Wolf to choose between the story of his life (wolves don't live that long) and the last relic of a younger, more idealistic version of himself.  Is Wolf's quest for tabloid-writing glory the ultimate cover-up? Of himself???

Monica and Andrew (whose father had a beloved horse that sort of looked like the wolf), begin to fall for Wolf and vow to help him reclaim his former self and passions. Soon Andrew realizes that this was just displaced affection for their father whose death Andrew wasn't able to mourn until meeting the wolf. He paints his room pink and is fine while the couple rework their "meet cute" story and turn it into a hit Broadway production!

In this wacky Woman vs. Beast football drama, love story, no inciting incident is too big and no midpoint too middle-ish to take this trio on a wild ride through time, milk, and the 40 yard line.
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I wouldn't watch it. Maybe it's actually a good thing that we all can't hold hands and succeed together. In other news, the year 2041 is trending.