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!