Price tag.

Date went well; got a second date coming up. Got his phone number. Getting tea with him on Wednesday. He admitted he was nervous; I swear, he just gets more adorable the more I talk to him.

Amusing thing about my date: crazy ex-boyfriend was there with his girlfriend in the theatre. Watching the same film. I thought I was hallucinating but nope, definitely him. It was really quite funny to me, seeing as when he read my tumblr and confronted me via text when we weren't even going out that he was "sorry I'm not cute physics guy," i.e. Jamie. Not exactly something you can mention in casual conversation on a first date, but whatever.

Also, first date? I think there will be plenty more coming up. This is nice. I like this. A lot, actually.

Age of Adz.

I HAVE A DATE WITH JAMIE ON SATURDAY EVENING AND WE'RE GOING TO GO SEE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO AND AND AND AND AND HE PLAYED ME THINGS FOR LIKE AN HOUR ON THE GUITAR AND MANDOLIN AT THE PARTY WE WENT TO LAST NIGHT AND THIS IS THE HAPPIEST I HAVE BEEN IN AGES SO CAPS LOCK IS REQUIRED ALSO BOLD ASKLDJ @U#$)_H!U@P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Absolutely zero.

I went to bed at ten last night because it was better than lying on my bed in foetal position and it seemed like a good way to pretend I didn't exist. Then I slept in until after eleven.

It is getting to the point where I try to find ways to pretend I am not alive, and I don't think that's very good. Clearly there is something not good about this, but I can't for the life of me begin to fathom what it really is, though.

Impossible soul.

Updated to-do list:

- Jane Austen paper: revise, finish conclusion, underline topic sentences, REFLECTIVE MEMO DETAILING PROCESS [due 29 Nov] Fifteen pages if you include skeletal outline and reflective memo
- Victorian crime paper: make sense of argument, finish writing, revise [due 30 Nov] Eleven pages
- read articles for Jane Austen; YOUR FINAL EXAM IS ON 1 DECEMBER And it was awful.
- quiz bowl tournament 3 Dec; also, celebrate your mother's birthday somehow, perhaps by taking her out for coffee on the 2nd because Dad will be taking her out to dinner and they'll be going to Nashville on the night of the 3rd to see the Sabres
- buy your mother a birthday present
- creative writing portfolio with some revised work due 5 Dec Revising today!
- read short stories for Creative Writing: annotate, do letters [one for 28 Nov, two for 30 Nov] About four pages of letters
- VAMPIRE PAPER?????? ALEX WHAT ARE YOU EVEN WRITING ABOUT (12-15 pgs) [due 9 Dec]
- take-home finals: theory (10-14 pgs), Vict Crime (no more than 4 pages) both due 7 Dec
- history final 14 Dec

Mayfly.

Updated to-do list:

- Jane Austen paper: revise, finish conclusion, underline topic sentences, REFLECTIVE MEMO DETAILING PROCESS [due 29 Nov] Fifteen pages if you include skeletal outline and reflective memo
- Victorian crime paper: make sense of argument, finish writing, revise [due 30 Nov] Eleven pages
- read articles for Jane Austen; YOUR FINAL EXAM IS ON 1 DECEMBER (TONIGHT)
- quiz bowl tournament 3 Dec; also, celebrate your mother's birthday somehow, perhaps by taking her out for coffee on the 2nd because Dad will be taking her out to dinner and they'll be going to Nashville on the night of the 3rd to see the Sabres
- buy your mother a birthday present
- creative writing portfolio with some revised work due 5 Dec
- read short stories for Creative Writing: annotate, do letters [one for 28 Nov, two for 30 Nov] About four pages of letters
- VAMPIRE PAPER?????? ALEX WHAT ARE YOU EVEN WRITING ABOUT (12-15 pgs) [due 9 Dec]
- take-home finals: theory (10-14 pgs), Vict Crime (no more than 4 pages) both due 7 Dec
- history final 14 Dec

Running.

To do:

- Jane Austen paper: revise, finish conclusion, underline topic sentences, REFLECTIVE MEMO DETAILING PROCESS [due 29 Nov]

- Victorian crime paper: make sense of argument, finish writing, revise [due 30 Nov]

- read articles for Jane Austen; YOUR FINAL EXAM IS ON 1 DECEMBER

- quiz bowl tournament 3 Dec; also, celebrate your mother's birthday somehow, perhaps by taking her out for coffee on the 2nd because Dad will be taking her out to dinner and they'll be going to Nashville on the night of the 3rd to see the Sabres

- buy your mother a birthday present

- creative writing portfolio with some revised work due 5 Dec

- read short stories for Creative Writing: annotate, do letters [one for 28 Nov, two for 30 Nov]

- VAMPIRE PAPER?????? ALEX WHAT ARE YOU EVEN WRITING ABOUT (12-15 pgs) [due 9 Dec]

- take-home finals: theory (10-14 pgs), Vict Crime (no more than 4 pages) both due 7 Dec

- history final 14 Dec

ALSO:

- ask SIC out somehow

- keep calm

- do not panic

- go Christmas shopping for everyone you know, especially your flatmates, although you can do that once you turn in your vampire paper

- stop stalking people you hate

- STOP MOTHERFUCKING PROCRASTINATING AND GET BACK TO WORK

Crown of love.

Listening to Funeral for the first time in a long time; I'd forgotten how great this album is. Every track, every note--does something to me.

It makes me think of last year. But I'm not as sad as I was this time last year. I still have my moments, but it's not as crushing as it used to be.

I will survive, hey hey.

Are you satisfied?

Seth added me on Google+. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

No. Not this time, or not for a while, at least.

Meanwhile, this song runs through my head at far too late at night.

It's my problem

if I want to pack up and run away

it's my business if I feel the need to smoke and drink and sway

It's my problem, it's my problem if I feel the need to hide

and it's my problem if I feel I have no friends and want to die

On the bright side, Oscar Wilde. And tea with Jamie next week. And sleeping now.

We rule the school.

My favourite part of yesterday (besides drunken debauchery in the eventide at Oz) was when Marcella and I were at the Flea off Market, eating delicious cake things. We need to go again; it’s a fabulous little thing that’s just started up, big enough to have a lot of vendors but small enough so that you have time to see everything.

But we sat there and recalled how we met, and then Marcella said, “We met through Seth.” Then we started laughing, because neither one of us is friends with him anymore. And it was some of the best laughter I've felt in quite a long time, even though it wasn't one of those super-giggles, if you know what I mean.

I'm really glad I have such fantastic friends.

For the widows in Paradise, for the fatherless in Ypsilanti.

This conversation further reminds me why I hate myself, why I view myself as having little to no worth in society, why I am an utter failure when it comes to social interactions. I despise myself more than words can say.

... and now I'm posting multiple things on the internet about it. Fantastic. Is that a cry for attention or what? How very vain of you, Alex. How very fucking vain. I'm proud of you in this moment for fucking up every relationship you've ever attempted to pursue. Space Ice Cream will remain wholly uninterested and you can't even get your throat open to ask him out on a proper date. You hold onto someone who doesn't give a flying fuck about you, and you destroyed a brilliant friendship with somebody else because you couldn't love them. They broke it off with a potential love interest, and you screwed them over. Doesn't even matter if you were explicit before. Now you've not talked in two weeks. How's that make you feel?

Flying pieces of shit. I hate everything much more than I ever thought I could.

Blindsided.

(1) I am bad at interpreting the facts of the situation and hold out false hope.

(2) I hate everything.

(3) This short story will not revise itself.

(4) I'm hormonal.

(5) I don't know what I'm even thinking anymore.

(6) Help.

Nantes.

Things currently on my mind:

1. Jane Austen paper. Not wanting to write aforementioned Jane Austen paper. Never wanting to write papers about Jane Austen ever again for my entire life.

2. Short story due Friday that I have mildly first-drafted. Fuck.

3. The fact that someone with a girlfriend keeps kind of flirting with me, which is just... all sorts of weird.

4. My relationship with SIC. I got to hang out with him today, and it was quite nice, and I nearly asked him out and then didn't because I am a coward, but... I don't know... there might be something there... there might be something there...

5. Boy With Girlfriend Hitting On Me who is convinced that SIC and I stand a real chance and that I should go for it, although who is he to judge SIC's heart?, but then also stating that his happiness is "entirely too dependent" on my own. Almost like he cares more for me than he does for his girlfriend. What the fuck.

6. Said Boy hitting on Colton.

7. Emily is freaking out about not knowing what courses to take, although to be honest I'm a little bit shocked that she's so ignorant of what our programme requires... she'll be taking the most basic English major course next term. I took it nearly two years ago. She's getting really angry and sort of bitchy about it, which is kind of understandable (to be frustrated) but also at the same time it's like... really? You are taking twelve hours and you don't have a job. You have PLENTY OF TIME to get an advising appointment and to think these things through. I don't quite understand and I know this sounds really unsympathetic and... I don't know.

Oops, she's shouting now, I'd better go see what this is about. Sorry to sound like a bitch. Then I'll go work on this !)#(*@)!$&%*(# paper.

THEN I GET TO SEE MARCELLA ON SATURDAY YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY

Oh shit "Hard to Concentrate" just came on shuffle. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

At the beach.

Marie sent me a picture of Weeping Angels on her campus as a way to show me that she's thinking of me.

I have a lot of feelings about this.

Holland, 1945.

Please talk to me. Please let's get married. Please teach me the mandolin. Please play for me again and make the face that you make when you play. Please eat ice cream with me. Please be wonderful. Please hope that I'll say hello as much as I hope you'll say hello.

(And you... a much different you... I loved holding your hand... what if we did that again?)

Song for a friend.

If we were meant to be together, then we would be. I don't mean this in a "fate handles everything" way, but you would have picked me over her. The fact that you chose her says something about her, something about you, and something about me. We have had what we have had, and what we had was great at the time, but I can't hold onto a stupid hope. I've gone past that stage now. I just know that I am not yours and you are not mine, so I can't even pretend that our prior history is something to go on. That's not what matters now. What matters is now.

I mean none of this in a pity-me-I'm-so-alone way. It's just something I realised while sleeping, and it's allowed me to live.

Breathe.

My favourite part of last night was singing "You Belong with Me" with you at two in the morning. It felt appropriate. As did "Last Request" by Paolo Nutini, which came on shuffle and was oddly timed as one of the most appropriate songs ever.

I don't even know what this means. Nothing good, I can imagine.

Re: stacks.

This is the shittiest weekend I can remember. I've already been feeling low for the past two weeks (lower this week than last due to the whole Ram thing), my mum had surgery on Friday to remove her gallbladder (and my parents almost didn't tell me about it) and now she's in a great deal of pain and needs constant care, and one of the fish died (Lindy), so now she's incredibly upset about that, too.

Fuck everything in the world. I just want to hibernate. I know my mum can't help it, but... this is not what I need. I am sick of feeling so... I don't even know.

I'm just angry and venting on the internet, that's all.

Lump sum.

Moral ambiguity!

Romulus.

From a Facebook interaction, from Marie to Kevin:

Kevin: I was actually at school all summer, which is why you haven't heard from me. YEY summer classes right? School is good but I miss home and you. How are you doing?
Marie: right now, i'm actually at work, roswell as usual :) and when i'm not focusing so hard on work, i'm just hanging out and spending time with family friends mostly... anji and alex have abandoned me in buffalo :( but i'm going back next monday to rochester, changed majors! epi major now, with a bit of health policy thrown in... i miss you too!! are you coming back for christmas?? oh and my brother joined the air force and is now in phillie for med school, cool huh?!!?

anji and alex have abandoned me in buffalo
(said obviously in jest)

Marie, we moved to different states with our families.
Marie, I never wanted to abandon you.
Marie, you changed your major to something that isn't strict med school?
Marie, you still remember me?
Marie, you still wish you could see me?

Marie, I still love you so much, and miss you more than I can say. I wish I could tell you everything that has happened to me in the time that I've been away from you, but I'm not even sure if I could find the right words for it all.

Blinding.

Ram has a girlfriend now.

The girl who he told me all summer long he didn't like as much as me, but has apparently had something going with her dating back to April.

And I only just found out through Facebook

and them being couple-y at quiz bowl practise

and I'd sort of like to crawl into a hole somewhere and maybe cry for a very long time.

Fuck everything, honestly.

Oh God where are you now? (In Pickerel Lake? Pigeon? Marquette? Mackinaw?)

Sometimes I am overcome with this awful sensation, this knowledge that I will die, and I fear it may be soon. I don't mean that I'm actively thinking of killing myself; none of that, not at all. Nor do I have some sort of congenital heart defect that will unexpectedly cut my life short. The only sort of fear I can compare it to is what they felt in sixteenth-century England, where life could end at any point. An overwhelming realisation that, at some point, I will die. I don't know when, don't know how, nor do I particularly care to know.

Mostly it is not a fear of death, but a fear of not having lived before this death. But then the fear of death prevents me from actually going out and living, keeps me inside and reading my homework, stops me from hanging out with friends.

I'm just neurotic and hormonal at this point and I know it and recognise that my hormones are spurring this entry, but even so... it frightens me that it frightens me.

Hunter.

I read theory and UNDERSTOOD IT.

HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE. I don't even...

Now to go examine vampire things or something, and then work on writing things, and feeling better about myself because I've actually been semi-productive today.

West coast.

This week has been interesting; first weeks tend to be, I suppose. Nearly all my classes are fairly bamftastic and even theory isn't scaring me as much as it really should. Haven't done enough homework, though, which is why I am sitting home on a Saturday night after bantering with my roommates and perhaps dancing around like a bit of a loon and banging on the ceiling with brooms because, like, our upstairs roommates are far too loud for their own good... or would that be for our own good? Something like that. I don't know. At any rate, I need to do homework now. Be reading Sense & Sensibility, Frankenstein, theory, short stories, vampire articles, writing my own scene, a short story or two of my own. Not ruining friendships. Might have accidentally done that earlier this week.

Oh well. Feeling of Doom has come and somewhat gone. Let's keep it gone.

Also, the new Red Hot Chili Peppers album is really good.

Sister.

[Bit of a ranty blog, please bear with me--I might be a bit hormonal, hence the emotion.]

- Seth has randomly started texting me again. It took me a while to figure out who it was, but after I contacted Marcella, it confirmed my gut instinct. He said he had "a great story idea" for me, but since it was so deep, he'd need to call me in order to explain it all. I didn't respond. Last night, he simply said, "Okay, I'll send it to you through text," and sent me about eight messages worth of this situation involving a tool bag that has been passed down from co-op student to co-op student, and he thought I could write a story about the origin of this tool bag. Hmmm. It's definitely not something I am interested in. I didn't respond again, and then today, he texted me (AGAIN) with "Hopefully, you got all of that text I sent you last night." Stop texting me. My life was fine before you came back into it. It's not fair of you to think you can revoke your friendship casually, sending me into a pit of despair and emotionality (a bit dramatic, but that's really quite how I felt for a while), and then come back a few months later and act as if nothing happened, ever. I am so done with that.

- Already the Feeling of Doom has begun. Not only have my syllabi freaked me out, but not being able to hang out with Ram really upset me for some reason. I've already started sort of "lying" to my flatmates, going out and saying that I was going to meet up with someone while really just walking around campus aimlessly for an hour, or going outside the library at ten at night in order to write in my journal because I'd rather not do it in the flat. I realise this is ridiculous, but last night, I just got so frustrated--I wanted human company, but I didn't want any human I knew or random strangers, some bizarre combination of "To Be Alone with You" versus "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out"--and couldn't face a room of seven people so I just shut myself in my room and tried to go to bed at half-past eleven at night, sobbing. This is stupid. I am stupid for doing this. I was looking forward to getting out of this rut, and already I can feel myself becoming stuck in it again.

- Last.fm no longer syncs well with my iPod. Not a major thing, but still quite upsetting and/or frustrating, because now my stats are wholly inaccurate, and if there is one thing I do love, it is my stats. Perhaps it is time that I really do invest in a new iPod cord... or a new iPod, maybe, at some point... >.<

As a tl;dr, I'll just give a summary: Seth's frustrating and I want him out, I cry too much, and life sucks. TRA LA LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

Fix you.

Just read the syllabi for two of my (300-level and supposedly "easier") courses and I'm scared witless. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu. Maybe I'll have to drop something after all--it depends on what, though...

Also, Ram just found out he no longer has a co-op, because the company went bust and never told him until just now. This sucks beyond words and I wish I could help him somehow.

Everything positive that I've been thinking is suddenly flying out the window and I am becoming afraid of what will happen to me this term... perhaps I'm not ready to graduate even a term early after all, if I'm neurotic about these things right now. Deep breaths. It will be okay. It will all be okay...

Good old-fashioned lover boy.

I lied. I don't actually have a crush on Tobin; I always think I do when he's away, but I don't.

However, I know for a fact that my feelings for a certain Indian boy are getting stronger, and yet this awful quiz bowl love triangle is still in place. I don't want to break someone else's heart at the cost of my own happiness. That would be rude and mean and I like her a lot. At the same time, I know he can't love her the way he wishes he could, so I wish I could help her let go. It's all a bit tricky.

Still, space ice cream tomorrow!

Hard to concentrate.

This will be a post about boys and ~feelings,~ mostly because I'm trying to work out what to do next.

Basically, I have weird crushes on three boys. All crushes are very different from one another in ways that I shall explain right now...

Ram. I'll just admit it now, I do like him. He's become one of my closest friends and I can tell him pretty much anything and know that he's not judging me. I enjoy hanging out with him in lots of contexts, and I can't imagine life without being his friend, to be honest. We're both really awkward but we have great conversations. The only problem is, of course, the quiz bowl love triangle, which gets weirder by the day and makes me feel guilty for liking him when someone else feels more deeply, more passionately for him than I do. I wish I could make him happy. I think this is a crush of feelings, because we share a lot of them. I also don't know how we'd have a relationship, to be perfectly honest... but I'm sure we would make it work.

Jamie. This is my flail-y crush. This is the person who I hope to spot on campus every day, just out of wild hope, and then I get sad when I don't, although I should know better than to expect such. When we talked last Thursday, I basically fist-pumped the air the entire time and felt delirious and dizzy. I'm nervous for lunch on Monday, although I'm sure it will go fine. He's adorable and plays the mandolin really well and I want to get to know him better, but I have no idea where (or if) this could go, ever. He is 26. Why would he be interested in me?

And Tobin. This is my crush of souls, if that makes any sense. I haven't seen him since January (although I'm seeing him again tomorrow!!) and I don't find him particularly physically attractive. However, the way we go on and on when we talk--I've never quite met anybody like him. It's like we understand one another on a deeper level than either one of us ever expected. He actually messaged me the other day to say, "The more people I meet in this world, the more convinced I get that you're the only person who halfway understands and relates to me." And he's met a lot of people and been all over the world. I think we could have a successful relationship, but at the same time, I find it difficult to imagine myself with him in the sense of holding hands, going on dates, etc. etc. We'll see, I suppose.

Basically, I don't know what I'm doing, but RHCP are making me cry with beauty. I blame this entirely on Ram.

Tonight, not again.

I've blocked all posts from you in my Facebook feed. I don't need to see you rubbing it in my face on the internet.

I feel physically sick.

[-----]

Well, I always knew this day would come. The day you got a girlfriend that wasn't me. It's not like I thought that it would never happen and that we'd be together happily forever, because I know you and I know me, and I knew moreso this second time around that it wouldn't work out.

But really? You tried to hold onto me for so long and then, not even three weeks ago, said that you had to stop talking to me for a little while because "the keeping as a 'friend' clause is like getting a rusty stake in the heart. And if I see you with someone else, I'll probably lose it. At which case, I should probably leave," and that you still liked me. (Direct quotes.) To me, that implied that you really didn't want to see me with anyone else. But now it's okay for you to be with other people after you complained so much about setting me free?

I can't control you. I know I can't. Your life is your own, and I have no ownership or special rights over you. I don't want those. I'm just upset that you set up a double standard and became a hypocrite. I think that is the problem I have faced with you for so long: you'd say one thing and do another, and I always let you slide because of how much I liked you. It wasn't just with me, though. You did this with a lot of people, acting like their friend and then suddenly abandoning them, or being needy and then ignoring the help we tried to provide.

I'm sorry things didn't work out between us, and I wish you the best in your new ventures. I don't really know if I am feeling any real emotional pain about this; after all, it is what I wanted, to be free. It's not what you wanted. You need a girlfriend, someone willing to hold your hand in public and love you freely. I don't love anyone, and I couldn't love you the way you wanted me to, no matter how hard I tried.

I just don't know how I feel about anything involving you anymore.

When I drink.

Partyin' partyin', yeah?

The transfiguration.

I'm a little afraid of blogging these days, because it's lost me friends before. But it always has.

I am feeling happier and lighter than I have in a long time. I am free to live as I would like to live and no longer spend my nights sad and upset with myself, disgusted with my behaviour. And, thankfully, this summer does not appear to be going the route last summer went.

I miss my faraway family with every passing day, however, and wonder what the coming academic year holds.

Hold my heart.

I am sad and I am happy. I am, all at once, strung out and fearful on the mere thought of infinite failure, while retaining this bizarre, crazy hope for the future, that I will succeed.

So it goes, continually.

In bloom.

"I wanna know what you're thinking when you're lying in your bed late at night / trying to keep so still, my heart is pounding and it's trying just to keep up with the time... / for I am not yours / and you are not mine..."

Had this song circling round my mind for the last few days. I don't know quite how I feel, still. Some bits felt so right. But my problem is that not all of it felt right. There were so many things that made me feel uncomfortable that it's not even that they outweighed the good, but it really made me question whether my heart was in it. And it's not fair to string someone along, no matter how much you like them. So perhaps it is all my fault. I don't even know at this rate.

Anyway, this entry was mainly to say that I saw cute guy again yesterday. He left three books by his reading spot:
When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops? - George Carlin
This Side of Paradise - F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Complete Poems of John Keats
He also wrote a poem that he posted on Facebook earlier today. It's really good stuff.

Not that I want to date him date him, but I suppose this is my overarching point, however subtle or not: I've only ever been in one relationship. It's like looking at a piece of broccoli and not knowing what carrots are like. I don't want all boys to become broccoli to me, no matter how mean that sounds. I don't even know what I like besides broccoli, or how carrots will treat me, or if dating a cauliflower is the right thing for me. I do really like broccoli, but I really need to expand. Who knows? Perhaps broccoli is the best vegetable for me to fall in love with, but... there are others. I like lots of different vegetables.

That was the absolute worst analogy I have ever created, and I'm leaving it there.

Kick drum heart.

[In a much better mood...]

If you're not going to listen to me when I speak but listen to a memory instead, I guess that is really your loss. I explicitly stated what I wanted and what I didn't want several times, but I guess that doesn't really count.

It's your call on whether or not I'm worth keeping as a friend. I never intentionally meant to hurt you. I just wish that you had been a friend earlier and actually listened to what I wanted and needed. I feel like you've taken a lot out of me, and although you've tried to give it back, it's simply made me feel worse.

I'm sorry, but that doesn't mean I have to go back on all my feelings.

Super bass.

Evidently all I will ever be good for is hurting other people, unintentionally, through blogs or through my true ~feelings~. Perhaps it would be better for me to actually lie.

Thanks for making me feel guilty. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you and/or ignore you, but I thought I had made it clear that I was not interested in a relationship when I told you a month ago. No means no, not maybe later, not even in a little while. I remain confused because I don't know why you consider me so special, nor do I have a clue as to why you picked me. You resurfaced out of the blue into my life. Does that mean that I am supposed to do what you want me to do? I love you, but my feelings remain too convoluted for me to actually act upon them. (Split infinitive, don't care.)

This only confirms that I will never be able to last in a relationship more than six weeks. It makes me uncomfortable. Glad to know this.

(I'm just really moody now, so please ignore all this.)

She's got me dancing.

I feel better when I'm not worrying about you all the time. I'll take this as a sign that I made the right decision for my sanity. I still really like you, but trust me--if it were anything more, I'd be a nervous wreck all the time.

Also, X-Men: First Class was better the second time.

Neighbourhood #1 (tunnels).

I've got to stick up for myself more often.

I'm suffering from a minor case of writer's block, which is Not Good. On the bright side, this week has delivered some wonderful things...

- a random scholarship worth more than I ever dreamed it might be
- the opportunity to play an accordion
- X Men: First Class and a rad bromance
- a pretty top
- DOCTOR WHO OH MY GOD
- Belle & Sebastian's Dear Catastrophe Waitress and Barenaked Ladies Everything to Everyone

All in all, a solid haul.

The best day.

The things I must remember:

(1) If it's not working for one person, then it's not working for both people, and you fail at having a relationship.

(2) You got exactly what you wanted, Alex, so you have no reason to complain.

(3) If you were unhappy in a relationship and remain unhappy out of the relationship, it means that there is something wrong with YOU. You need to fix it so you can be happy out of a relationship and then happy in a relationship.

(4) You can't get possessive about someone who isn't yours.

(5) You can't seriously make a major decision like that and then change your mind so quickly. Now you're just being stupid, Alex.

(6) Your feelings are important and there is no right or wrong way to feel. Just don't be a fireball of emotion for *too* long.

(7) Ke$ha can only help with so much. The rest is up to you.

What do you do now, Alex?

I want you now.

Perhaps I have made a Huge Terrible Mistake.

Dancing with tears in my eyes.

[I love Ke$ha so much...]

It is somewhat unfortunate that my relationship with you has reached a stage where I dislike everything you do on principle. I simply do not wish to feel happy for you, ever. I know this is cruel and mean and heartless and a thousand other things, but after a year of knowing nearly every detail of your life, I am so glad to be set free that I never want to return. I dislike your blog, but I read it anyway, wondering if you will ever even mention the supposed impact I have had on your life--it might have been worth it if I really had meant something to you, I suppose, although this is simply me being needy and wanting to be wanted. I hate your short story that you posted, although I have written much worse. I cannot stand the way you approach the world.

I know you have had problems and I know you are probably learning to let go of those problems, but I am sorry... I cannot feel happy for you. Ever. I feel slightly nervous living in the same city as you these days, even if I do not see you. Perhaps you must have realised by now that I was not a friend worth keeping because I have not bothered to stay in touch, because of my passive-aggressive venting online, because I am much happier now that I no longer live with you. I remain a bad friend in this situation, and I can't entirely forgive myself for the way I've probably treated you. Nonetheless, I am so glad to be out.

On a sidenote, life continues.

[in reality I just enjoy feeling sorry for myself, enjoy this feeling of restraint where I forbid myself from doing what I would like to do, I keep it up keep it up keep it up all by myself]

Change.

(Taylor Swift kick goes into high gear. Ke$haylor Swiburt lives on in my "Cheerleaders Are People Too" song, which now has a chord progression.)

No matter what I do, I feel disappointed and somewhat empty. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. But everything makes me want to--I don't even know.

At least Colton and Dylan managed to cheer me up yesterday. Shopping was so much fun. Forever 21 is so huge! I'm getting afraid of turning older now, which is weird because I'm still so young, I suppose. But an eleven-year-old soprano prodigy I heard on NPR the other day put it perfectly. She said something to the effect of, "I'm afraid of becoming older because people will be less impressed by my singing ability when I am older than now, when I am younger." It was eerie how much her feelings echoed mine.

Welp. It could be worse. Really. A great deal worse.

Last sidenote: from Ram: "Stop being scared and start being awesome." That's pretty damn motivational coming from Ram, who normally doesn't really take these sorts of things "seriously." But he helped a lot the other night, and he said that he always has time to listen to me whinge even when I'm not really whingeing.

Blind.

I have listened to this song (by Ke$ha) at least sixteen times within the past two days. Majority of those plays (thirteen or so?) came yesterday. I sit in a back room at work, humming Taylor Swift songs interspersed with these Ke$ha-crazed moments. I think they should join together and create a mega electro-country superstar--Ke$haylor Swiburt, I think. Catchy. As Enrique Iglesias would say, "baby, I like it."

This is an entry to say nothing but the fact that I have been a moody teenager. I have sort of "broken up" with Seth, although we were never officially together so I have not really seen it as a break-up. It's been slightly dramatic and, if I am perfectly honest, I simply don't know how I feel about it. Half of me does, in fact, want to be his girlfriend, and I wish I could be there for him in the capacity that he desires. I do like him a lot (still). Having said this, the other half of me simply wishes he would get over his self-pitying stages (i.e. for the love of God please do not whine about how your friends have abandoned you on Facebook, specifically because you still have friends and because I have told you I still want to be your friend and hang out with you. He hasn't taken this news well and I must admit that I remain a little surprised by this fact, probably because I've never really broken up with someone who had an interest in me. My two previous "relationships" were the first time I went out with Seth (when he broke up with me) and, in high school, my awkward "thing" with Ryan that wasn't even a relationship. I told Tobin a few years ago that I wasn't interested, and he seemed very disappointed then--but I could understand that, because his was more like a massive massive crush, which is how he gets with girls. I've been there. But this feels different, and I'm not sure whether I'm comfortable with that or not.

Essentially, I know that I really just don't want a relationship now, if only because relationships make me feel awkward and I am too confused to be with somebody. I have cried, but it's my own doing. I understand none of it. However, I must admit that it's kind of nice to sprout a backbone. Although there is part of me that doesn't want to do this due to my emotional attachment, I know that it was something I needed to do. For the most part, I feel better for it, even though I sort of wish I didn't. Oh well. I suppose this is the way it goes.

I guess I just need time by myself now to figure out what I'm doing and what I want.

That's not my name.

Musical/spiritual guidance received over the past few days from:

Sufjan Stevens (solely from Illinois)*+&

The Ting-Tings (THAT'S NOT MY NAME THAT'S NOT MY NAME THAT'S NOT MY NAME THAT'S NOT MY -- NAME)^-

Taylor Swift+-&@

Ke$ha^-@

Anya Marina+-

Tristan Prettyman+-

Arcade Fire ("Neighbourhood #2, [Laika]")*&

Enrique Iglesias ("I Like It")^

Tinie Tempah

fun.*^

Anathallo*

*baroque pop

^pure, unadulterated pop

+have acoustic-y stuff

-female vocalists

&angst

@artists I probably should have outgrown or should feel more distaste for and yet I do not because I like them so much

Basically the music I've been listening to, as with my life, is a mess. But I'm sort of in love with all of this music. It's fantastic and I'm jamming out to "Great DJ" AND "You Belong with Me." It's reaching that point in summer where I think I'm going crazy or something, but that normally doesn't hit until the second month. I must be peaking early.

On the bright side, I got to see Colton and Ben earlier today! Never ever ever let's go twenty-three days without seeing one another again.

A little respect.

I have never felt so disappointed and disgusted and angry at myself as I have throughout the course of the past year or so. I thought it would go away now that summer has started... turns out that I keep destroying the things I care about.

It's summer. I shouldn't be so freaked out about everything, but today has been one miniature mental panic attack after another.

On a much happier sidenote, happy birthday Marcella!

Take me out.

Excellent night last night with the lovely Marcella and the lovely Trina!!!! It was wonderful to just hang out with girls for once and I feel very happy now.

On a rather amusing sidenote, there's this kid who goes to St. X that I know through my dad's company (he's the son of one of the ladies who works there). I've only met him twice, but the last time I saw him (September?) we discussed films, because he makes his own stuff and he loves Wes Anderson as well. (I don't know how people don't love Wes Anderson, but that's just me.) Anyway, so my parents saw him again last night and it turns out that I was his first choice for a prom date, because "all the other girls I know are really giggly and at least I have something in common with her." Huh! And I would have gone with him, too! He's really cool and loads better than most eighteen-year-old boys I know (or have known). And I was never even anyone's first choice as a prom date when I was in high school, because I had to ask Ryan to mine because he was a junior. And that was just an Awkward Thing in general.

Very amusing. Ho hum.

Like a G6.

Music I have been listening to as of late:

KE$HA ALL THE TIME
Fleet Foxes (both albums)

"Like a G6" - Far East Movement

"Falling Down" - Selena Gomez & the Scene

"Kissin U" - Miranda Cosgrove

Dog Problems - The Format

even more Ke$ha

"What the Hell" - Avril Lavigne

Adele

Ellie Goulding

Sufjan Stevens

Ke$ha (again)

NOTHING ON THIS LIST MAKES SENSE WHEN PUT TOGETHER but I really like 808 drum machines I guess

also I still have no idea what I'm doing, floundering a bit more than usual, but at least I maintained a 4.0 and my cumulative GPA is now 3.97 almost?

Guilty.

One of my male friends from high school just notified me that he'd lost his virginity over the weekend. I don't know what's weirder:

1) this notion that he's had sex when I still remember how he was at age 13 and making fun of me in art class

2) the fact that he told me

3) the fact that I'm the first girl he has told

4) the fact that I'm not actually that surprised, because it's not like this is really the first time anyone has mentioned it to me

Apparently I occupy this weird position in the bro code where I'm occasionally a female but occasionally not, so I remain a bit confused as to whether or not I am supposed to follow it. Oh well. So it goes? I dunno, it just strikes me as all being very weird. And it only just reminds me how not-ready I am for any of that.

In the sun.

I don't know what I am doing. I don't know anything that I am doing, what I want to do, how to go about it; everything seems to be in a muddle.

Perhaps I need a bit more help sussing these things out than I initially thought I needed.

Speak now.

I really like Taylor Swift, and I'm surprised by how good her third album is. Her voice still needs a little work, and it is a shame that her lyrics have not really left high school, but damn! Her music is still good.

Me and the major.

[an attempt at a poem, it's really lousy, because I don't actually know what I'm doing]

I am swimming through grass

because the rain keeps pouring

and it feels like whisky on my skin

it burns, it's orange, it's awful

I live in Atlantis on days like this

I miss the sun, Scotland, I miss

milky tea that I made for someone else

I'm always swimming these days

socks wetter than shoes

(was that even possible?)

like I was five again, only a kid

jumping in puddles with a yellow umbrella

covered in cat hairs

being a mermaid

and it's not even that it was a simpler time

it was that I could breathe then

I would go into my dreams and re-emerge

just in time to go downstairs and eat

mashed potatoes and cold brussel sprouts

(which taste like feet, still)

but that was the point, I would always

resurface, air like a cold slap on my face,

gasping, gasping, sighing

now all I do is swim in this ocean so blue

whether the sky is grey or cool

it doesn't actually matter, I keep swimming

anyway, it just happens

there are pinpricks of light somewhere submerged

they may be jellyfish or birds of the sea

but I swim toward them, legs kicking arms fast webbed feet

some lame movie soundtrack layered above me

and then the net comes and I'm tuna

well guess what, I'm going to fight it

so I kick upward again

faster now

legs are scissors and I have my sisters to find

and suddenly I'm tangled, a mess of kelp and hair

my thoughts get scattered everywhere

turns out the net was never even there

just a dolphin passing by, reading my mind

and so I swim toward the light again

all the while forgetting that sometimes

I need sunlight

I need air

sometimes forgetting

how to live up there

how does one live up in the green?

Roll away your stone.

So the Sabres are out of the playoffs.

... there may have been a few tears.

I apply heavy makeup each night so I might pretend that I am pretty and glamorous, so I can pretend to party like Kesha. Then I sit down at the computer and realise I have no idea what the hell I am doing.

It continues.

Nothing feels right. (And the most pathetic person in the world title goes to...)

Sometimes I wonder if my entire life is a dream. Sometimes, I really hope it is, so I can wake up and be truly happy again. The secret that I told at the PostSecret event was wrong. I thought it was my secret, because it meant acknowledging that I had been sad. But I am still sad. Perhaps I will stop feeling sad when school is over--but sometimes, I have Bad Thoughts once again and I feel myself spiralling once more. I have no reason to feel this way, and yet I continue to do so. I remain baffled. Perhaps I am just in love with self-pity, self-absorption mixed with pain as some kind of tragic figure. I fear that is how people see me. I have good days, and I have bad days, but there seems to be this overwhelming fear of being okay. In the past week, I have walked out of two social situations very rapidly because I was suddenly overcome with a need to be alone, a need to not talk to anybody in the room. Both times were really frightening. I know I live here, but sometimes, I still do not feel like I belong.

It will get better. I know it will get better. I'm just being stupid right now, really.

When it rains.

Remember all that writing I had to do?

12-15 page paper for Civil War lit that I have yet to really start working on [11-page draft complete and it didn't completely suck!]

5 page paper on women in the reformation [5 pages, got an A on it]

8-10 page paper for my sixties class that I haven't started researching yet [11 pages regarding alienation]

6-10 page paper for novels course, involving a book I don't like probably [8 pages of drivel regarding Room and Never Let Me Go and how the authors build horror slowly]

(1-2 page response to The Road)

5-6 (single-spaced, which means 10-12 normal) page essay about reason & emotion in Lady Audley's Secret [actually quite proud of this one, 6 single-spaced pages]

8-10 page final draft of my Arcade Fire/The Graduate paper, which would have been done by now if I had used The Graduate in the first place instead ofAtonement; thus heavy revision is needed [11 pages and done AHEAD OF SCHEDULE!]

4 page take-home exam for sixties course

4-6 page take-home exam for 509

5~ page take-home for Civil War Lit

revise Civil War Lit essay, study for exam

FOR A TOTAL OF 58-72 PAGES DUE BY THE END OF THE MONTH. [60 double-spaced pages written so far... 54 if I don't expand my Victorian Lit essay]

The end is in sight!

Wide eyes.

Success! 304 paper and 546 papers are, for the most part, DONE! Only one paper left to write today, and that's only six pages, double-spaced (much shorter than six pages single-spaced).

Kind of proud of myself right now.

Thin blue flame (acoustic).

Lookit me, specifying whether or not a recording is acoustic or not.

Today was sort of interesting. Running on four hours of sleep, read for forEVER at a quiz bowl tournament today. The kids are fun--there was an absolutely adorable girl on Mercy's team who had a Carey Mulligan haircut and kept getting lit questions, I sort of wanted to ask her out for coffee to talk to her a little bit, just in a wild fantasy sort of dream--but my god, some of these coaches are worse than overbearing parents. One wouldn't believe me when I explained the rules of the tiebreak and asked to see an official rules sheet. It was fine afterwards, but what I had in front of me was a standard NAQT scoresheet, complete with instructions for a tiebreak. I wasn't doing anything it did not tell me to do. Bleh. Oh well. My vocal chords hurt, but I really should be writing papers now.

Her name is Emma. What a lovely, lovely name. If I ever have children, my first child will be Elizabeth. My second will be Emma. And then people will think that I just keep stealing names from Jane Austen and I'll be like NOOOOOO DUDE I'VE LIKED THESE NAMES SINCE I WAS FIVE. Alternatively, I'll just name characters after them. I've already named a character after Elizabeth... and look at how that turned out. Oh dear. Oh well! I won't do that to any future person I know. Immortalise them as Emma in a story. Emma will just be fictional. She'll be like Marianne. Marianne doesn't exist.

(Alternatively, my first child will be Elisabeth, in honour of Elisabeth Sladen, the Ultimate Who-Girl.)

My night is being spent with Hunter S. Thompson, Kurt Vonnegut, books of literary criticism that appear to have never been opened before, a strict diet of Josh Ritter/Local Natives/Nick Drake/Mumford & Sons, and the prospect of several cups of tea. No hockey tonight. Just rain and darkness outside. How peaceful, I suppose.

Severe writers' block is killing me.

Blue ridge mountains.

I did something really silly tonight, but I fear I might do it again.

So it goes.

Girl in the war.

SABRES WIN 1-0

I KICKED GENERAL ASS TODAY

lots of good happy things

life is somewhat spectacular

I remain surprised.

Get me away from here, I'm dying.

If You're Feeling Sinister has become the soundtrack of this week. I've listened to it about seven times between yesterday and today. That number is going to go up as I sit here and write papers about Lady Audley, outsiders in the sixties, and ostrananie (a concept I have forgotten for AGES) in Room and Never Let Me Go.

I can do this. I can do this.

(So if you're feeling sinister, go on and see a minister...)

Southern pacifica.

My roommate came to the following conclusion today: when the White Rabbit screams that he is late, he is not saying it "with glee or excitement."

And I don't mean to make her sound like a dunce, but... duh? I dunno, I've always assumed that it's sort of a bad thing when people say that they're late--and judging by the way that white rabbit runs everywhere, it never seems like he's particularly happy about it.

Still, maybe it's one of those Realisations that one has, such as my Realisation that Juliet begins with a J. Ho hum.

The stars of track and field.

I've come up with a list of albums that have really influenced me as a person, either in recent years or in the past. This is by no means definitive, but rather, it's something I've wanted to do for a little while.

In chronological order, really...

1. 7 - S Club 7 (I need something from my youth on there)
2. Let Go - Avril Lavigne
3. The Essential Simon & Garfunkel - Simon & Garfunkel
4. Meteora - Linkin Park
5. A Rush of Blood to the Head - Coldplay
6. Mr. A-Z - Jason Mraz
7. Let There Be Morning - the Perishers
8. Drive - Bic Runga
9. Waiting for My Rocket to Come - Jason Mraz
10. Let Love In - the Goo Goo Dolls
11. Twentythree - Tristan Prettyman
12. Whatever People Say That I Am, That's What I'm Not - Arctic Monkeys
13. Hello - Tristan Prettyman
14. We Sing. We Dance. We Steal Things - Jason Mraz
15. The mix CD that Jiyoon made me that we intended to use for the Masterminds picnic but we never did
16. Town of Trees EP - Dawn Mitschele
17. Pretty much every mix CD Tobin has ever made me
18. You Could Have It So Much Better - Franz Ferdinand
19. Lights - Ellie Goulding
20. The Suburbs - Arcade Fire
21. Funeral - Arcade Fire (*) The album that made me fall in love with albums
22. So Runs the World Away - Josh Ritter
23. The Animal Years - Josh Ritter

List: much weirder than I intended; also, a lot shorter than I thought it would be.

Wolves.

Well, today has been weird. Brynn's grandfather passed away earlier today; I was initially planning on hanging out with some other people tonight, but instead we got dinner and watched (500) Days of Summer and a bunch of cute animal videos. I sort of wish that I had had somebody my own age to hang out this summer when stuff liked this happened--not that I'm saying that my family isn't/wasn't supportive, because they were, but I hate being the absolute youngest in my family. The closest-aged person I got to see while in England was my cousin Alison (who is WONDERFUL), and she is twenty-nine. Maybe thirty now. I think her birthday is this month. And while I love my family, it still feels weird being at least ten years younger than everybody else. Oh well.

I would like to think that I helped her feel better somewhat. I felt better, too. It's been a while since I've had some real girl-bonding time, and it made me feel sane. I'm really glad I'll be rooming with her next year, and I'm really glad that I know her in general. Just goes to show that not everyone I met at orientation is crazy! (Hmm, perhaps a bit mean, but you know what I mean. I still like thinking back on the first night we met, the pictures of us with blue lips and blue tongues, and thinking, I really want to be friends with this girl. I girlcrush so easily, haha.)

Speaking of girlcrushing, Colton keeps describing me as proto-lesbian, which I would say is fairly accurate. It's not like I am changing my sexual identity or anything, but I get such girlcrushes so bad! I saw Lauren earlier today and I wished I could have said more to her because she's so wonderful and amazing and I love hanging out with her but I didn't, so Colton said stuff instead (they used to be really close) and she smiled and she's really gorgeous, she's so wonderful, and I really wish I could be closer with her because she is so amazing but alas, I cannot. I can blame her for my love of Josh Ritter, haha.

So it goes, so it goes, so it goes.

Must write a paper or two tomorrow. We'll see about this.

[Sabres vs. Flyers, Game 1, 1-0 Buffalo]

First of all: KALETA JUST SCORED!!!!! AND I JUST SCREAMED REALLY HIGH-PITCHED-LY AND STUFF AND IT WAS WONDERFUL AND AHHHHH I LOVE THIS TEAM

(may or may not have sniffled a bit)

Anyway, just had a bit of a weird conversation with A, where she was saying "I don't think the universe has a perfect match for me, ever."

1) YOU'RE NINETEEN. I know I have said similar statements in the past, but THERE IS STILL TIME. STILL FUCKING TIME. You can't possibly write yourself off at this point.

2) You've had guys chasing after you since you got to college. You had a boyfriend for x amount of time, much longer than I had.

3) You claim not to believe in God, that you're an atheist, and yet you're talking about "the universe" as producing a mate for you? What about free will? You can choose these sorts of things, to a certain extent. Yes, the universe makes some stuff happen, and some of it is really awful shit. But you can make some wonderful stuff happen yourself.

[4) Please stop sitting on my bed, please stop touching my hair, less than a month, less than a month, less than a month.]

5) oh god Philadelphia please don't score

6) I know that I have made this claim before (I know I've already said that, but it's worth stating that again), but in all honesty it sounds kind of like a whine for attention. "The universe hasn't given me anything, even though I keep giving and giving." Well, then. Wait a little bit longer. Just because you haven't found a substantial boyfriend within the first nineteen years of your life doesn't mean that the next nineteen will ultimately suck, unless you keep taking this attitude.

Sometimes I have warm feelings towards you, and sometimes I hate you beyond all rational constraints. Well, okay, maybe not hate, but dislike. It might be leaning towards the "dislike" portion right now, for some reason. Please just shut up shut up shut up shut up.

Roscoe.

I think I just wrote a 1,000-word rant at myself to attempt to prove that I'm not insane but I'm not sure it's working.

Come back to bed.

Current thoughts:

- papers will kill me

- random scholarship! yay?

- I miss far too many people

- I have not been productive enough

- I am hungry (and I feel incredibly lazy)

- Arcade Fire is wonderful

- have rediscovered love of Tristan Prettyman (Hello is my first real Louisville Album, it was the first thing I bought at ear X-tacy when I was sixteen and reminds me of this week three years ago for very specific reasons, along with the Lotion of Death that I once had but is now long gone, unfortunately)

- currently six books about Civil War literature sitting next to me like a totem pole but worse, maybe

- I hope she comes back late

- stuff between C & ? got a bit whoaaaaaaaaa even if ? says he was okay with it

- I can't even

- CAREY MULLIGAN IS DATING MARCUS MUMFORD (how appropriate, "Thistle & Weeds" just came on shuffle) AND HOLY MOTHER OF THE GODS THEY ARE REAL CUTE

- Sabres made the playoffs!!! I want it to be Thursday already so I may sit at my computer screaming LET'S GO BUFFALO

- The Road is written in a wonderful way but I can't read it for long periods of time, it is far too sad

- too much work to do, why are you still on the internet, DISCONNECT THE CORD AND SHUT IT ALL DOWWNNNNNNN

- when will they announce the results of the Creative Writing scholarship? I really want to know, need to know, I'm so frantic for knowledge, even though I handed in my application what two, two and a half weeks ago? nearly three? fuck that shit

- newest issue of the White Squirrel has really nice binding! and oh god I will be reading tomorrow, oh man oh god oh man oh god

- I miss Jiyoon

- tempted to go back to Buffalo while Josh Ritter is there

- I don't know what I'm doing anymore

- I really don't know

sometimes I feel slightly more lost than ever, I always remember the good days and I always remember the bad days but I can never quite figure out how to piece them all together, they sit there like a patchwork quilt of guilt on the ground, a shameless rhyme but there it is, and all I can think of is how they sit together and fit together but I can't put them together myself, yet there they are, so it goes, so it goes, so it goes (I hate Vonnegut, even if he anchored his novels with wonderful phrases)

it is still light outside and nothing feels real, ever

We are golden.

all my poetry is bad

all my thoughts are strange

my mind does not agree

with my body

my soul remains confused

I want to hit you

I want to do bad things

I hate the way you write

your sentences grate upon my nerves

there are two of you

you are not so high and mighty

and you

oh you

I have read your work and it is awful

I am sorry, I know this is cruel

I know I am supposed to like it

but I have never cared much for it

then again I do not care for my own work

SO WHO AM I TO JUDGE

I am always overcome with the fear

at this time of night that

things will not end well for my writing career

and then I stop using proper syntax and lapse into

falsely poetical lines

or attempt to give the illusion of poetry

but it's really because I do not want to look at sentences any more

bitches what up

The fall.

I don't know where I am going in my life, what I am doing, and I don't know how I am going to churn out the amount of writing required in the next month:

12-15 page paper for Civil War lit that I have yet to really start working on [11-page draft complete and it didn't completely suck!]

5 page paper on women in the reformation [5 pages, got an A on it]

8-10 page paper for my sixties class that I haven't started researching yet [11 pages regarding alienation]

6-10 page paper for novels course, involving a book I don't like probably [8 pages of drivel regarding Room and Never Let Me Go and how the authors build horror slowly]

(1-2 page response to The Road)

5-6 (single-spaced, which means 10-12 normal) page essay about reason & emotion in Lady Audley's Secret [actually quite proud of this one, 6 single-spaced pages]

8-10 page final draft of my Arcade Fire/The Graduate paper, which would have been done by now if I had used The Graduate in the first place instead of Atonement; thus heavy revision is needed [11 pages and done AHEAD OF SCHEDULE!]

4 page take-home exam for sixties course

4-6 page take-home exam for 509

5~ page take-home for Civil War Lit

revise Civil War Lit essay, study for exam

FOR A TOTAL OF...

58-72 PAGES DUE BY THE END OF THE MONTH. [60 double-spaced pages written so far, 26 April... 54 if I don't expand my Victorian Lit essay]

This is not meant to be a complaint, actually, but rather a reminder to myself of all the work I have yet to do. Get on it, Alex. Go go go go go.

The predatory wasp of the Palisades is out to get us.

So I went to a PostSecret event and told a secret at the microphone. It was... weird. I am not sure what I expected from the experience, but it was weird. I sort of shook like mad as I stood in line for the microphone, not knowing what the hell I was doing up there, much less if my secret was anything serious or worth sharing. And then when I said it, I sort of began to cry in front of a room full of strangers (and a few friends hidden in the mix).

I said that my secret is that I am happy, and I didn't think I would be happy, and that writing has saved me. And it is true. For a long, long time I have struggled with the idea that I might never be happy. But I have also learned that it gets better, and that everything I have experienced has made me become a stronger, better person. And I am happy that way. Of course, I didn't get to say all of this at the microphone--I just said the first bit, that I am happy and that writing has saved me, and then walked away--but it feels a bit weird because I think the secret that I revealed by saying that I am happy is that there was a time where I was not happy.

And now I feel kind of wonderful, actually.

Frank Warren signed my notebook where I keep all my secrets.

The man of metropolis steals our hearts.

This is... weird. I have been oddly productive today. It is currently 6:31, and I sit nearly 500 words into a paper that is only meant to be a page and a half to two pages single-spaced. I'm getting there.

Also, I might have just decided on the spur of the moment to go to PostSecret tonight. Yeah, I'm going. Cool. Glad that's sorted now.

Your song.

Just watched A Single Man for the first time in a year; listening to Moulin Rouge! to cheer me up. Didn't cry quite as much as I had the first time I watched it last year, but I still cried, even though I knew the end was coming. It was not the frantic crying of last time probably because they remained characters. Last year, I saw so many people I knew within the characters--their situations, their feelings, even their mannerisms--but this time around, they stayed in the film. Not that this is a bad thing; I'm not sure if I could have handled it if they became too real once more.

Today marks the three-year anniversary of _____'s dad's death. I think of her all the time, think of that day, how it was the only day I saw her cry--think of how I went over to her house every day that week--how I felt like I was swimming, too, all that week. Nothing made sense. And I wondered, is that how you really felt? Were you swimming, too?

I've always thought of her on this date but I never know whether or not to send her a little note, if only because she never mentioned it in that context, ever. But I won't forget, can't forget that day.

How odd it is that snippets of the past seem to linger.

Kathleen (intro).

The line "all the other girls here are stars, you are the northern lights" fades in and out of my mind. (I know that I've used "Kathleen" before, but it's currently the intro on my CD, and thus I may reference it once more. Also, it's a different version.)

I especially like the lines "every heart is a package tangled up in knots someone else tied" and "both our hearts have a secret only both of us know." I don't quite know why--I've never considered myself a romantic of any major variety--but this song gets me every time. Maybe it's because it reminds me of so many things, or the way he sings it live. I know that Kathleen is probably floating around somewhere, being gorgeous no matter where, and her name remains on people's lips due to this gorgeous, gorgeous song.

What can I say? I really like Josh Ritter. Okay, LOVE Josh Ritter. No use pretending to be half-hearted about it.

---

On a sidenote, it is weird having somebody tell you that they are "fanboy"-ing over a letter you wrote them. PLEASE STOP. I AM NOT THAT INTERESTING AND IT'S CREEPY TO HEAR YOU USE THE TERM "FANBOY" IN REFERENCE TO A FRIEND. (I shouldn't have written that last sentence in caps, but I'm too lazy to make it non-caps.) But it is very surreal having somebody say, "I fanboyed over reading your letter." There is a difference between fangirling (or fanboy-ing) over someone who will never know you exist, i.e. Jason Mraz/Josh Ritter/the Doctor. But to say that to someone you know, especially someone you want to get to know better--I'm sorry, I'm just not buying that. It is creepy.

A dustland fairytale.

(Something that isn't Josh Ritter or Arcade Fire for once.)

My weekend was... interesting, to say the least. That pause isn't meant to say that it wasn't, because it totally was. I didn't see anything that happened coming, to say the least. It's just going to be a bit stranger in my life for the next few weeks.

I suppose the Biggest Thing that happened is that Seth and I are sort of going out again. But we're not doing it officially or formally, in part because (a) I can't handle a formal relationship at the moment and (b) A is in the back of my mind, sort of guilting me over it. I know that she shouldn't, and what I do with my life is my decision and not hers, I'm not sure how well it would go over. And I think there would be a few unpleasant arguments. If she hadn't told me her feelings for him, or if I didn't live with her, then I think we'd be doing it more openly. As it stands, however, it's a very bizarre triangle. The way she put it so long ago, it really sounded like they had a thing going; however, there was definitely some miscommunication somewhere. Oh dear.

So it feels a bit weird but at the same time, it's kind of nice. I know that I'm not the idiot I was last time. I am happy, but I'm not the "oh look at me I HAVE A BOYFRIEND" kind of happy I was the first time around. We are friends, we go out, we can make one another smile. That is all. That's what it should be, anyway. And I don't feel pressure like I did the first time around; not that there was much pressure, but I was underneath the label of "girlfriend" as in "oh, god, I have to act in x way." I'm not doing that this time. I've got my own life, he's got his, and we will hang out whenever we can. I won't push around all my plans for him, but if it works, then it works. If it doesn't, well--at least we tried. I think I'm a lot calmer this time around, too.

This would be a lot easier if there wasn't the guy from one of my courses who may or may not be trying to ask me out. He's been asking me if I want to do stuff with him a lot recently, texting me quite a bit, and while I enjoy the conversation it makes me a bit uncomfortable. Also, I don't like using so much money to text. It's a bit awkward. Not to mention Awk-Ant-The-Guy, who keeps asking me if we can hang out. He's nice, I suppose, and he does mean well, but he makes me feel so guilty. The way he approaches friendship is a bit weird. And then I think he may or may not have attempted to apply the first line of "Kathleen" at me last week, which was... a bit disconcerting. At the same time, I don't actually know whether he's just trying to be nice, so I don't want to prematurely call him out on it by saying, "I'm sorry, I don't like you that way." I just wish he would back off a bit and give me some space. I feel obligated to hang out with him rather than actually wanting to hang out with him. It is quite odd.

I've been offered the opportunity to write for the Cardinal. I'm not sure what I would write, or if I have the time to take it up at the moment--but it would be nice. And I'd get paid. My editorials would just be on a page with other people's stuff who I disagree with. (At least two of them write editorials or have attitudes in their editorials that I find really irritating, Miss "Covers Don't Deserve Awards Ever" and AATG, whose writing style doesn't strike me as being all that strong.)

Something I've written will be published in The White Squirrel soon. I don't know whether it will be the poem, the story, or both, but I got an email from one of the editors today asking me what name I would prefer to be printed as. So that was a bit of a nice surprise. Now to see what got in!

I submitted my application for the departmental creative writing scholarship last Friday, with "Laika," "Words' Worth," and "The Blue Danube." I hope I can get something. It would be kind of wonderful if I did! Well, not just kind of wonderful, but I think it would sort of help my self-esteem more than I'd like to (actively) acknowledge, to have an outside committee tell me that my work is decent enough for some scholarship money. If I don't--oh well. I suppose there are scholarships in the future that I can learn to polish my material for.

I need to get back to my Arcade Fire paper. And I need to get out of my room. I haven't had any human-to-human contact today. It's been a bit lonely, but I needed a day to myself. I might not have been quite as productive as I wanted to be, but at least I feel better about myself.

Still beating.

Oh, so this is vaguely awkward.

My roommate "broke up" with her mother. They've been having fights about pretty much everything recently, but then she and her mother started emailing. From what I can tell, she emailed her mother saying "we should take a break for a while, I don't know how long that is, blah blah blah," and her mother replied back with something along the lines of "I have no idea who you are now, you're ungrateful and selfish etc etc" and then she cried a lot and I hugged her.

I feel really bad but I have no idea what the hell to do in such a situation. I've never fought with my mother so much, and I didn't want to say the wrong thing lest she take it the wrong way. I'm sorry she's having issues with her mother, but I can't fix it for her. I can't do anything. I really think they need to avoid each other for a little while and then talk--face to face, not through email, not through phone, and with someone else present. But I don't know how to say that without her getting angry at me.

I am sorry she has problems with her mother--they make mine feel so insignificant and inconsequential. I might not like her as much as I should, but she's really not so bad these days, and I certainly wouldn't actively wish something like this upon her. (Who thinks to themselves, "I hope you and your mother come this close to ending your relationship with one another while you are still nineteen?" I'd like to think that I do not.) But I simply don't know what to say.

Monster ballads.

I can't have a relationship with you.

I just can't.

Not with you, not with anyone, actually. "It's only a change of time." But I'm a different person now, and--well, I'm not even sure if that's what you want from me.

But I can't.

Man burning.

(The return of the Josh Ritter obsession: today, Hello Starling has grabbed hold of my ears, and I haven't been able to get "Baby That's Not All" out of my head. I'm a bit worried about my sanity, given all the unintentional fangirling I have done over Josh Ritter recently, but--I don't even care at this point. He's too damn good.)

Things accomplished:

- submitted things to the White Squirrel

- proposal in for Civil War

Things left to do:

- cover letter for Creative Writing Scholarship (due by 4:00 PM tomorrow)

- worksheet for Vict. lit. (which means READING ARTICLES)

- other scholarship essays (200 words each, at least)

- ARCADE FIRE PAPER NEEDS WRITING, YOU ALSO NEED TO PREPARE YOUR PRESENTATION

- read His Illegal Self

- it might be nice if you finished reading Affinity at some point

- researching alla mah papers

- STOP OBSESSING OVER JOSH RITTER

- stop going out so much, you could be more productive

- stop spending money

- must needs buy: The Feminine Mystique, Fear & Loathing, probably get them both for Kindle

- be happy on your own

- figure out your feelings

- don't let her get you down

- tell him

Our own pretty ways.

(Look, something that isn't Josh Ritter!)

I actually have no idea what I am doing for this paper--I need to read sources that my professor has taken out from the library. Le sigh.

The curse.

Josh Ritter was so amazing... and might actually be my favourite musician now, if he wasn't already. I feel vaguely guilty over this, because I sort of wonder how Jason Mraz will feel, silly as that sounds. I've loved him for six years, but I've felt myself falling in love with Josh Ritter's songs even more than I can remember falling in love with Jason's stuff. I listen to Josh Ritter's albums on repeat. I can't listen to Mraz albums as albums anymore. It's sort of a shame, but I think I've killed a lot of his music by overplaying when I was younger.

Jason Mraz will always, always have a place in my heart. But I'm discovering new things and musicians at the moment. I think it's good that we've had a break. Although I sometimes fear that I'll go back to his music and begin to hate it, I don't regret all that Mraz has given me so far. I am growing, I am growing, I am growing. That is all for now.

P.S. "The Curse" made me cry. It was like this version but even better, if you can imagine. I swear, I've never heard any venue go quite so quiet--no, silent. It was like hearing it for the first time. And that's what I'll always remember.

Lillian, Egypt.

I SEE JOSH RITTER TONIGHT

JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER

JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER

JOSH RITTER

I'm bringing my copy of The Animal Years so if he hugs me he might sign it. IF HE HUGS ME? HE GIVES OUT HUGS AFTER SHOWS AJFLASFJHASJHKGJHSKLDJ

This might be the highlight of my break.

Month of May.

Well.

Where do we go from here?

The well and the lighthouse.

I don't understand... why are you being so nice to me?

Another new world.

(Oh look, my Josh Ritter craze is simply never-ending.)

A collection of thoughts:

- Why do you want to go dancing with me? Why do you keep asking me? I don't know whether you keep asking me as a friend or because you want "something more." I'm really not that thrilling.

- I loved every moment of Saturday; it made me feel pretty wonderful. Alive, I guess. I'm really glad we're friends.

- The Elegance of the Hedgehog is quite a wonderful little French book, full of philosophical essay-ish things told by two exceedingly strange characters. Books written by philosophy professors are always a bit weird.

- Why why why why why why why why why why why is this my life?

Rainslicker.

Two papers down, two to go.

... unfortunately the "two to go" are supposed to be longer and will probably be around six pages each. Or something. Har har har. I can feel my wrists aching already.

Right moves.

All my complaints are so very silly. There are bigger things in life that I should worry about.

Roll with the wind.

Earlier today, I was talking to Ben when I was overcome with this feeling of absolute horror and sadness. I don't particularly know why this happened, but I couldn't say anything, because I knew that if I did, I would end up crying. I've been a bit mopey all night and I can't figure out why; perhaps it was the realisation that I have felt so neutral as of late, that my life seems little more than some bizarre never-ending dream that I live. I know that I am content with my situation and station in life, having never dealt with many hardships that have affected me in adverse ways continuing up until this day, my nineteen years and one day of life. And yet--it's not even malcontent with my situation, but the creeping horror of age that I thought only older people got, the sort of feeling you get when you're forty and you realise half your life (and your hair) has gone.

I don't know what it is, and I don't actually want to know. Nevertheless, this remains a bizarre way to begin my nineteenth year. It can only get better, bigger, brighter--it can shine off into the distance stars in space. I want to make it glow, so this time next year, I can say, "Yes, being nineteen was a rather wonderful stage of my life. I liked it far more than I ever dreamed I would. Once, I thought it an ugly number, but now, it stands as one of my proudest moments, being nineteen, you know?"

Or maybe it will just be... I don't even know. I'm going to go read Lady Audley's Secret and listen to music that is NOT Jason Mraz, who I oddly cannot seem to listen to these days. How the times have changed.

The temptation of Adam.

Wonderful birthday day today. My parents helped restore my sanity, and the Sabres won their first post-trade game. I am now okay with being nineteen. It is a vaguely frightening number, but I shall make the best of it.

Also woth noting that blogging on a Kindle is an odd experience and is not exactly easy. Still, it is fun!

The remnant.

Verdict on today:

Much, much, much better--physically, mentally, emotionally--than yesterday. Even though I'm still working on these damned essays.

I feel pretty good right now.

Next to the last romantic.

Good things: King's Speech!!!!!!, seeing Marcella and receiving my wonderful gift of the Bronte sisters, hand-writing an essay so I only have to type it up tomorrow, Shaun of the Dead, e-card from Glyn, Josh Ritter.

Bad things: Amanda being upset for an hour and a half, not actually being able to watch the Oscars, feeling kind of awful (physically), not doing as much homework as I should've, being kind of lame and unhelpful.

Half an hour before the first half of my birthday--whoops, more like fifteen minutes at this point--and I've suddenly realised I no longer want a birthday. I don't want to turn nineteen. Nineteen has always struck me as being a bit of an ugly number--I like nines, but I don't like nineteens. Hopefully being nineteen will be better than being eighteen, and hopefully I'll continue to grow and become a better person.

I wish my head would stop hurting. Hopefully, tomorrow will be nice. Seeing Ben and Marcella was nice today--it felt like what I needed. Perhaps some structure will make me happier, and make this damned midterm easier to finish.

Lovesick.

Weird realisation of the day:

I figured out the password to one of my friend's Facebook accounts three or four years ago. I used to log into her account and--well, I wouldn't really poke around, not intentionally; I'd just see what it felt like to be her, to have her Facebook page instead of mine. Which probably sounds kind of weird, but it was an interesting experience.

Anyway. I may or may not have just logged into her account again, for no particular reason other than to see whether or not my birthday popped up under the "events" calendar. (Someone else posted on my Facebook that Facebook said my birthday was on the 31st of December, i.e. the last day of February, and that I was turning eleven. So I was a bit curious if it was just his phone that said that or if it was on all my friends' Facebooks.) And I looked under her messages, not really to see what they were about or anything, but... I don't know why, actually.

To get to the point of the story: it looked like she'd done a lot of clearing out of her inbox, getting rid of old messages between mutual friends, or the stuff that clubs might send out--but she kept a lot of stuff from between us, even stupid stuff, like, "I think Ryan likes me!!! halp halp what do I do" from my fifteen-year-old self. And I think I realised today that I'll always be friends with this person, or even if not "friends-friends" then at least we'll still keep in touch about stuff. When I saw her this summer, catching up with her was wonderful. She even took a day off work to just hang out with me. When I contrast her behaviour with that of Marie--well, I don't even know how Marie feels about me these days, and I don't really think I care terribly much.

Still, it was a nice sort of feeling to have, no matter how creepy or morally questionable I might seem at the moment. I'm glad I'm friends with her, no matter how angry I might have been with her in the past. The fact that I (publicly) berated her about the stupidest stuff and cast her as the villain in my novel--well, I thought at the time that it might have permanently destroyed our relationship. But she forgave me for all my offenses, and we are still friends.

A very strange musing of the day.

Salvation song.

I'm on tumblr now, and there is a girl I follow because my friend sort of advertised my blog and she started following me. She is obsessed with the Mighty Boosh and specifically Noel Fielding, which I don't really find a problem--except that everything she posts is related to this guy. EVERYTHING. He was apparently on some dancing competition last night or something, and her posts are all about how she cried for half an hour and became nearly hysterical about his performance. (For the record: he did a number to Kate Bush's "Wuthering Heights," in the same sort of red dress. And it was actually quite good, even if I'm not a rabid fan of the guy.)

Still, it strikes me as being a bit creepy--like, what would this guy think if he ever found this site? And then I think about my own fandoms. I don't mean to judge this girl--I really don't, because I have my own fandoms that make me ridiculously happy--but I'm beginning to look at what I love a bit more critically. Sure, I loved Jason Mraz with the firey power of ten thousand suns, and I still love his music because he's extremely talented; however, I no longer dedicate my life to listening to, blogging about, and internet-stalking Jason Mraz. The way I once behaved about him was a bit childish, although I have no regrets. His music has been a big part of my life, and I will never forget any of his songs. However, I'm growing (or, at least, I would like to think I am growing) and I'm realising that there is so much more to music (and life) than only Jason Mraz. Does that make any sense?

And in a few years I'll look back at myself, my stupid eighteen-year-old self, and say, "My god, was I stupid back then. I thought I could do this and that and everything else, but--really, when it comes down to it, I was young and idealistic." But I'm okay with being young and idealistic. I hope to continue growing, though. Let's face it--did I think I'd still be a rabid, rabid Jason Mraz fan at thirty, the same way I was when I was fifteen? I mean, I had to unfollow some girl on tumblr because everything she posted was Jason Mraz, and I honestly got sick of it.

I like feeling my mind expand. It's pretty wonderful, and I hope it continues to do so. At the same time, I do not want to utterly reject the things I love. Instead, I just hope I can grow along with them.

Hermit the frog.

Two things that made me happy about today (when I felt like everything was crumbling in yesterday):

1. Cute guy who came into work. Or, rather, cute guy who was there when I was at work. As I walked past him, he was like, "Hey! You were in Laroche's astronomy class, right? And your birthday is February 29." It's sort of worth pointing out that there were 130-ish people in that class in a rather large lecture hall over a year ago, so I was quite shocked (and pleased) that he remembered me. And then we re-introduced ourselves. I only got his first name, Austin; shame I didn't ask for his last, for I can't even creep on him now like a true Facebook creeper! Nevertheless, he made my day. Sue was teasing me about the fact that the past few days, there have been guys who have recognised me at work (yesterday, it was some guy who I'd had class with last term) and so she said that I might be helping add to SC's statistics, which just made me laugh a lot.

2. The lit conference started today!!!!!!!!!!!! I went to a panel about space in Modernist writings (Woolf, WCWilliams, Forster) and ended up understanding a lot of what was said. I even asked questions! (Which is sort of a Big Deal for me, because these are all kind of Big Shot Paper People who were presenting stuff.) I ended up chatting with the guy who did the paper on William Carlos Williams for a while--he wrote a lot about how Williams quotes from historical documents, thus showing some disconnect between the archive and a need of new history, and somehow I managed to bring up Girl Talk in relation to all of this--and he seemed really impressed by the fact that I was like, "Sooooo I don't know if you've read any Borges but there's this one essay that..." and he said that he had read that one and it related quite nicely to it. So I felt kind of smart and he was also kind of cute and grad-student-y and maaaaaaaaaaybe I'll get to see him around the conference a little more. That would be nice.

Today has suddenly become a wonderful day.

Spaceman.

Sometimes I wonder if I ever saw any of the Bahraini protesters in passing when I was there. I know I only went to Bahrain a few times (but it was nearly always to Manama), but I wonder--were they in the mall at the same time as we were? Did I ever pass them while we were doing our shopping? (We went to Bahrain to get--well, not "contraband," but stuff that Saudi wouldn't sell. Like dolls, and maybe bacon.) Did our car ever pass theirs? Perhaps some of them visited Dammam, Dharan, Al-Khobar: would I have seen them there, out where we lived?

It's a bit of a silly question to wonder about, but nevertheless, I still do. I learned quite a bit in the Middle East when I lived in Saudi. I'm not sure whether I can say "I learned a lot," because I was only ten. I wasn't really paying attention to the political climate at the time. I was more concerned with my history homework and when I'd get to play with Hayley and if I could go rollerblading that day. But there is something you learn when you live in a completely different environment and culture, even if you live a Western compound, safely blocked off by walls and security checkpoints. I remember such a feeling of security, and yet at the same time I knew it wasn't safe, that there was something amiss.

I know I will probably never make it back to Saudi. I gave up hope of ever returning to say a proper goodbye to the place years and years ago. Hardly anyone I know is still there; everyone has scattered to their various corners of the globe. But sometimes--especially now, with all the protests in the Middle East--my mind returns to Saudi, and my vivid summer days come to life before my eyes once more.

If I ever do make it back, though (and that's a huge if, like astronomically-sized, an if of the"if I ever get a variety of spider named after me" variety), I know that the political climate will be different, not just in Saudi but throughout the entire Middle East. Hopefully, it will be different for the better.

Lovesong.

I think the thing I fear most about you (which sounds like an awful statement to begin with) is that you outshine me in every aspect of life. I get so frustrated with you venting all your problems at me, but I suppose you need someone--somewhere--to vent at. I just happen to be conveniently located.

So many people like you. They really like you. I wish I could say that I have benevolent wishes for you, that I've always wanted you to succeed, but to say that feels like cheating. I know I am an awful friend because of my discontent in our relationship. People think you are intelligent and funny and attractive and wonderful in general. They like being with you. They like being friends with you.

I know that I have friends, and I know that comparing myself to others is not a good thing to do. But sometimes I fear that people like you more than they like me, or that people think I'm weird because I don't like you as much. Sometimes I fear that you will outshine me, eclipse me in every aspect of life, even if you have no interest in it now. People like you change the world. And what do I do? Sit in a corner, writing useless papers, pondering my own existence. I sound silly with everything I say.

Perhaps it is just paranoia, perhaps it is--I don't know what it is. I fear that I am too unfair on you, and that you're really not that bad, and I'm just biased and awful as a friend. Perhaps I am just blind because, in reality, you are much better at everything--at life--than I am.

Salt skin.

Please don't stroke my hair. Please don't touch my head, please don't touch my shoulders. I am okay with people touching my body, giving me hugs, a pat on the back--whatever. But when you touch my hair, it's like you're trying to be a mother. You say, "Are you okay?" and I respond with whatever and then YOU TOUCH MY HAIR and it makes me feel so disgusted with myself, for some reason. It reminds me of when _____ used to touch my foot; I didn't want to be in my own body, even though it was a small touch.

I know you mean well, but it makes me want to vomit inside myself. Nothing against you. Or sort of against you, I guess. I just don't like it when you touch me. It reminds me that you think you have control over me.

At the same time, I can't very well bring it up in casual conversation, can I? Then you'll just get angry that I haven't told you for all this time that I hate it when you touch my hair. You're not my mother. You are not a source of comfort. You were at one point--back when I thought you actually cared, or that you were really listening to what I said--but now... please, just don't.

However, you're going to come in at some point this week and do it again, and I won't say anything because I am a coward.

Sweetest lie.

What do you want me to say? "I'm sorry your mother is unsupportive?" "I'm sorry I unintentionally put pressure on you?" I understand that you are upset, but--whenever you get upset, you tend to berate. And I feel like you sort of just berated me for not being able to say anything.

So you don't want to be pre-med anymore. Okay, so I feel a bit of relief with this statement; you would have scared me as a doctor, in all honesty. But was I supposed to say that? No, because then you'd have said, "Why don't you believe in me? You're just like my mother, who implanted the doubt in the first place. I don't know what she wants." I don't know what she wants either. I'm sorry you're emotional, but I have no idea how to help. I tried suggesting things--talking to different advisors, going to the career centre--and you vetoed every choice. Okay.

Then you said, "I'm sorry," and acted as if you shouldn't have said anything, probably because I was largely unhelpful and unconsoling. I'm sorry... I just don't know what to say.

If you're feeling sinister.

I really hope that everything works out for you. I so do. I know how much you invest in what you have, and I hope you can continue to find happiness.

I just don't have any of the right words to say to you.

Winter winds.

(On a sidenote: Belle & Sebastian's If You're Feeling Sinister might really be one of my new favourite albums. Also, B&S are NOT an "artist on the verge," Target. Please get your facts straight.)

Some thoughts that have been swimming around for the past little while:

- Today was everything I wanted it to be; so many good friends, wonderful food. Laughter and feeling free. Nothing felt like I was "performing" any specific identity. I just was. It was wonderful.

- In a month and a day I will be seeing Josh Ritter. I WILL BE SEEING JOSH RITTER IN A MONTH AND A DAY. JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER JOSH RITTER.

- Marie seems to be talking to people again. I've stopped caring about her, really; I might have written a novel for her but I guess she really wasn't worth it.

- I fear that I sit here "biting my own neck," even though I haven't fucked anything up this time.

- I still worry about you.

- A and I have not talked much in the past week; we have been in separate spheres, really. I'm okay with this. Still, I freak out mentally every time I hear her voice.

- I wish I could have gone to the HP lecture tonight but it's okay. I'll get highlights from others, lolz.

I fear so many things, but my new pens make my life less fearful.

Same damn thing.

(100th post?)

Pet peeve of the day: when people say "you don't understand" how much they hate something, or how much they love something, or what they are feeling. (I am aware of being guilty of this as well, but I've been trying to phase this phrase out of my vocabulary.) I am well aware of the fact that I may not understand. To explain is one thing; to say "you don't understand" and then explain is another. It's like saying, "Here is how my brain works, in a way you will never comprehend." And it feels quite condescending.

It's not my favourite phrase, but I suppose I'll have to get used to it, because I clearly don't understand anything.

Number 1.

My roommate is upset because some guy who likes her gave her a box of chocolates and a card.

What did she want me to say? "I'm sorry someone thought of you?" Or perhaps she wanted me to channel what she's been berating so she could yell about it some more.

I wonder if she even told the guy thank you. I can't tell her how or what to feel; but then again, neither can she do that to me.

She frustrates me so much.

You don't make it easy babe.

Thanks for belittling my suggestions. I'm glad to know that you ask me about stuff and then discount everything I say because I "don't understand" how tired you are or how much work you have to do. It's so nice to feel like my suggestions mean something to you.

No matter how much you claim you "love" me or that I'm one of your "favourite people in the world," I don't think you really mean it. I think you try hard, but you're not a friend at all. You don't listen. You never have.

Rattling locks.

Brian Jacques, author of the Redwall series, died at age 71 this weekend.

Well, that's the end of my childhood, if it hadn't already ended. The Redwall books were among my favourites as a kid; they got me through many a tough time, including the whole evacuation mess that we had to go through. Whenever I opened a Redwall book, I knew that I was going to fall into it and live among the characters for the next week or so. I could hear the mice, voles, hares, badgers, and stoats all talking in my head, with their distinctive voices and sayings, and I could almost always taste the food from the feasts he gave his characters. I read some of those books a multitude of times, falling in love with the characters again and again--Matthias, Mattimeo, Martin the Warrior, and so many more.

So thank you, good sir, for giving me so much to read. Thank you for reminding me why I loved reading in the first place, and, most importantly, thank you for being an early influence on my writing and being one of the reasons why I wanted to become a writer in the first place. I hope you know just how many children (and adults) you made happy and enthralled with your books. May you live forever through your words.