For the first time in a week, I feel like myself.
I am sad.
And I lied to him and told him I didn't have any idea why. It's the first time I've ever lied to him about anything important.
And Derek is an hour and a half late, so apparently I'm gonna end up going to the coffee house without him. And an another Ally McBeal episode is playing. And I feel as though my life has become a series of events that signify that something is fundamentally wrong with me.
And I am frustrated by the fact that now that I've written that, people can think it's there duty to help me and hold that against me when I tell them I'm fine, I don't need it. I am fine, in almost every way, but there's something I have to resolve. And I don't have any idea what it is.
That's not true, either. But I sincerely just don't know how anymore. Though, and I type this, despite it's ruining the feeling of the rest of the post to save me troubles later, I'm fairly sure that it doesn't really involve any of you. At least not until I figure out what the first steps are. (There's one obvious exception to that last statement, but he'll either know who he is or find out.)
On with it.
Wednesday, December 05, 2001
Ah, I wanted to say that the grand thing about it all, as Ben would say, is that at this point in our lives, there's really not very much that could actually stop us if we had enough balls to do all that. Sure, we'd run out of money fairly quickly, but no one could stop us, right now, from starting the adventure and giving it all it's worth- I point this out because it's a beautiful, romantic, freeing notion and because if there ARE teachers reading this, I bet it pisses 'em off that they couldn't.
On with it!
On with it!
So earlier I wrote a nice lengthy post, but blogger ate it for a late dinner. Suffice to say I pointed out that I was too afraid certain people might read my site, unexpectedly, and that would fuck both me and them up the ass. I also sent out a vivacious hello to my fan from across the seas, who checked my site again, according to the hit stats. Other than that, I talked about how I was downloading a little somethin' somethin' to convert a midi into sheet music for me and talked about my renewed interest in making music. I probably said something else, too, but who cares anymore? I hope it gives blogger indigestion!
So I went downstairs and practiced on the old pewter saxophone once I was through with the sheet music thing. The pewter saxophone needs about 500 dollras worth of repairs to work at all.....it's a real struggle playing it the way it is, some keys randomly decide not to work, it needs to be repadded and realigned, etc. But it's tone is soooo much more gorgeous than the new one.
Ben and I are forgetting our troubles together in our plan to take Jeff and Molly and go live in the Ozarks and go have orgies in some abandoned log cabin and not come back until we'd had too many orgasms to go on with it. Now we just have to convince Molly and Jeff...and hope our friends and families won't hate us for randomly leaving for however long...except shit like that is exactly what makes me constantly conspire with people to do things like this- I don't want to be held accountable for anyone's tears anymore. Not right now, anyway. Maybe tomorrow morning I'll wake up just overwhelmed with excitement about the fact that I can, and frequently do, make people feel like shit just by acting like myself, but right now....I'd rather just be sleeping in the warm, fragrant air of the black hills with a lover to one side, a friend to the other, a king-sized matress underneath me and the gorgeous star-filled mountain sky above....and, you know, a complete stranger somewhere else on the bed. But still. I think I'll go to bed dreaming about that tonight.
Ben seems to be rooting for arizona...that'd work too. I don't care that much. Though I'd want to stop at the Ozarks on the way- my favorite book of all time was set there. I always thought it would be gorgeous.
There was SOMETHING else I wanted to say, but having no concept whatsoever anymore of what it was, I think I'll be off. My bed summons sweetly....hmm, summons, good word for my pretty-sounding word list.
On with it....
So I went downstairs and practiced on the old pewter saxophone once I was through with the sheet music thing. The pewter saxophone needs about 500 dollras worth of repairs to work at all.....it's a real struggle playing it the way it is, some keys randomly decide not to work, it needs to be repadded and realigned, etc. But it's tone is soooo much more gorgeous than the new one.
Ben and I are forgetting our troubles together in our plan to take Jeff and Molly and go live in the Ozarks and go have orgies in some abandoned log cabin and not come back until we'd had too many orgasms to go on with it. Now we just have to convince Molly and Jeff...and hope our friends and families won't hate us for randomly leaving for however long...except shit like that is exactly what makes me constantly conspire with people to do things like this- I don't want to be held accountable for anyone's tears anymore. Not right now, anyway. Maybe tomorrow morning I'll wake up just overwhelmed with excitement about the fact that I can, and frequently do, make people feel like shit just by acting like myself, but right now....I'd rather just be sleeping in the warm, fragrant air of the black hills with a lover to one side, a friend to the other, a king-sized matress underneath me and the gorgeous star-filled mountain sky above....and, you know, a complete stranger somewhere else on the bed. But still. I think I'll go to bed dreaming about that tonight.
Ben seems to be rooting for arizona...that'd work too. I don't care that much. Though I'd want to stop at the Ozarks on the way- my favorite book of all time was set there. I always thought it would be gorgeous.
There was SOMETHING else I wanted to say, but having no concept whatsoever anymore of what it was, I think I'll be off. My bed summons sweetly....hmm, summons, good word for my pretty-sounding word list.
On with it....
Tuesday, December 04, 2001
It's a wonder to have a tiny little creature that lives with you. No, no, I am not sappily referring to Austin, I'm talking about Cody, my ferret.
I'll tell you why I ended that sentence with "my ferret"- I decided, on a whim, to check out my counter stats to see where the last fifty of my measley 1,934 hits came from, and I saw that it would seem I have at least one fan- or someone who checks my site regularly, for whatever reason (perhaps he/she intends to instant message me one day, woo me online, propose marraige and use me to get a green card...one never knows), from the united kingdom. This leads me to wonder how many, if any, other unknown site-checkers I might have. I could easily identify most of the IP addresses/server tags (?) on the list....gwi is ben, adelphia I presume is..uh, maybe kris or something? and my umaine fan is Mark. Beyond that...no real idea...but yeah, whatever, not important.
I'm listening to "The Dance" by Garth Brooks right now, which is reminding me, solemnly, of a poem that Andrew wrote for me that he read to me today after I told him what I needed to- I am with Jeff. (Or, uh, something like that. He and I didn't partake in as much discussion of the matter as we did...other actions.) This, for me, is incredibly hood, and the reason that I have been gushing words of goodness lately...though I'm not doing so terribly well today. After the incredibly unpleasant encounter with Andrew- which included being yelled at and having to deal with...well, let's just say, for his sake, intensity, I got locked out of my house after walking home and had to walk to Jenn's house. Jenn and I decided to go to the auburn mall, which was pleasant enough, except that there's nothing like dressing room mirrors to make someone feel bad about themselves and now I think I may be slightly anorexic for the next few days, and I managed to make my leg unbearably soar from all the walking.
This generally wouldn't be enough to ruin a jeff-related high...maybe it was just Andrew or maybe I'm having hormone problems, or maybe I already miss him or something. I don't know. I feel like doing one of two things- calling Jeff in hopes that he can make it better or going to sleep.
Yes, I know, any more mention of the word "Jeff" and we're all going to be sick. I'll try to lay off in the future. Heh, I wrote today- sappy fucking teenaged love poem for him, it was sooooo bad. (Which, in my terms, means sooooo average.) I'm thinking of re-working it, but it'll take a lot to make it less than nauseating.
Speaking of this, my stomach has been a big part of why I've felt pretty shitty lately. Wonder what that's about.
I feel like spending some time in the Jesse-mobile, with the heat and the base blaring and me falling asleep on him.....I wonder if I'm still allowed to fall asleep on people...well, in there laps anyway. I've been basically trying to cut out any activity that may lead to my acting like the slut I can so easily be since jeff and I...became whatever the fuck it is we are. Guess I should get a more definitive idea of that, huh?
I'll call him. I should. He could probably cure my stomach with his voice. (Though that comment probably just did the opposite to all of yours...I will lay off soon, just not yet.)
I have just made plans to go for a ride in the jesse-mobile (as only I call it) tomorrow after driver's ed...this makes me happy. Jesse's car, with his MASSIVE amounts of bass, relaxes the shit out of me for some reason. I'll probably need that by the end of tomorrow. Call it a hunch.
Apparently Jesse's car is named "Bullet". And his explanation of the reason why is quintessential right: "Because it starts fast, but after a while, it slows down."
:-) Am I the only one who feels like laughing their ass of at that?
Perhaps it's Jesse that relaxes me- something about not feeling pressured to actually make conversation when I'm with him. We just sort of sit there and listen to his thunder-music until one of us has a comment to make. It's....well, it takes less intelligence than most of my human interactions do. I like that.
At any rate, I'm gonna take some aspirins, lie down, pray my portable phone is charged and run up the long distance bill, assuming a certain someone is in their dorm. Let's hope...
on with it....
I'll tell you why I ended that sentence with "my ferret"- I decided, on a whim, to check out my counter stats to see where the last fifty of my measley 1,934 hits came from, and I saw that it would seem I have at least one fan- or someone who checks my site regularly, for whatever reason (perhaps he/she intends to instant message me one day, woo me online, propose marraige and use me to get a green card...one never knows), from the united kingdom. This leads me to wonder how many, if any, other unknown site-checkers I might have. I could easily identify most of the IP addresses/server tags (?) on the list....gwi is ben, adelphia I presume is..uh, maybe kris or something? and my umaine fan is Mark. Beyond that...no real idea...but yeah, whatever, not important.
I'm listening to "The Dance" by Garth Brooks right now, which is reminding me, solemnly, of a poem that Andrew wrote for me that he read to me today after I told him what I needed to- I am with Jeff. (Or, uh, something like that. He and I didn't partake in as much discussion of the matter as we did...other actions.) This, for me, is incredibly hood, and the reason that I have been gushing words of goodness lately...though I'm not doing so terribly well today. After the incredibly unpleasant encounter with Andrew- which included being yelled at and having to deal with...well, let's just say, for his sake, intensity, I got locked out of my house after walking home and had to walk to Jenn's house. Jenn and I decided to go to the auburn mall, which was pleasant enough, except that there's nothing like dressing room mirrors to make someone feel bad about themselves and now I think I may be slightly anorexic for the next few days, and I managed to make my leg unbearably soar from all the walking.
This generally wouldn't be enough to ruin a jeff-related high...maybe it was just Andrew or maybe I'm having hormone problems, or maybe I already miss him or something. I don't know. I feel like doing one of two things- calling Jeff in hopes that he can make it better or going to sleep.
Yes, I know, any more mention of the word "Jeff" and we're all going to be sick. I'll try to lay off in the future. Heh, I wrote today- sappy fucking teenaged love poem for him, it was sooooo bad. (Which, in my terms, means sooooo average.) I'm thinking of re-working it, but it'll take a lot to make it less than nauseating.
Speaking of this, my stomach has been a big part of why I've felt pretty shitty lately. Wonder what that's about.
I feel like spending some time in the Jesse-mobile, with the heat and the base blaring and me falling asleep on him.....I wonder if I'm still allowed to fall asleep on people...well, in there laps anyway. I've been basically trying to cut out any activity that may lead to my acting like the slut I can so easily be since jeff and I...became whatever the fuck it is we are. Guess I should get a more definitive idea of that, huh?
I'll call him. I should. He could probably cure my stomach with his voice. (Though that comment probably just did the opposite to all of yours...I will lay off soon, just not yet.)
I have just made plans to go for a ride in the jesse-mobile (as only I call it) tomorrow after driver's ed...this makes me happy. Jesse's car, with his MASSIVE amounts of bass, relaxes the shit out of me for some reason. I'll probably need that by the end of tomorrow. Call it a hunch.
Apparently Jesse's car is named "Bullet". And his explanation of the reason why is quintessential right: "Because it starts fast, but after a while, it slows down."
:-) Am I the only one who feels like laughing their ass of at that?
Perhaps it's Jesse that relaxes me- something about not feeling pressured to actually make conversation when I'm with him. We just sort of sit there and listen to his thunder-music until one of us has a comment to make. It's....well, it takes less intelligence than most of my human interactions do. I like that.
At any rate, I'm gonna take some aspirins, lie down, pray my portable phone is charged and run up the long distance bill, assuming a certain someone is in their dorm. Let's hope...
on with it....
Monday, December 03, 2001
So bored and tired and with so many better things I could be doing....been motivated to do a lot of journal-type shit lately, or just writing, except this is the only thing I can write....other than maybe e-mails.....but I saw jeff twice this weekend and I've got relatively little left to say to him as of write now, and being that he's the only person I really e-mail to.....maybe I should write my newsletter again.
Not tonight though.....I feel like sleeping except that I know I wouldn't be able to do it this early- so many noisy people in my house still awake....and I should do my "why I want and deserve to be the editor of the quill" thing for Mrs. White...I want and deserve to be the editor of the quill because it's my goddamned baby, I'm the only senior on the staff and I've been on it since freshmen year, and because I do everything I can for it, and futhermore, because Andrew and Amber, the only other non-freshmen staff members (that I'm aware of, anyway) both want to give it to me.
Wonder if I could write that and get away with it. It'd be pretty hard to argue with.
I want Mr. Hall to give me my logbook back so I can savor his praise. I want praise lately, damn it! PRAISE ME!
OH shit, Nick's away message is fucking hilarious: What does a l337 h4x0r say? w00t.
What does a l337 c0w say? m00t.
It's funny not only because Nick is waaaaaaay too intelligent to ever use l337 (an internet language for DUMB PEOPLE), but because he so clearly can't do it. I wonder who he's making fun of specifically, if anyone.
"Hey yo
This song is for anyone....
fuck it. Just shut up and listen."
~Eminem, The Way I Am
Austin just burst through the door and I screamed and jumped, like :-) eight feet. (Only Jeff, and possibly Emily, knows why I'm smiling right there....not that Jeff is reading this, so whatev.)
I miss talking to Elorza. It's been a really damned long time.
*Linda sits at her computer and headbangs to Green Day.*
Gonna go level Andrew on (don't hate me!) Well Of Souls. I'll probably back, unless I -hahahaha- decide to do something productive.
On with it.
Not tonight though.....I feel like sleeping except that I know I wouldn't be able to do it this early- so many noisy people in my house still awake....and I should do my "why I want and deserve to be the editor of the quill" thing for Mrs. White...I want and deserve to be the editor of the quill because it's my goddamned baby, I'm the only senior on the staff and I've been on it since freshmen year, and because I do everything I can for it, and futhermore, because Andrew and Amber, the only other non-freshmen staff members (that I'm aware of, anyway) both want to give it to me.
Wonder if I could write that and get away with it. It'd be pretty hard to argue with.
I want Mr. Hall to give me my logbook back so I can savor his praise. I want praise lately, damn it! PRAISE ME!
OH shit, Nick's away message is fucking hilarious: What does a l337 h4x0r say? w00t.
What does a l337 c0w say? m00t.
It's funny not only because Nick is waaaaaaay too intelligent to ever use l337 (an internet language for DUMB PEOPLE), but because he so clearly can't do it. I wonder who he's making fun of specifically, if anyone.
"Hey yo
This song is for anyone....
fuck it. Just shut up and listen."
~Eminem, The Way I Am
Austin just burst through the door and I screamed and jumped, like :-) eight feet. (Only Jeff, and possibly Emily, knows why I'm smiling right there....not that Jeff is reading this, so whatev.)
I miss talking to Elorza. It's been a really damned long time.
*Linda sits at her computer and headbangs to Green Day.*
Gonna go level Andrew on (don't hate me!) Well Of Souls. I'll probably back, unless I -hahahaha- decide to do something productive.
On with it.
Bone Thugs N (and?) Harmony, Crossroads. The sound of this song is transcendent.
And speaking of transcendent, have I mentioned how totally in love I am? (No, not with Mr. L, you pointless internet-obsessed little scandal-seeking vermon) I'll get to it...talking to Andrew tomorrow, after that I can finally just put it all out there.
But, since your morbid curiousities make your pulses pound in middle-aged anticipation, I guess I should include that, yes, seeing Mr. L was excellent. I didn't really bat an eyelash. Sorta like always, except....well, I don't know. Felt more productive or something. Found myself staring at him just thinking "Holy shit...it's Mr. L, right here. I'm talking to him. This is....holy shit." He's one of those people that, for me, sort of glows by virtue of hisself. Maybe it was lighting or something, but somebody should be painting portraits of him. I guess we put halos around people who are saviors to us, though.
He mentioned that he bets every teacher at Lisbon High has read or is reading this- I argued with him, but it's got me curious now. (This, by the way, is where I got the "middle-aged anticipation" reference from) Maybe a few of them, other than those who I know have or are, do....and wouldn't that be great? To have all these people following my life, knowing my mood as I walk down the hallway and thinking about what they had read the night before. Wanting to comment but thinking perhaps that their jobs might be in jeopardy if Dicky-boy found out that, yes, they are one of the many readers of the most private, personal publicized thoughts about Miss Linda H.
Thinking about the teachers there, I don't think it's really possible for most of them...but if any of you are out there and enjoying this, man, you wouldn't be able to put down what Mr. Hall gets to read
I should start writing things for no other reason than to be noteworthy to those who aren't allowed to take note. :-} I'll have to start working on that. And y'all can start a pool as to the exact date when I'll get kicked out of good ol' Lisbon High for good. And never step foot in that place again, just like Stephen King.
Wouldn't it be cool if he were reading this? One of these days, I'm gonna have a fan base.
I think I'd want them (teachers) to be reading it just to give them some sort of renewed sense of how real students actually are. How much we really are people, as much as them, if not moreso. Give them some perspective on how much more we have to care about than fucking overdue book reports and other such educational bull shit. You know what, faculty everywhere? My friends cry, and they need me, and I have a family I'm striving to avoid and a past I'm trying to get ahead of, and a passion for writing and living and loving outside the confines of that academic prison, and every now and then (probably a little more, too) I break down. And it's because of bullshit just like you go through.
To work in a school, as a teacher, is to give more than just a a little of your life to it. But maybe they aren't conscious of the fact that we never chose to be students, and we're off devoting our lives, tentatively, to things that will define who we are every bit as much as being a teacher defines them.
Don't know what to write anymore...
"Now for ten years we've been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rolling stone
But that's now how it used to be.
When the jester sang for the king and queen
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
In a voice that came from you and me
Oh, and while the king was looking down
The Jester stole his thorny crown
The courtroom was adjurned
No verdict was returned
And while Lennon read a book on Marx
The court kept practice in the park
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died."
~If you don't know what it's from, you suck anyway.
(that quote didn't have any real significance right now....I just like it and it's what I'm playing...)
singing and dancing my way to hell......on with it....
And speaking of transcendent, have I mentioned how totally in love I am? (No, not with Mr. L, you pointless internet-obsessed little scandal-seeking vermon) I'll get to it...talking to Andrew tomorrow, after that I can finally just put it all out there.
But, since your morbid curiousities make your pulses pound in middle-aged anticipation, I guess I should include that, yes, seeing Mr. L was excellent. I didn't really bat an eyelash. Sorta like always, except....well, I don't know. Felt more productive or something. Found myself staring at him just thinking "Holy shit...it's Mr. L, right here. I'm talking to him. This is....holy shit." He's one of those people that, for me, sort of glows by virtue of hisself. Maybe it was lighting or something, but somebody should be painting portraits of him. I guess we put halos around people who are saviors to us, though.
He mentioned that he bets every teacher at Lisbon High has read or is reading this- I argued with him, but it's got me curious now. (This, by the way, is where I got the "middle-aged anticipation" reference from) Maybe a few of them, other than those who I know have or are, do....and wouldn't that be great? To have all these people following my life, knowing my mood as I walk down the hallway and thinking about what they had read the night before. Wanting to comment but thinking perhaps that their jobs might be in jeopardy if Dicky-boy found out that, yes, they are one of the many readers of the most private, personal publicized thoughts about Miss Linda H.
Thinking about the teachers there, I don't think it's really possible for most of them...but if any of you are out there and enjoying this, man, you wouldn't be able to put down what Mr. Hall gets to read
I should start writing things for no other reason than to be noteworthy to those who aren't allowed to take note. :-} I'll have to start working on that. And y'all can start a pool as to the exact date when I'll get kicked out of good ol' Lisbon High for good. And never step foot in that place again, just like Stephen King.
Wouldn't it be cool if he were reading this? One of these days, I'm gonna have a fan base.
I think I'd want them (teachers) to be reading it just to give them some sort of renewed sense of how real students actually are. How much we really are people, as much as them, if not moreso. Give them some perspective on how much more we have to care about than fucking overdue book reports and other such educational bull shit. You know what, faculty everywhere? My friends cry, and they need me, and I have a family I'm striving to avoid and a past I'm trying to get ahead of, and a passion for writing and living and loving outside the confines of that academic prison, and every now and then (probably a little more, too) I break down. And it's because of bullshit just like you go through.
To work in a school, as a teacher, is to give more than just a a little of your life to it. But maybe they aren't conscious of the fact that we never chose to be students, and we're off devoting our lives, tentatively, to things that will define who we are every bit as much as being a teacher defines them.
Don't know what to write anymore...
"Now for ten years we've been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rolling stone
But that's now how it used to be.
When the jester sang for the king and queen
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
In a voice that came from you and me
Oh, and while the king was looking down
The Jester stole his thorny crown
The courtroom was adjurned
No verdict was returned
And while Lennon read a book on Marx
The court kept practice in the park
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died."
~If you don't know what it's from, you suck anyway.
(that quote didn't have any real significance right now....I just like it and it's what I'm playing...)
singing and dancing my way to hell......on with it....
Things that don't concern me, or aren't ambiguous enough for me to pretend they concern me, or aren't about anybody that my mind is racing over the idea of over and over again that week very very seldomly interest me.
I am probably the most self-centered person I know when it comes to....I don't know, a lot of things. And I don't have a terribly big problem with that.
If it takes a twenty minutes to get to lewiston- and I don't know if it does, then I will be on my way to Mr. Ladd's office in a little over a half hour. Or a little under. How positively......I don't know how I'll feel in the car ride up there, or how hard my hard will be beating or how difficult it will be to breath when I step in the doorway to the Y and look for him. I don't know how it will feel to see him for the first time in almost two years and stare at him, knowing that he is the one I blamed for so much of my pain for so long, that I am definitively caught up in the moment I've been fearing so much and hoping for so unsurely for so long- seeing him again. Holy shit, this is happening today.
Thank god I'm barely conscious of that. I'd have combusted by now.
All part of the "morbid obsession", right?
It feels weird contrasting a weekend that great with a day that started out this badly and a afternoon that promises to be so.....impossibly emotional. First thing this morning, a certain Mr. Mentor decided to get into a Mr. Ladd-bashing session that I reacted to quite strongly, then Ms. Grant got quite unfoundedly angry at me in English- a very frightening experience- and Madame V was upset about this weekend in French- her cat got run over, among other things. That set me off a little, memories of my dog and all that. Study hall and lunch were fine I guess, and in chemistry I used free time to write a fairly depressing song- it's the first thing I've finished even a rough draft of in a damn long time.
I should eat or something.
So, yeah...friends of Linda, prepare for fall out. This could get interesting.
On with it....
I am probably the most self-centered person I know when it comes to....I don't know, a lot of things. And I don't have a terribly big problem with that.
If it takes a twenty minutes to get to lewiston- and I don't know if it does, then I will be on my way to Mr. Ladd's office in a little over a half hour. Or a little under. How positively......I don't know how I'll feel in the car ride up there, or how hard my hard will be beating or how difficult it will be to breath when I step in the doorway to the Y and look for him. I don't know how it will feel to see him for the first time in almost two years and stare at him, knowing that he is the one I blamed for so much of my pain for so long, that I am definitively caught up in the moment I've been fearing so much and hoping for so unsurely for so long- seeing him again. Holy shit, this is happening today.
Thank god I'm barely conscious of that. I'd have combusted by now.
All part of the "morbid obsession", right?
It feels weird contrasting a weekend that great with a day that started out this badly and a afternoon that promises to be so.....impossibly emotional. First thing this morning, a certain Mr. Mentor decided to get into a Mr. Ladd-bashing session that I reacted to quite strongly, then Ms. Grant got quite unfoundedly angry at me in English- a very frightening experience- and Madame V was upset about this weekend in French- her cat got run over, among other things. That set me off a little, memories of my dog and all that. Study hall and lunch were fine I guess, and in chemistry I used free time to write a fairly depressing song- it's the first thing I've finished even a rough draft of in a damn long time.
I should eat or something.
So, yeah...friends of Linda, prepare for fall out. This could get interesting.
On with it....
Sunday, December 02, 2001
Ben and Em are amazing.
Em, having read this site and knowing generally more than the rest of you, e-mails me for no other reason than to let me know that everything's okay so far as she goes and she's happy for me. And she fully encourages my rejoicing to her. She's amazing.
Ben is being trés supportive as well, being that I have just broken up whatever nameless involvement we've had since, like, halfway through Andrew- don't get me wrong, I never actually did anything with Ben while I was with Andrew...well, once, but our relationship certainly wasn't the picture of platonicy.
Not that many of you know why all this has happened yet, but while I've talked to most of the affected parties about it, I've yet to sit down and discuss it with Andrew, and while he probably doesn't check the site, on the offchance that he might, he doesn't deserve to have to read it.
So, yeah....all this excitement puts me in the mood to call Jeff. What a surprise. On with it.
Em, having read this site and knowing generally more than the rest of you, e-mails me for no other reason than to let me know that everything's okay so far as she goes and she's happy for me. And she fully encourages my rejoicing to her. She's amazing.
Ben is being trés supportive as well, being that I have just broken up whatever nameless involvement we've had since, like, halfway through Andrew- don't get me wrong, I never actually did anything with Ben while I was with Andrew...well, once, but our relationship certainly wasn't the picture of platonicy.
Not that many of you know why all this has happened yet, but while I've talked to most of the affected parties about it, I've yet to sit down and discuss it with Andrew, and while he probably doesn't check the site, on the offchance that he might, he doesn't deserve to have to read it.
So, yeah....all this excitement puts me in the mood to call Jeff. What a surprise. On with it.
Fucking ay! Good goddamned weekend!
SATs were so nothing to get stressed over, went out with Jenn afterwards, bought some shit, ate lunch at *pizza hut*, Ryan cancelled on me but I went with my mom and got popcorn chicken for dinner, went to Triangle Sleep, watched them- fucking awesome- finally talked to Derek (in person) for some respectable amount of time, as well as Jeremiah Freed, whom me, Mark (lead sing of tri sleep), and some misc. others **got into a very casual conversation with afterwards for like a half hour**, caught a ride with Mark to Denny's where a whole shitload of us went afterward, got on a caffeine high and wrote on a napkin for a while, talked with Mark- such an awesome guy- went home shoved in the back seat with John Teft, an amplifier, some sort of dial-oriented thing and two guitars, went upstairs and the computer was already on, as if waiting for me.
And while I can't really disclose a lot of events of last night until I've had a chance to discuss it on a more personal level with everyone it's going to affect- which is a disturbingly large amount- let's just say if I had to make the decision, I'd trade in like eighty todays for yesterday.
And, yeah, seeing Jeff tomorrow (much later today), so all in all, the weekend has been *fabulous*. Enough to make me start using Emily-type words like *fabulous*.
So basically, aside from the horrid pain that the mixture of excessive amonts of caffeine (even for me), pizza hut (Heeeellllllloooooo, lactose intolerance!) and popcorn chicken (what's that? Fried food? My stomach doesn't do fried food.) is creating...and hell, even including it, I'm in a damned good mood right now.
Wish I knew Jeremiah Freed's music enough to quote them right here just to make myself feel even better that I totally met them (totally! God, my good mood is strangling the profundity of my vocabulary), but I don't listen to the radio. (Shut up, shut up! I know the irony when I see it!)
So instead, let me just do my best to reiterate the riff from scarlett (by "triangle sheep", as CYY called them on air) that I've had in my head all damned night:
"Do do do do DOOO do dooo do do do DOOO dooo Doo do...."
ON WITH IT!!!!!! (multiple explanation points SUCK!!!!!!!!!!)
SATs were so nothing to get stressed over, went out with Jenn afterwards, bought some shit, ate lunch at *pizza hut*, Ryan cancelled on me but I went with my mom and got popcorn chicken for dinner, went to Triangle Sleep, watched them- fucking awesome- finally talked to Derek (in person) for some respectable amount of time, as well as Jeremiah Freed, whom me, Mark (lead sing of tri sleep), and some misc. others **got into a very casual conversation with afterwards for like a half hour**, caught a ride with Mark to Denny's where a whole shitload of us went afterward, got on a caffeine high and wrote on a napkin for a while, talked with Mark- such an awesome guy- went home shoved in the back seat with John Teft, an amplifier, some sort of dial-oriented thing and two guitars, went upstairs and the computer was already on, as if waiting for me.
And while I can't really disclose a lot of events of last night until I've had a chance to discuss it on a more personal level with everyone it's going to affect- which is a disturbingly large amount- let's just say if I had to make the decision, I'd trade in like eighty todays for yesterday.
And, yeah, seeing Jeff tomorrow (much later today), so all in all, the weekend has been *fabulous*. Enough to make me start using Emily-type words like *fabulous*.
So basically, aside from the horrid pain that the mixture of excessive amonts of caffeine (even for me), pizza hut (Heeeellllllloooooo, lactose intolerance!) and popcorn chicken (what's that? Fried food? My stomach doesn't do fried food.) is creating...and hell, even including it, I'm in a damned good mood right now.
Wish I knew Jeremiah Freed's music enough to quote them right here just to make myself feel even better that I totally met them (totally! God, my good mood is strangling the profundity of my vocabulary), but I don't listen to the radio. (Shut up, shut up! I know the irony when I see it!)
So instead, let me just do my best to reiterate the riff from scarlett (by "triangle sheep", as CYY called them on air) that I've had in my head all damned night:
"Do do do do DOOO do dooo do do do DOOO dooo Doo do...."
ON WITH IT!!!!!! (multiple explanation points SUCK!!!!!!!!!!)
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