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Thursday, 30 June 2011

This is ridiculous

LesMisGuy's been online for 5min or so. I had to get online too (after double-checking and finding I wasn't). Now I'm wondering if I should talk to him. I'm wishing he'd talk to me. Only I realise it's silly. But my heart is pounding. I miss my old reasonable self...

[14min later]
Aaand he's offline. *bangs head* You'd think I'd get a grip, wouldn't you?

[8:13pm edit]
I caved. After considering asking him what it's like being a Virgo (which would have been very corny), and then figuring it was very much like me to prove I wasn't quoting bullshit when I said roman rulers extended their governing periods by adding months to the years. Just like I proved EBF wrong about the full moon in Van Gogh's Starry Night (there isn't one). I could've reckoned I phrased it incorrectly, and I exaggerated a lot, but it was still true. And Wikipedia agrees. So I said hi. And got nothing. A couple of hours later he logged off. Yeah...

So I decided to play with make up. Next thing I know I've nailed Doctor Frank n' Furter. If I dress up at all this Halloween, it will be as Frank n' Furter. It would be awesome. Granted I'm not kicked out of any place for looking like a tranny. Which I'd have to call out as undue discrimination. Right.

Back on subject, I'm not even going to try talking to LesMisGuy again. He can try to reach me. I should've stuck by that instead of caving in to wanting to talk to him. So there.

[12:44pm edit]
It's been a while now. I want to kiss him so badly. Can't help but imagine different outcomes to yesterday's evening... outcomes where I managed to kiss him. Or any other situation where I might kiss him. Oh boy...

[2:26am edit]
I don't usually consider myself an impatient person. Except I'm being impatient now. And I keep remembering things from the afternoon out with LesMisGuy. Most likely meaningless. I just can't get my mind to settle down and think of something else. I want to know already! Is he interested? If I had to judge by initiative alone, it's hopeless. Ok, so really I don't have anything indicating he's actually interested. Except he could be avoiding me. Which he might be, if him not answering means anything. Right... I really should get kissing him out of my mind already. And yet I remember him playing with his napkin, patting his lips clean quite often.... Those lips! Oh dear... I'm running out of time to study. And I'm not feeling too eager to go out with A. And I'm wondering when the next Harry Potter film is coming out. And if it would be appropriate to go with LesMisGuy. I have got to get it together already... Even watching make up tutorials back to back isn't helping. It's been hours and I can't manage to stop thinking about kissing him. It's going to be a long three weeks.

Last night's dreams

Oh boy... it was madness. I'm not sure I'll remember everything, but I'll try and get as much of it down as I can.

There was a dream where we were getting a dog. We, in this case, included some very young girls. I'd chosen a dog that looked a bit like a street dog. No particular breed. Just larger than the average medium sized dog, short hair, blond, long ears, medium length tail. It was not a puppy. He didn't look very good. In fact, the sides of his mouth bled a little, and he had square holes in his skin on his sides and his back. Badly hurt. To me it meant he needed to be taken care of. To me, even though I wasn't eager to get a new dog and wasn't particularly fond of this one, he didn't deserve to be rejected. He deserved to be pampered back to health and given a chance to be happy. Not sure what happened with him.

There was another dream that involved nested dreams. In this dream I'd had a dream about a natural disaster and about huge (acromantula huge) spiders. The spiders had a fairly shiny exoskeleton, with tiny hairs and yellow bits. For some reason, D and others had been involved in the natural disaster, or with the spiders, and they'd had dreams about the other thing as well. I was supposed to talk to him. I don't believe I did. I'm not sure what he was doing in my dream, to be honest. Don't know what happened here.

There was also a bizarre dream that took place in an empty factory. There was someone who had to be saved, and all I remember is hiding after running away from a few guards and a door opening. I was sure they'd found me and whomever I was protecting, but it was an old lady and someone else, and they helped us out.

There's this last dream that probably deserves a censored label. You've been warned. It involved a couple at the beach. She wanted to have sex with him, but the kids got in the way. Next thing you know, she's trying to explain a handjob as anything but, and the little girl's helping her. Twisted. Very sick. Some black man saw them, and the dad did something to him so he wouldn't speak. Again, twisted. Sick. Yeah. Not sure what that dream was doing there. Then again I'm not sure what any of the dreams there are supposed to mean, if anything at all. And here I was thinking I just might dream about LesMisGuy...

Sorry, still pondering

I know I should be studying. I even turned off the computer and unplugged it. I got up and plugged it again after turning it on once more.

Never mind the lower back pain. Yesterday it was a headache and mild nausea. Today it's lower back pain and no position seems to help. That just rules out television. I could be studying in the position I'm in right now. I'm just choosing not to.

I'm still thinking about what went on today.

For one, I'm already beating myself up and thinking I'm terrible at social interaction and he'll never want to go out with me again. There's the inaccuracies in what I try to cite as facts, there's the impossible arguments, there's the contradiction in most everything I say, and then there's the repetition. I seem to go back to saying the same things, over and over, just like some people might say "er" or "um" as conversation fillers. It's awful.

Then, there's the fact that I might have predicted that whole going to France and knowing history bit. I'll be wanting to keep better record of that. It occurred to me that I'd already predicted A liked girls when I was young. I only just remembered today for the first time in ages. I remember specifically saying I really wouldn't mind if any of my friends were gay, and I'd only be a bit uncomfortable if they had crushes on me with her in mind. I should try and keep track, see how many predictions I nail...

Also, I can't help but remember how we parted. He hailed me a cab, the gentleman he is, and I got on. Before I did, though, I had to say goodbye so I leaned in for a kiss. Not a kiss on the lips, as N1 had suggested, just a kiss because I figured it was polite. Here's the thing: he was a bit taken by surprise, or so it seemed for a split second. Odd. And yet when I closed the door and looked outside he was looking at me so I waved and he waved back. Likely enough doesn't mean anything. I'm just still breaking down the bits of information.

In the twisted bit of my mind that pays too much attention to N1's silly fantasies, I'm left wondering if he shouldn't have texted to make sure I got home safe. Maybe I'm spoiled by AOB. And maybe I need to not think about AOB right now. That's a can of worms and I'll avoid opening it for as long as I can. Even EBF didn't know what to make of it. Told me to figure it out myself.

Right... But, could LesMisGuy not have tried talking to me? Say he had a good time? Again, american movie dating behaviour and likely enough not the sort of thing that happens. Not around these parts, anyway. I just couldn't help but notice that he's 1) facebook friends with SweetGal since around midnight, and 2) apparently meeting with some chick who's coming over. And by "some chick" I mean a girl who wrote Sunday night asking to meet with him and ended her message with an "I love youuu". So I'm in the insecure territory of my mind now...

Somewhere in the back of my mind I'm tempted to scream "I told you to expect nothing! I was right not to let myself dictate any more ultimatums! Of course nothing happened!" and yet I'm just stuck wondering... how do I fill the gap from here to any of the things I'm wishing would happen? EBF hasn't a clue because with him it's usually the bodies that do the talking and all he ever has to do is dance with a girl. Me? I'm not going dancing with LesMisGuy any time soon and any attempts at that would fail miserably. I figure we're supposed to keep going out. And yet, how are we supposed to show we're interested in each other? How do I go about telling him I have a crush on him? Just how am I supposed to know it's safe to come out and tell him if I don't get any clear signals from him? What about the leaning back and knee and foot touching?

As we sat today we both leaned back on our chairs, sort of away from each other, but both put our feet on the table's base. It's a bit odd, for me anyway, because we touched and I sought contact with him, often changing positions ever so slightly so I'd go back to touching him. And I did it without really thinking. I'm only just remembering. And I may be wrong and recalling fake memories. I just don't know what to make of it. Normally I'd have to say leaning back is not good. Only it might have been mirroring. And what about the touching? Could have meant nothing. And yet, shouldn't we have been closer together? I realise I might have been trying to keep distance to avoid him from noticing the bad shape of my face. I'm not entirely sure. He'd have no excuse, though, would he? Maybe he's just not interested...

Meaningless as it may be, I also remember him mentioning the weather being chilly. He put on his jacket a while before I did as we sat, and when we got up he said it was chilly. The rogue thought of it being an excuse to hug me did cross my mind. And I had to dismiss it as nonsense. I mentioned I wasn't cold myself and was feeling, in fact, a bit warm. I said it might be because of the heaters. I don't actually know. I'd like to say it was the warm rush that overcomes me when I think of him but it actually wasn't.

Which brings up a silly matter... Well not silly at all. I'm just overthinking al of it. Supposing he doesn't mind my silliness and/or I learn to control it, today was actually very nice. If that's what it's like to be with him one on one, I like it. And I look forward to it. If being in a relationship with him is anything like it, then I want in.

I wonder if he enjoyed himself.

I wonder if I should have ordered something to eat. Or asked him to stick around a while longer while we got something to eat elsewhere. Ans what if he couldn't wait to get away? What if he doesn't want to go out with me gain=

What if I pluck up and ask him to go to the cinema with me (not that I'd know what film to choose), and he flat out says no= This is why I'm probably right wanting him to take some initiative. I need to be given signs that he's interested. Seeing as I don't know him well enough, I just don't know if I'm reading him right and it scares me. And what exactly am I reading? How can I possibly know I'm not imagining things and trying to believe he had anything to do with it?

Oh dear...

It's like I told EBF. I'm trying to put together a puzzle of what it would be like to be LesMisGuy's girlfriend. I don't really know what the big picture looks like. I only have a vague idea. And there's a big gaping hole between where I am now and where I want us to be. I don't know if that's where we're actually headed. I don't know what pieces will fit in the hole. The fact that some pieces don't seem to belong to the puzzle at all (like AOB's link) just makes things worse. I'm puzzled.

Wednesday, 29 June 2011

That went... well, I hope

I had no time to keep record of my reaction. I had to make my schedule today, so I was online, and so was LesMisGuy. He talked to me. After a brief greeting he excused himself to go out for lunch. Then he got back and my internet wasn't working too well. Nothing to worry about. We talked about our schedules and I waited for him to bring up the subject of going out. He did (yay!). He asked where I'd like to go. I suggested a general location between our home addresses (and because it's so pretty). After consulting with A for an outfit and disguising the blemishes on my face to the best of my abilities, I told my mum I was going out to meet with a friend from university and made my way out.

I'll just transcribe everything as I told it to N1, to save time. And because I'm not exactly leaving a lot out. Only I'm sure I'll end up remembering more things in a while.

His outfit: a printed white t-shirt, a jacket (I didn't even notice), jeans, and whatever shoes he usually wears (thick soles, comfortable ones, not tennis).
So.. My outfit of the day: jeans, light blue converse, fake leather jacket, striped blues and grey t-shirt (with cool stripes, in zig zags). Make up? As little as I could to disguise the blemishes to the best of my abilities, and then some mascara, a tiny bit of brown shadow on my lids and some natural-looking lipstick (only patted on the lips).
I was 15min late to meet him in front of a BBC (Bogotá Beer Company) but when I got there and called he came up from behind me before I managed to text Ale to keep busy while I waited.
He asked where I wanted to go, and I was hesitant, but settled for coffee (I didn't know if he'd brought his car and he never drives if he drinks).
Turned out he hasn't, so he probably hadn't ruled out the alcoholic beverage angle... Anyway....
We walked around looking for a place that sold coffee and settled for a place I'd been to with Ale before. It's pretty. And it's not at all loud (which is a plus for me) because we got to actually talk.

He ordered coffee and I had some tea.
We talked, pretty much nonstop for a good while. Let me see... We met around 5:45 and I left at 7:20 or so... Just under two hours. Not bad when you consider we were done with the coffee and tea pretty soon and didn't bother ordering anything else.. We just talked... About school, about professors, about history, about classes, about astrology, about food and cooking, about my going away...
When it got dark, and since we weren't really ordering anything (and I was getting hungry but wasn't sure about the "how about we go otu for dinner now?" angle), I asked him if I should ask the waiter for the check, and so I did. After that we walked to a place where I could get a cab (getting a little lost in the process, that mall nearby is a mess), he hailed me a cab and we kissed (air kiss) goodbye. For what it's worth, I went for the kiss though I could've just waved...
That's about it, in so many words... Only I found it sexxy of him to know about history, and I kinda messed up saying I don't believe in astrology and he then brought up that his dad makes astral charts for a hobby, and I found it sweet that he hailed me a cab, and he smelled lovely, and I love how he smiles... (Boy, that was corny...)

Oh, I just might add a little something here... N1 wouldn't care, and I'm not exactly surprised, I love that he's a history nut, and I couldn't help but parallel his knowledge and the way he likes history with EBF's. Funny, eh? I'll draw the line there, I'd hate to think I fell for a guy like EBF (because I'd hate to find out LesMisGuy is a player, like EBF, mostly). It was just nice. Can't help but think they'd get along really well. EBF would approve, and for some reason it means a lot to me.

[8:39pm edit]
I knew I'd start remembering other things... There was a bit of talking about the future, you know? I mentioned how I'm not even sure I'm on the right tracks here, and he said he's known he wanted to do maths since he was in 8th grade. He also said he sees himself going off to live in France, which I reckon is easy enough to imagine (to be honest, I'd already pictured that for him), but for some weird reason was a little sad to hear. I'm not sure why, either. I just had this sense that he'll end up going away, and I don't really know where I'm going, where I'll be, but I felt that we'd be far away, and it means nothing right now but it made me a little sad. Just... odd...

Oh, I haven't mentioned all my fuck ups trying to remember what little I know about history. Turns out I fail miserably at remembering things and he knows too much to let it slide. I feel stupid, but I like that he knows so much. Here's the kicker. I like everything about him. And I really like how he said I'm weird, not so much for bringing it up, but for seeing me for me, however cheesy that sounds. I mean, he sees me for what I am, or it looks like he does, and he might actually understand me. If it turns out he likes me, it will mean he really likes me.

Ok, now I'm curious... he said he's a typical Virgo and I just have to check it out somewhere...

Modest and shy, says the first google result. Also meticulous, reliable, practical, diligent, intelligent and analytical. Kinda vague, but let's say it's fairly accurate (not that I know him or anything). Oh shit. Let's not get all caught up with this, but er... D bought the crap from the guy who read our angel cards, why am I relating the two now? Never mind. What else does google's first result say?

Fussy, worrier, overcritical, harsh, perfectionist, conservative. I might have trouble with conservative if it's a euphemism for homophobic, or in any way discriminatory, but otherwise we're all good.

Usually observant, shrewd (whatever that means), critical, judicious, patient, practical supporters of the status quo, and kinda conservative (yeah, you'd already said that). Emotionally cold on the surface? I think not. Careful to keep relationships superficial? I might need to worry about it if it's actually true. Not trusting his judgement? Yeah, also false. I'm not sure if this is a euphemism for insecure, and even that's doubtful. Outwardly cheerful and agreeable? Oh yes, very, for the most part. You mean the rest is his dual virgo nature? The bit that throws me off? Sensitive? Sounds like it. Discreet? Sure. Well spoken? Certainly. Wise and witty? Why, yes. With a good understanding of others' problems and a knack for solving them in practical ways? I wouldn't know. This practicality may not be evident in their own personal relationships. Yeah. I still wouldn't know.

Let's skip the bit about marriage, shall we?

Now, intellectually inquiring, methodical and logical, studious and teachable sound fairly spot on. Then again, they're also fairly ambiguous. May be too meticulous. See if I care. Practical with their hands, and yet they're not the kind to do hard labour. Unhappy with abstract reasoning? Not exactly good news for me, and then again LesMisGuy seemed fairly ok with me and my nonsense. Unless he was just being nice. Which I don't actually know. For all I know he was being nice going out with me at all. Back to the astrology thing, he's supposed to find philosophical concepts difficult. Not sure he would. He seems stubborn, yes, and that's bad for philosophy. But I doubt someone with his smarts would be that bad. Except J2 is that bad. Yeah. Shame if it's true, but I suppose I could live with it.

Not a good leader... Yeah, that's pretty much wrong. I'm sure he'd make a good leader. Should he choose to try and be a leader. He just might be lacking in the initiative department, which would be bad for a leader. But I juts might be reading into nonsense assuming he's interested in me and then I'm just making stuff up. A tactician? Oh, yes. Self-distrust? Again, I'm not sure. Potential in arts, science and language. Now they're just making shit up. They just said he'd be no good at philosophy, what do you suppose that means for languages and arts? A mind needing stimulus of practical problems to solve... yeah, sure, why not? Careful with money? Just might be too true. Deep interest in history... Spot on. Enough moral sense to not be a business douchebag? I do believe he has a good set of morals, if not an unimpeachable character. Love country life? Why, he mentioned he was told nature was good for him... High sense of hygiene and cleanliness? I figure it sounds about right. Too much modesty? Pretty sure it's wrong. Some made up words... Too good to be true so everything good turns out to be bad? He's certainly too good to be true. I haven't seen any of the bad come up yet. Surely not a worrier or a hypochondriac as suggested. Nonsense.

Huh... It just might sound a lot like him. I've got issues, but who am I to argue? Wikipedia says we're not compatible, but screw that. He's lovely. I really like him. I hope he likes me too... Oh, please let him like me. Please?

I think he had his haircut not long ago... He was looking particularly handsome today. Oh dear... I do hope he likes me... And now I'm actually confused. How do I know if a date is a date? How do I know if coffee means something? How is this different from a one-on-one meeting with a friend? How can I know if this is actually means anything? Does it mean nothing? Why wouldn't it mean anything? I'm just not sure here... I'll need to consult with EBF....

I had a dream about him last night, or maybe the night before that... I had a dream where he left me a message apologising for not having said anything the last times I left him drama queen messages. He said something like I was being a drama queen and he had to distance himself from it.

[12:17am edit]
EBF got back to me. He says coffee is just coffee and to calm down. I just may have to avoid the gals. They're really getting funny ideas in my head and I really shouldn't let them. Unfortunately, he doesn't really know where to go from here either. I'm starting to think the next step would be going out again. EBF suggests going to the cinema or listening to street storytellers. I figure the second option isn't exactly viable with LesMisGuy. Doesn't seem his sort of thing. So the cinema. Great. Now... I'm not too comfortable doing the asking again. Not without some encouragement on his part. I mean, I do want to go out with him again, but I don't want to come across as pushy or, worse, unable to read the "not interested" sign blazing on his forehead. He should, by all means, be the one to suggest we go out again. If not that, he could at least try talking to me often enough that I get the feeling he'll want to go out with me if I ask him. He definitely needs to put some effort into it. Right. Which he only will if he's interested. Which is sort of fucked up for me if he isn't, but a very rational justification for wanting to wait it out like I do.

I'm sorry, what is that all about?

I log in to facebook to find AOB's sent a message. What about? Well, he browsed around the maths department's webpage and found something about algebraic curves with applications in economics. He sent a link saying he wouldn't know but maybe it would help me.

Iffy.

I'm telling you...

Tuesday, 28 June 2011

This is my last auto-ultimatum, and that's final

Just on Thursday I was decided it was over and I had to forget about LesMisGuy already because he took so long to answer my text message asking him out. But he texted back. So I gave myself another ultimatum, if he doesn't get back to me to set a time and place I give up. Only I changed it. I'd text him again, if he didn't get back to me then I'd give up. After a minor pep talk from A and N1, I sent the text message today. For a while there was no answer. I was torn between wanting him to answer so we could just meet already and wanting him not to answer, so I'd be spared of going out in public with my crappy skin. It was a while of nothing and feeling sort of relieved of not having to go out and kind of upset at the thought that I had to give up for good. And then he called.

I couldn't even pick up right away because I was so busy being in hysterics. I picked up, though. He explained a friend of his was celebrating having his thesis approved tonight an he couldn't make it. However briefly I wondered if he would ask me to come with, but that would've been weird. Anyhow, he asked if we could reschedule for tomorrow, and I said it was ok. However briefly we talked about how I was packing, because I was flustered (I figure) and couldn't come up with a better answer to "what are you up to?". I may be wrong, but I thought I sensed a hint of nervousness of his side. I'm probably very right guessing he sensed my freaking out a bit, which just might have caused the slightest quavering on his part, only it was right at the beginning. Now I'm making shit up. Forget it. He called. We agreed he'll call again tomorrow and maybe we'll go out then. For what it's worth, that's another day's rest on the old face, see if we can get it to look better in another 24 hours or so.

Whatever happens tomorrow, I'll be tempted to be dramatic and decide it's another "now or never" situation. So I'm calling myself out on my bullshit right here and now so I can't decide to give up if I know nothing about LesMisGuy by some time tomorrow. I'll do what I can to try and be cool about it, no matter how much I remind myself of Leonard about to go out on a date with Penny.

- How do I look?
- You're going to have to be more specific than that.
- Can you tell I'm... perspiring a little?
- No, the crescent shaped dark spots under your arms conceal it rather nicely

I'm tempted to believe someone is arranging all of these outcomes to maximise the hilarity of my reactions. It does not cease to amuse me to find that whatever outcomes I manage to imagine are always out of scope. Today it was a meet today or forget about it approach (it never occurred to me that he'd call, leave alone reschedule). When I fancy someone I turn into a verifiable drama queen. Duly noted. Or perhaps I don't. I don't think I recall being like this with D. Maybe it's all the talking to N1, her irrational theatricality is rubbing off on me.

Insomnia, this is what it's come down to

Can't seem to be able to fall asleep at night. It turns out I'm never sleepy any earlier than 5am or so, I'm woken up (for good) around 1pm and even waking up earlier won't change the habit. You'd think I could work or study, while I'm awake and all, but I'm unable to. I actually stop, not knowing what new page to go to, knowing there's nothing new to be found on any of them. Which is when I'll turn to the mirror I keep around, and I'll obsess about the awful mess that is my skin lately. I'll worry that I've only X hours (X = 14 ± 1) to meet LesMisGuy, if I meet him, and I'll be looking like crap when I do. Significantly less like crap than, for instance, last week.

Nevertheless, I look like crap. People keep bringing up the subject. Like I don't fucking know. Mum's the one who's insisted I stop taking the pills. Today when I said it was because I'd stopped taking the pills (for only the nth time), she said I ought to be able to stop taking them and have good skin anyway. Yeah, that's not really the way hormones work, or the way anything that works under hormones (like, say, the fat glands on my face or whatever) work. Leave it to her to use nice logic like that. The kind of logic that brought you "it's good to light a candle to get rid of the smoke of a fire we only just managed to put out in the oven," ladies and gentlemen! Her idea of saving money is sometimes just outrageous. I'd hate to actually bring it up in conversation, but I know for a fact we're saving money by the day not buying food for my little one. See if any good comes of it. I know I've made some money that's all my own. When they ask to borrow some to help buy groceries and then return a third or less (I don't actually ask for the money back, to hell with it I say), it's fine. When I want to spend it in whatever way I see fit (minor whims, useful things, shit I might need), then I have to be more careful.

To go away on the trip for the seminar I've bought clothes (if only out of respect for the speakers I will not be wearing jeans and t-shirts, not until I see others do it). But I'll be having to share a room, so I also decided to buy a few more pants I can use for pyjamas. My aunt MT, bless her, offered to give me a pair as a late birthday gift (though I'd swear she's already given me something). So we go out to buy it, along with a few necessaries (mostly hygiene-related). My sister found cheap bras that fit her, so I told her to buy them. I'm waiting until I can go to an outlet where they have good bras in my size (which is not carried because they intend to have all women wearing B cups around here or pay twice as much for C cups, as if they were all that different).

Anyway, among the necessaries is sun screen, because it figures I just might need it. When faced with the price (not outrageous, just not cheap), mum suggests I consider my allergies. So you want me to use sunscreen that's been sitting around for fucking years, for the allergies? Oh, but she has some sunscreen thing at home (way more expensive than the option I was going to buy, she just didn't want to buy a new sunscreen). This one's for kids, mother! It will be fucking fine. Oh, and she wanted me to carry a flashlight. And so much useless shit. I'll be damned, but I'm not carrying more than I can fit into a small suitcase and something to carry around, and that's including two big bags of M&M's. Numerous jackets, blankets, and whatnots be damned.

Ok, that rant being down somewhere now, self-consciousness raging, I wanted to write about a film I just watched. Rather than try the usual internet nonsense, or even a TV show, I opted for watching a film. Browsing through the ones available, I ran into Rashomon.

At first all I had to go on was a brief description about it being a drama about different versions of the same story. Though I was more in the mood for Mary Poppins (only I didn't see it), I went for it. As the credits rolled before the film even began, I realise it's actually an Akira Kurosawa film. Huh.

The story was written in the 1920s, or something like that, I gathered from Wikipedia. It was adapted for film in the 1950s. Not exactly relevant, not until I learn some proper philosophy and manage to make sense of the time frames.

The story goes something like this. It's raining heavily, and a woodcutter is stuck in what's left of a building with a monk/priest and some other villager. The setting's in whatever time the samurai existed. There was a samurai who was travelling with his wife, and we're told he was killed. The interesting thing, then, is how his death is explained.

The woodcutter starts out by saying he was on his way to cut wood (bamboo grove or forest, depending on whether you're reading the story or watching the adaptation) when he found the dead samurai. He notified the police and thus people were brought in to hear their testimonies. There's a bandit, the samurai's widow, and the samurai's spirit, summoned by a miko.

First comes the bandit's story. He was found by a bounty hunger with the samurai's arrows (for fighting, not hunting), a sword, and the wife's horse. He claims he saw the samurai and his wife passing by, noticed the wife was beautiful, and made up his mind to rape her. Thinking it pointless to kill the samurai for this purpose, he tricked him, tied him up, and then had his way with her. He describes the samurai's wife as being fierce, willing to fight him with her dagger. Only he overpowered her and once he was done she said she couldn't live with two men knowing she was so impure. She said she couldn't choose for herself, and suggested they fight over her to death. The bandit then does the honourable thing, setting the samurai free before fighting him. Admitting to the samurai's skills, he takes pride in having been better and having managed to kill him. The samurai's sword? He sold it for booze. The dagger used to kill him? He forgot about it. Too confused. The widow? She ran away while they fought.

Then came the widow's account. Yes, the bandit tricked them out of the path they were on, yes he raped her. The bandit pretty much disappears after a while, which leaves her alone with her husband. He finds her disgusting, and she can't stand the way he looks at her. She sets him free. She offers to have him kill her and end her misery, but he does nothing. In the original story, she kills him, while in the adaptation she just passes out and finds him dead. She then tries to kill herself in several different ways, unsuccessfully.

When the miko summons the samurai's spirit he tells a different story. After his wife was raped he tried to calm her down. She wanted to run away with the bandit. The bandit was outraged and asked the samurai if he should kill his wife or let her live. The samurai forgives the bandit, based on these words alone (the bandit's and his wife's, I gather).The bandit walks away, the wife runs away, and the samurai kills himself. As he bled to death someone took the dagger from his heart.

Even as he tells this to the villager, the woodcutter calls bullshit on all the versions, having witnessed everything from the rape to the murder. In his version, after the wife has been raped, the bandit asks her to marry him. She refuses to make a choice between the bandit and her husband, but frees her husband. The woman points out they're both weak and they should prove their manliness by fighting for her to death. They fight, however unwillingly, and the bandit wins. She runs away.

The priest's involvement is reduced to having seen the samurai and his wife on his way someplace else. He remembers more arrows in his quiver than were found on the bandit. He knows nothing and is only confused, about to lose faith in humanity. The film ends with a crying baby being found where the three men discussed the samurai's death. The villager steals the expensive kimono and amulet left behind for the baby, and the woodcutter reprimands him. Only the villager knows the woodcutter was the one who stole the dagger, and calls him on the double-standards. The priest holds the baby. The villager leaves after mentioning how everyone's selfish and all stories are tailored to suit each person's needs. The woodcutter tries to take the baby from the priest, who is initially protective of the baby, only the woodcutter intends to adopt him. The priest gets some of his faith in humanity back, the woodcutter walks away with the baby and the film ends as does the raining.

Not sure what to think. Apparently, people side with one of the stories immediately, bonding with the emotions (not so much the facts) linked to each character. Me? I'm tempted to tie all the stories together and psycho-analyse the shit out of each character's motives in hiding and changing information.

I don't suppose this is a very good topic of conversation if I do meet LesMisGuy. Only it could be. It could just go south very soon and very badly and I'd be left feeling sheepish sooner than I'd like. I don't like to feel sheepish, but I know I'll eventually catch up to all the fuck ups. I'd just rather keep that until after I'm gone. If I meet him. Shit. Remember. That's a conditional right there... I don't know if I will. I want to... Yes. Even if I do, it means nothing and we have to be able to talk about something. Which probably shouldn't be Rashomon, only it could be. It definitely shouldn't be maths. Not serious maths, anyway. Not maths in any manner other than fleeting. Right. If at all. If we meet. If he writes. Or if he answers when I do. Right.

Oh yes, before I forget. The latest soundtracks: "Achin' Heart" by Pomplamoose



and "Waves" by Folded Light.



It would seem I'm on the indie wave. So much so I've even been downloading Sigur Rós (sp?).

Saturday, 25 June 2011

I need to get a grip

I sent LesMisGuy a text message. Tuesday's good. I'm leaving on Sunday. Haven't heard back from him yet. Must face the fact that I just might go without hearing from him and that, much like the first time I asked him out, this will all add up to exactly nothing. This is only reasonable. I mustn't get my hopes up. I mustn't get ideas into my head because there's a good chance that these things I'm imagining won't ever come to happen. Nevertheless, it's so hard to really accept this fact. Thoughts of kissing LesMisGuy spring to mind and it all seems so close, so plausible, so just-around-the-corner that my heart races, I flush, I feel a warmth I can't describe taking over me. When this happens it takes a fairly long time for the feeling to subside. I keep trying to get rid of the anxiety, and yet I can't.

I'm not sure what you're supposed to answer to the text I sent him, but we've yet to agree on a time and place, so anything the lines of "Where do you want to go?/Want to go to _______? Meet you there at _" would be good. EBF didn't answer. We were both online for a few hours straight, but he didn't write anything in response to my last messages telling him I actually did get an answer. It's his advice I want the most now. N1's telling me to dress up and make sure I look stunning. A's suggesting we go to a pub. The only thing I've settled for is waiting until Tuesday afternoon to send him a message: "Hey. Are we going out for drinks? Where would you like to go?". A reckons it's a good enough way to phrase it. I'd like EBF's second opinion, but right now I'm not pushing it.

I suppose it's a good thing, but I can't quite picture it. It's a good thing because I can't ruin anything that actually does happen with an idea of the way it should happen. I have to trust that it will happen, though. I don't know what exactly to expect from all this. I want him to write back. I'm hoping he knows I'm interested. I'm hoping he understands that my asking him out means a lot to me. I want to see him, talk to him, look him in the eyes, sit close to him. I'm hoping it will lead to having nice conversations with him, chuckling with him, laughing with him, touching him (if only brief moments of hands brushing against arms, or resting on them). I'm wishing it will somehow morph into longing looks and silence where kisses make up for not talking. I want him to hold my hand, kiss me sweetly, wrap his arms around me. I realise that if any of this happens, going away for three weeks can work wonders to ruin things.

Or not, because there might be nothing to ruin. Or not because we'd have an excuse to just talk and I couldn't get carried away. We'd have time to try and get to know each other, in the corny sense of the expression, and that would be good... Right? He's lovely, or at least seems lovely, and if things work out with him I'd really like a relationship. So I'd better get to know him better, let him know me, learn his quirks and embrace him for who he is. Rushing things is no way to do that, no sir. I let hormones get the best of me with D and look how that turned out... A sweet, short kiss just to reassure me couldn't hurt, though. We could always talk and kiss some more when I get back, right? After we talk. That should do it... He'd have to be a tiny bit more available, though. Online more often, if only to answer e-mails. Or swifter when texting back. Aaand I'm getting carried away. Forget about it. I want to be with him, yes. Badly? Indeed. No use fantasising about it now, though. Gotta give things a chance to happen on their own. And by that I mean give him a chance to write back so we can set a time and place.

If and when that happens, I lose it. Not before. Now let's see if I can do as I say...

Friday, 24 June 2011

Unrelated

Gay marriage is now legal in New York. Took them long enough. Even if it's so far away, I love the news. One more notch under equal rights and one big FAIL on intolerance. Awesomeness. Not enough just yet, but good way to go, eh?

Five solid minutes and counting

It would seem that sometime while I played Kirby, or Pokémon Stadium 2, LesMisGuy answered my text message. I've been shaking a little and sweating, and worrying about nonsense for 5 solid minutes. And I still can't manage to look at the actual message. I'd really like to have some kind of moral support for this. Fuck. I tried leaving N1 a facebook message. I tried sending A an IM (I'd text her except I can't even touch my phone right now). Such. A. LOSER. I'm telling you... EBF's not online either, and probably won't be until 2-3am today. And I'd already told him I got fuck all for an answer. Please let N1 get back to me. I need someone to cheer me on, and tell me to read it. I'm too much of a mess as is... I hate getting all out of control like this.

[a good while later edit:]
Took 15min, probably more, for N1 to answer. And send a virtual slap. And tell me to read it already. And for me to do it (which painstakingly was divided into unblocking my phone's keys, pressing "open" and then turning the screen to read it). He said he'd been away on a trip he just got back from (sometime around 7pm). How's Tuesday? When am I leaving?

I'll get back to him as soon as my ball-meter has time to charge a little. Which will be sometime tomorrow afternoon if I try to keep it appropriate. Right.

I feel like one of those fucking lame female characters in old novels, the kind who faint whenever they're too excited, or nervous. This. Is. So. Pathetic. (and that's not my computer with asthma, that's me in a mild panic attack.)

No, wait. This is more pathetic. Tonight's blog post was supposed to be about how I've been thinking of LesMisGuy and how the thought of kissing him keeps breaking into my head, even when I'm thinking of walking, eating, or buying groceries. And I was going to talk about how I had to knock sense into myself and slap the thought away, reminding myself yesterday was my ultimatum and I had to give it up already. Such a drama queen. I'm hating this side of me so much.

Bloody murder

Woke up relatively early today. I gave ThPr my phone number because we'd agreed to meet, but he never wrote back on time, by the time he did we rescheduled and then had to cancel. He called a half hour ago or so. I was very tempted to just leave my phone turned off. Goodness knows I'd rather not get calls or messages because it's off than because LesMisGuy's not interested. All about having some sense of control, I believe. Mum wants us to go buy Chinese for lunch. I'm not hungry just yet, and I'm starting to prefer staying home and doing nothing. I just needed to write down a bit of last night's dreams.

In one dream, EBF's parents had been murdered. It was a personal vendetta, if you asked me. An uncle of his mentioned how they were pretty much broke and they would've liked to make an investment but would've ended up even worse up their necks in debt. He said something about how EBF and his sister would be left with that on their hands. In my dream, EBF lived in an apartment next to commercial spots. The building itself seemed to be made of apartments, but on this particular floor some chinese man had a photo booth (and a rather large one). He was successful, too, it would seem, as I remembered part of it being empty, then under construction, then in business. I only knew the man as the neighbour, but I needed info, so sometimes I'd drop by and ask for him to talk to.

In another dream I was on a stage with some of the cast from glee (I can only remember Cory Monteith, Naya Rivera and Dianna Agron right now), as well as random strangers. The stage was fairly high up (no less than 2 stories) above the crowd (and boy, was there a crowd). On stage with us was a man in a beard, not too unlike a vagrant, with a guitar. After we all sang a song to bid my friend Gb goodbye, each of us singing a part of it, the man with the guitar started to sing "More than words."



I sang quietly in the back, so he asked me to join him at the front, but I refused. Someone else sang with him.

Possibly tying the whole thing together, there's an image of the last couple of floors in a 10-story building. A kid who used to go to school1 lived there. As I remembered in my dream (to be honest, I haven't a clue in real life), his parents had been killed. To be honest, the physical resemblance between him and EBF can't be ignored. I'll carry on, though. The apartment seemed to be pretty much empty, except for posters on the windows here and there. The young man bellowed so loudly the windows swung on their hinges. I don't know if he was trying to sing. I know he was loud but I can't remember the sound.

Thursday, 23 June 2011

3 = aleph-null (or should it be Omega?)

Third and last time I ask LesMisGuy out. Sometime around 3 my sister suggested we try playing ZOoT, so we set camp on my parents' bed and I made sure to bring my computer and phone with me. A while after 4 I made my way to the kitchen with my cellphone and sent the text message: "Hey, how are you? If you get tired of doing nothing during the vacations, want to go out for a drink?".

I'm such a loser.

I freaked out about sending the message, but manned up and sent it. Then I went back to play Kirby (ZOoT is no longer working, a shame). We got tired and decided to make cupcakes. So, 24 cupcakes with pink buttercream icing, pink fondant flowers and purple sprinkles. So girly. Very amusing. Surprisingly fun. Not that nice-tasting, but very pretty. Must change the cupcake batter for next time. Instead of going out with LesMisGuy, as I might have hoped, I baked and decorated cupcakes. And possibly ruined a new sweater (which I'd worn just in case LesMisGuy answered). I splashed melted butter on it rather inexplicably, and did what I could to wash some of it off with mild soap and wet towels. Mum saw it and told me to give it her to clean with warm water (which I feared could shrink it) in a basin. She claimed to have washed the basin first, but next thing we know the sweater's looking patchy. Fuck. Might be ruined. We washed it with just water after my mum insisted on washing it in the basin (to my dismay, and my sister's), and threw it in the washing machine. It's been drying on a towel for a while now. We'll see in the morning...

I hate that possibly looking good to go out with LesMisGuy turned into ruining a brand new sweater. FML, eh?

I'd be proud of myself for having tried it anyway, but I'm all out of balls and I feel that I wasted the last bit I had left, so that's nothing to be proud of. I hate wasting anything. So there. I wasted balls, I wasted courage (which N1 so brilliantly described as doing the things you're afraid to do), I wasted time, and I'm feeling shitty. I'll be resorting to make up tomorrow. Maybe try a dark green and gold on my eyes. Or pin-curls. Again. I need distractions.

Fuck, I'm an idiot. I could've gone without asking, couldn't I? I was already thinking twice about it, what with the rain and all, but then it cleared. Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

Cue, GregoryGorgeous (my new internet gay love): You know what, linaThumbe asked LesMisGuy out and got NO. FUCKING. ANSWER. I don't even KNOW. I just... I don't even KNOW.

Tuesday, 21 June 2011

Boom, baby!

I just nailed the Emma Watson look. It will look better when I don't have so many pimples, but I nailed it. I'm so proud... It's a waste because I had to wash it right off, but it was good. I just need something better than lip balm to act as eye primer. Or much thinner layers. We'll see.

Beauty and the beast

I had a very peculiar dream last night. A good deal of it had to do with my little one, only in my dream she wasn't black and white, but blond-cinnamon coloured. I knew it was my last day with her, her last day alive, and I wanted to be there for her. I wanted to pet her, kiss her, and just show her by all means possible that I love her. I was at the apartment we used to live in, high up by the sea, and she wanted to go out for a walk so I made to leave. I let her lose and made my way to the lift, but she took the stairs. Some of the neighbours mentioned something being wrong with the lift and how I should take the stairs instead but I didn't heed them. Half-way down the lift stopped and I had to jump and move around to help it get to the first floor. It looked like a street downtown. A few people were hanging around in front of the building. I looked frantically for my little one but couldn't find her.

In another dream I had to go to the Beast's castle with a few others to go rescue someone, or to fetch something. Everything in the castle attacked us, and it was a bit like a video game. When we made it back out we met the Beast in his prince form. I may be mistaken here but I could almost swear I was Belle in that dream. I was supposed to fall in love with him, and him with me, but we were already quite late, only it doesn't explain why he had his human form back. The castle was a mess and when he asked if I'd come back to visit I told him I would and started thinking of all the cleaning up we'd have to do to get the castle back in shape. Also in that dream some part took place in a very long bus. All the seats were taken, and only 4 or 5 people were left standing up. We all knew one another. An old lady at the front offered breakfast (eggs) to two or three people she favoured. They politely declined, even though some of the others wouldn't have minded having the eggs, and she made to throw them away. Which is when someone (a woman) confronted her about her bias.

Don't remember much about this dream, except for the Beast being one of the people standing, looking out one of the high windows. And someone going into the bus asking for him. Whomever was looking for him said he was looking for a strong, tall fellow. So he asked a few of the tall guys around (which included D) to say who they were. Not sure if the Beast actually revealed himself but when he was asked (because R1 pointed him out), he said it wasn't him.

In another dream and another bus, I got on with my family. I got to sit next to my sister and choose whichever seat I liked from the rows of 3-4 seats. I saw LesMisGuy and sat next to him. I tried making small talk, but I don't think it went very well, though I can't remember any of it. I asked if he'd maybe like to come for a few days to where I'll be for the seminar, but he said it was too much of a hassle and really didn't feel like making the trip. He was a little apologetic, and like he actually wanted to go, but I'm not sure now.

The last dream I remember involved A driving a car, a red car, perhaps. I remembered the dream where she crashed cars and worried that it might come true.

*le sigh*

EBF remarked on my having given up on regular sleeping hours, being up at 4-5 am today. We started talking, which led to me telling him I forgot how to fall asleep without my little one, so hee suggested I get a replacement dog. I said I won't get a dog until I know it's not a replacement. He suggested I get some other warm body to be around expressed, as he has before, his worries about the fact that I don't have an active sex life. He asked if I'd consider AOB in the event that he actually does have a thing for me and I had to tell him no, because there's nothing about AOB that screams sex appeal to me. So he asked what it takes for me to like a guy. And I told him.

He said I was pretty much waiting for Prince Charming, which I countered saying I'd be uncomfortable thinking that way about a guy who wore sparkling lip balm. Now that I think about it, it's not exactly true, because I don't actually require handsome or particularly good-looking. Manly in the form of a nice beard, a broad back, and strong arms will do. Non alpha-male isn't all that hard. Anyway, AOB isn't the one, and I'm not about to try flings or one-night-stands, which leaves LesMisGuy alone until I meet someone new. And EBF admitted this time it didn't look too promising.

Having been unable to do a single useful thing all day except for cleaning up a bit and changing my bedsheets. This, of course, means I've been browsing the internets, which almost inevitably means checking facebook. I ran into a picture of LesMisGuy. He's there with some other guy, they're standing next to each other, maybe a hand on a shoulder here and there. While possibly not the best picture of him, it got my heart racing and all I could think was Goodness! He. Looks. *Gorgeous*! Got me thinking about what EBF said, and how things with him working out is not exactly looking good, but I'm quite determined to ask him out.

I have to see this through. I have to give it one last try before I give up altogether. I'll ask if he'd like to go out for a drink. Could be coffee. Could be something else. If it's something else I can always go for a glass of Bailey's or a piña colada, right? As long as I don't drink more than a glass I should be quite alright. And yet it could be nothing at all, because who's to say he's interested in going out with me, leave alone interested in me? If I had to judge by our last conversation, I'd be inclined to think he'll say no. I'm thinking about this too much. I shouldn't. I should just ask him out and wait for things to unfold. I'm just worried about what might happen, or might not happen.

It probably has something to do with having spoken with EBF about it, or it might be something completely unrelated, and to be blamed on hormones alone, but I've been thinking of kissing him a lot today. I've been thinking a lot about kissing him, and I've been thinking about kissing him a lot. I can't seem to fill in the huge blank, so in my mind after we go out and just after we say goodbye I'll ask if I can do something silly (or perhaps won't ask at all) and I'll give him a kiss on the cheek before I make to leave. He'd then be shocked for an instant or two and call me over arguing I can't do something like that and then go away. To be perfectly rational, which is not how it works (I should know), I can only see two outcomes to kissing him: either he likes it and he reacts positively, or he dislikes it, stays puzzled and I have to leave before things get even more awkward. I can't plan further than that, so I can't even imagine him going for a kiss after stopping me because I figure this sort of situation would merit a conversation.

For me, it's not clear what any of it could mean and I'd need a clear statement of whether he's interested in just kissing me then and there and forgetting about it, pursuing a friends with benefits approach to it, or asking me to be his girlfriend. I may be missing grey areas, but I know of no more middle grounds and I'd need to know before I get ideas into my head (which, funnily enough is exactly what I'm doing now). I'm not sure it would have helped matters one bit, but I should've been able to read the signs and figure D wanted nothing serious. I could've spared myself the trouble of making myself believe it was. If I'm perfectly honest, I don't know how to be in a relationship, but I'd love to be in one with LesMisGuy. I'd settle for friends with benefits or fling, should it come down to that, but only as long as it had a name and I could be certain of it.

I want the closeness. I want the human contact. I even relish the prospect of making him smile. The fact that being in a serious relationship with him is something I see as a bonus probably tells more about my self-esteem and my low expectations than it does about how much I'd like it. Or how much I like him, for that matter. I really like him. Oh boy, do I...

Saturday, 18 June 2011

Writing

I'm not sure where to start here...

I've been remembering all sorts of things from my childhood, for no particular reason. It's been a particularly inactive day, but it's not an excuse, just beside the fact. I'm bringing this up because all the things I remembered are storming around in a cumulonimbus above my head for a while now. I want to write at least some of it down and I can't seem to think of a good way to do so. Trying to write down any of it would be like pulling on the cloud and stomping on whatever comes out into a straight line. In an attempt to put it to words and put some degree of order to it, I'm bound to ruin some of it and put things together that weren't meant to be together, while possibly leaving a whole lot behind. The fact that I've never had a knack for words only makes things worse. If you won't mind, that's exactly what I'll do now.

You know how in school they ask kids to picture what they'd like to grow up to be? You know how kids get things they're supposed to be knocked into their heads from a very young age? You know what kids grow up to be, right? Actual grown ups. Not the ninjas, faerie tale princesses, cool firemen, Hollywood stars or dragons they hope to become.

A couple of things jump to mind from the time when I was in first grade. Once they had us partner up and draw one another on rolls of paper. We were then to paint over the outline our partners drew. I was a huge fan of the Barbie that came in a blue dress with flowers and had a blue bird with it, so I remember drawing myself with a huge blue dress, to the best of my poor abilities. On another occasion we were asked to make a picture of what we thought we'd look like 10 years later. I hoped to become a sylish, good-looking teenager, so I drew a picture of myself with jeans and a shirt long sleeves and ruffles. Come to think of it, it's far from being trendy and close to what you'd find on a dressed up night out at a trailer park. Almost unrelated, there was this one other event I remember. Our teacher was trying to explain how toasting bread works. She explained how the water made its way out of the bread while it toasted and asked us to show by raising hands which we thought would be heavier: the loaf of bread or the loaf of toast. I was the only one (in 25 or so students) to raise my hand to signal that the loaf of bread would be heavier.

The fact that these are the three that come to mind is almost poetic. There's the stereotype cool (and, dare I say popular?) girl I hoped to become, which makes my late obsession with all things make up related rather interesting. Then there's the princess persona, entitled by birth to superiority obvious to all, and as I understood it at the time entitled as well to a prince in shining armour. Now, to this day I take pride in having been the only one to know toast weighs less than bread. I liked that superiority. I liked to stand out as being the kind of different that makes you better than everyone else. I don't believe I ever bought into the "we're all special in our own way" crap, I wanted to be truly special.

Back then it was not hard for me to get easily distracted. I'd try to find patterns in the rocks they used to decorate the floors, in marble streaks, and even in the repeated patterns in bathroom floor and wall tiles. I'd find faces, animals, unicorns, wands, and people. I would even try and come up with stories to link them if I could, or stories to make background for what I'd just found. Well past what you'd call a young age I hoped something extraordinary would happen one day, like it so often does to main characters in children's books, to reveal just how special I was and set me on the path to my very special life. Back when I had no understanding of geography I looked at the mountains on the side of the road on the way to school and imagined a chinese princess riding a giant panda would come up and take me away to rule with her. When I started reading Harry Potter books I hoped to find I was, in fact, a witch.

Sometimes these fantasies were a lot simpler, and I'd simply wish for the cool american girl visiting school to be somehow related to me or friends with me, just because America was such a wonderful idea to me at the time. At other times I'd take on my hobby of looking at houses and trying to imagine what it would be like to live in them, and wondered how I could be friends with the interesting people I imagined living in the coolest homes. Sometimes I'd look at a mysterious building far in the horizon on the way to school (I was told it was a hotel, to this day I haven't a clue what it is but it was a large european styled building, not unlike an English manor) and wondering what would happen if I ever got there. Maybe it was a secret castle waiting for my arrival.

As a side note, I've always amused myself imagining what goes on in places I've never been to. There's a room in the castle's walls in Ctg I was always very curious about because you could see nothing in it. I settled for the theory that two wicked men were stuck fighting each other there and had been at it since the spaniards first arrived. My explanation for the place being hidden was that we weren't allowed to see the living dead like that and most people wouldn't want to anyway. Another crazy theory I had once is that statues held living beings, waiting for the right spell to bring them to life. And I believed symbolic statues had more meaning than they really had, making up complicated stories explaining how whatever was trapped in a given statue had earned its place as a monument. I even remember a very naïve belief that somewhere not so far were wolves, and I pieced that together from a bus that read "Help" "Forest" "(type of tree, also a place)" and I figured that if anyone needed help in a forest it was because of the wolves.

Then there are downgraded fantasies not of me becoming great, but of me witnessing something great. I'd wish I could see leprechauns, or somehow hire a house elf. I'd wish to somehow take a wrong turn and end up some place magical unknown to muggles. Sometimes I'd notice something completely ordinary and imagined of extraordinary stories behind it, like some black birds that sometimes sat on the fences around the last bit of the way to school. They reminded me of the white birds in the picture where the birds come out of a wallpaper and fly out the nearby window. Sometimes I'd notice patterns in the rocks thrown around the trees in school and notice patterns, so I imagined those were tiny trails left behind by leprechauns and faeries. I wondered if it was written in my destiny somewhere to find something truly wonderful, like a dragon's tooth, evidence of the existence of an unknown civilization, a magical artefact, a unicorn in the wild, the Loch Ness monster, anything.

For all I knew, I could be recruited as a power ranger, I could be a new card captor, I could be a princess, I could be a witch, I could speak with animals, or I could some day be friends with a magical creature. Maybe it was all a matter of doing the right thing, going to the right place, getting to know the right person, finding the right book or accidentally speaking the right words. I must admit I entertained the idea of finding God's true 72 (?)-syllable word for far longer than I should have, knowing that egyptian gods were given names impossible to pronounce.

Growing up a bit I settled for at least identifying in part with something great. Hence I looked for the Valar I was most like, or imagined alternate egos of magical nature related to elves or celtic goddesses. It's odd, if it's true that everyone has someone they look up to (as in, a real person), but I never had human role models. I still can't think of one. Not writers, not philosophers, not scientists, not artists, not family members (maybe a few of my cousins, but only some aspects of their lives), not my parents, not a teacher, not celebrities, not historical figures, not anyone. EBF's role models, for instance, include Napoleon and Alexander the Great. I just can't identify with any of them.

Worse come to worse, I hoped to be picked out as beautiful and be hired as a model or actress and become famous. If that failed maybe I could find a universal rule to achieve world peace (if I'm to be believed I glimpsed the thought once, while writing a letter to former president Bush to stop the war during Spanish class). Maybe I'd just find one big truth enough people wanted to know. There was a time when I thought any problem could eventually be solved if only I thought about it long enough. I figured some folks think faster than others, which accounts for why some become famous getting further along the thinking road, but the truth was out there and it was all a matter of searching long enough. I have to admit even now I entertain the thought of finding a simple answer to one of the biggest questions in maths, if only to get a big award and money enough to pay for student loans and some more education quickly and easily.

The problem with all this is that I'm stuck being me because, as Oscar Wilde put it so brilliantly, everyone else (likely enough including all the people described above) is taken. Kids grow up and their dreams grow down, it would seem. Or maybe it's just me.

There's actually a link sort of pulling this train of thought together. I didn't write much when I was little, but at a time I kept a diary I had to shred before I threw away because my mum was reading it, and I didn't exactly loathe writing assignments. Which is not, by far, the same as saying I'm any good at it. I try to be careful about it, especially about my grammar and spelling as well as sentence structure, and I'll even try to be cunning, witty, or amusing, but I don't have a way with words. I know I was very imaginative, but words come to paper, I don't think I ever wrote a good original text. I once won a contest writing a fable about a cloud and fire, but really it was just a variation on that Aesop fable about the wind and the sun. A Spanish teacher once called out a story of mine as good and read it for the class, but it was a crappy variation of the Neverending Story. I once wrote a poem about frustration (because the assignment was about anger and I couldn't do it) I'm half-proud of, and there's a small paragraph I wrote once in a sort of contest with EBF that's actually sort of emo which wasn't completely bad either. I'll borrow EBF's words: I have good sentences here and there, but the texts as a whole aren't good. I can live with that, I'm not a good writer.

What I can't live with is the fact that I can't seem to be any good at anything else. Not in a way that will help me make a living one day. I may be a good cook, but if we're honest I'm not going to be running restaurants any time soon. I may be smarter than the average person, but I'm not going to have a bright future in maths, nor was I going to have a bright future in any other career, I fear. I'm not what you'd call ugly, and I've even had honest opinions (EBF) telling me I'm pretty but I don't buy it and I know I'm far from making a living out of my looks. I could settle, maybe, for finding the love of my life and living humbly but happily ever after, and it doesn't look like that's going to happen either.

My hopes, as it stands, are reduced to not failing subjects, not wasting money, healing blemishes, talking to and spending time with LesMisGuy in case he can like me, and eventually having all papers ready to go away for the biomedicine thing.

It's odd then, that I was drawn to Microsoft Kids' Creative Writer. I basically just remembered there was a blue guy and that the program was built by Microsoft and googled my way to it. I don't believe I wrote anything much when I had it when I was little. I do remember how much fun it was, and how ingenious a design it had. Gave me the idea of going back to the nonsense parts. Maybe I'll start with little nonsense and climb my way up. Maybe I'll find dreams worth having and the habit of writing will make it easier to put them in words and getting me on the way to make them true. For what it's worth, and this is just one of those random patterns I seem to find which aren't really there, some times wishing for simple things (like finding LesMisGuy online to talk to) on the blog turn into little miracles in real life. Maybe putting other wishes to words, starting with the simplest ones, will be enough to get a snowball rolling. I want my active imagination back, so I'll try and start with silly stories, no matter how silly, and I'll move my way up, if only for exercise.

It annoys me, then, that having made my mind up to write and spark the old flame of imagination back to life I'm supposed to write my thesis, and I can't manage to stay put writing this post because every so often I'll open new tabs and check online nonsense for the sake of it. I worry that my rational side, which I was so proud of once, is not nearly good enough, and my bad side, the creative side, is the one I'm missing the most now. And I can't do much about either because all sides of me now have so much trouble focusing on any one task, any one thing, that I can't seem to get good at the things I'm good or bad at. Except cooking, only I really don't see that leading anywhere.

*sigh*

I'll leave a bit of crazy behind, should I feel like coming back to it. In an attempt to reconcile my idea that you can fish for lightning with Final Fantasy scenarios (such as the Feywood or the Sandsea) I came up with this: picture a desert covered by an ever cloudy, never raining sky. It's not particularly hot in this desert, but it's still very dry. For nurturing, plants crop together, rather than growing far apart as they do in real deserts, because rather than compete for resources they can form megastructures that attract lightning. Granted, I'm asking plants to be lightning resistant, and possibly even fire resistant, but it just might make sense for them to feed off of lightning, given as they're feeding off of daylight already. Now, I can't exactly ignore their need for water, but if it's always cloudy and the colossus grew tall enough I'm quite sure it would guarantee some condensation at the very top, enough to have it trickle (or pour) down the rest. Could be interesting. Don't know yet. We'll see.

Feeling iffy

It's been a couple of hours already and it hasn't worn off. AOB was here with a friend of his and her boyfriend. I asked my sister to tell a friend of hers to come over. I was tempted to ask A to come, but it might have been weird. I cooked pasta with aubergines, courgettes, tomatoes, basil, bacon and tomato sauce. On the side there was baguettes with pesto, olive oil and balsamic vinegar. For dessert, tiramisu spiked with Bailey's. It was all really goood (especially the tiramisu, I'll take pride in that). I had a good time all in all. AOB's friend's boyfriend was fun, kept talking all the time (leaving no room for awkward silences), and he made jokes. One major problem with him, though: raging homophobia. I'll let the stupidity (of Penny's regular bf's levels) slide. The homophobia I cannot. Dancing is so gay. The clothes worn by the characters in the kinect dancing games are gay. I asked what was up with the homophobia and told him to stop calling everything gay quite so pejoratively. He opted for calling things homosexual the next few times. New facebook friend nevertheless.

My sister's friend left. Then AOB's friend and her boyfriend left. AOB stayed. First he insisted in helping out with the cleanup and dishes, though the others had already helped quite a bit before leaving. The problem, if you'll allow the expression, is that he stayed even after my sister and I were quite done with the dishes. While my sister and AOB got the dishes to the kitchen and I walked the others to the door I took some time to pet the black labrador. Kept me away for a while. My sister came by to pet him too and I told her to tell AOB to stop picking stuff up. Then AOB joined me for a while while I continued to pet the dog. Such a sweet dog he is, it's a shame his owners don't take good care of him...

After a while of being done with everything and double-checking that there was, indeed, nothing left to do, AOB took a hint and made to leave. He kissed my sister and me goodbye. What's up with that? We never kiss. Maybe we did when we'd just met, but for all I know he's just like me and will avoid the air-kisses as often as he can. So we just wave. Always wave. Made me uneasy. Oh, but there's more to my paranoia: rather than just making his way out, he said he wanted to help me. I figured he was going to try and pay part of what I paid in ingredients, which I wouldn't allow anyway. Nope. He made me wait by the door as he got something from his car. A book. He showed me the cover. I mentioned I once had a small book of short stories by Oscar Wilde when I was little, not so different from the one he was presenting. He gave it to me and said he'd bought it because of something written on the back cover. I didn't really read. Haven't read it yet. I said I'd let him know when I get around to reading it. He said I didn't have to read it. I made a lousy joke about leaving it around for the dog to read, and thanked him. And then he left.

To be honest I was a little terrified that he might try something stupid, like stealing a kiss from me. Why the kiss? Why the book? He didn't buy it for himself, and if it's a loan it's a stupid loan because the book's new and I can tell it's new. It wasn't a late birthday gift, or he would've said something. I'm inclined to think it's more of a "thank you for dinner" gift, and yet it makes me iffy. Wait. There's more to it. It's weird that he kissed me because just last weekend when we talked on the couch I mentioned how everyone adapted to waving except LesMisGuy only him I don't mind.

I'm tempted to start a conversation with EBF. I want to tell him to please just answer "no" to the question I'm about to ask: is it possible or plausible for AOB to have a crush on me?

Just might if the feeling doesn't wear off. Feel guilty about using him like this, just to ask him for advice of such crappy nature. Not nearly guilty enough, though. I know he and AOB haven't talked in years. And still he's the best insight I can get right now into AOB's mind.

Thursday, 16 June 2011

Oh, good! Wait..

LesMisGuy's online. Awesome, right? Why am I still fretting, my heart racing, my palms sweating, even after 20min? Why can I only think of good ways to carry the conversation on only after I've said something that ruins it? Why is it so hard to talk to him? *Nazgûl shriek*

An hour or so of conversation, we talk about alcoholic beverages and about chocolate. He mentions cocoa beans are a drug before they're processed and turned into chocolate. I mention it might explain Willy Wonka and maybe now I sort of understand him. Then crickets. Absolutely nothing for 15min or so and counting. Shouldn't have been that bad, right? Then why did he just vanish? I mean, it is so like me to come out with random references like that, but it was so him to come up with a fun fact. I can't believe he can't even say "oh, I haven't seen that one, sorry". Because then it could've been easy enough to talk about the ones he has seen, the ones I've seen. Maybe move on to other films, the kinds he likes, the ones coming up (Harry Potter and The Hobbit, anyone?). Nope. Nothing. Shit.

That will be an hour of nothing. Even though I made a last attempt at conversation with a link to the world's most embarrassing dad. Right. I'll give up for today, then, I will.

So... 1:15am. Damn late to be reacting, isn't it? I had to ask EBF for advice, against my better judgement. He suggested LesMisGuy just might be a online game kind of guy. That's why he appears busy. That's why he stopped answering. I reckon it's a good explanation, but I wouldn't have minded a polite "I'll be going now, goodbye." Then I started thinking. Slowly processing the things said. I mentioned going out with AOB and his doctor friends. I mentioned drinking. I talked about the amusement of watching people buzzed and /or drunk. He asked what I'm like drunk. Wouldn't have a clue, but my voice goes funny for some inexplicable reason. I asked what he's like when he's drunk. Wouldn't want to see it, he says. He throws up and passes out. Kind of graphic, but straight forward enough, that's heavy drinking way beyond being just buzzed and regular drunk. I won't judge. He made a point of how this is not regularly the case, even though he actually likes drinking. Reasonable enough. So much on the surface.

Then I started thinking... you don't suppose he intends to see me drunk. Or for me to see him drinking. Do you? Do you suppose he was sort of hinting at us being together in a situation where alcohol was involved? I'll make no more of going out together than there is to it. But going out with him would be good, whatever it may or may not lead to. Is he contemplating going out with me? Curiouser and curiouser. Or mad and mad hatter. Or dumb and duberer. I don't really know now...

Another thing that crossed my mind is how similar to D he seems sometimes. Sometimes he'll say or act in ways that remind me of D. Not per se a bad thing. It's just weird because I'd made myself used to the idea that D is a sociopath and all his ways are sociopathic. Not necessarily true. In fact, I may be very wrong. I can't even put my finger on it. I might have to wait and try to pinpoint an exact moment. Maybe it's just me being paranoid. Like I'm being paranoid with the pimples. Only I really do look as if I had a unibrow.

I figure that if some aloe vera does its job, I should have only the red spots and a few visible bumps, easy enough to conceal with foundation and concealer. Decent enough to meet AOB and friends. LesMisGuy calls for better. So does going out with A. I want an excuse to try the Emma Watson make up (US Vogue, July 2011) but I'll need nearly flawless skin. I might need matte black eyeshadows, though. Should be easy enough to come across...

Officially a vain coward

Didn't have the guts to ask LesMisGuy out. My face is still acting up on me. I could care less if I could somehow conceal it with foundation, but it's pretty bad. Also? The pimples between my eyes, just above my nose, make me look like I have a unibrow. Hideous! I know, it's all about vanity, I know he's supposed to like for who I am or whatever. I can't do it, though. I feel insecure, and it doesn't exactly work wonders to make me feel courageous enough to ask him out. I'll feel self-conscious and it can't go well if I do. Fuck the goddamned hormones. Fuck my paarents' paranoia and unwillingness to buy the birth control pills. It's been two months already and it's not getting any fucking better. Might have to schedule an appointment to get my first ever facial cleansing in a salon, when I go to get a haircut. Fuck. You know what's also pissing me off? He could at the very least be online. We could at the very least chat, every so often. That way it won't be so ridiculously weird to see him next semester. If I see him at all, which I might just not.

Car crash, hurt dog

I had this dream last night that took place in Ctg, only it wasn't really Ctg and we could easily get back here. Here's the thing, a few of the girls I used to hang out with were with me and A somewhere on the way to school, and there was some sort of competition going on. We had to get some place else, heading back to the city, as soon as possible. I was in a car with A and she was driving, rather recklessly, I might add. She was all about getting ahead of the others, making way for her car where there was none. After a while, it resulted in her hitting her car against the one N1 and Tz were in. Nothing too bad, except for a scare. Only she kept on driving recklessly, until she hit them again in the rear, this time denting the trunk fairly badly. We kept on driving, no waiting for policemen or filing for the insurance. Next thing you know, A hit the other car again, this time so bad the other car actually turned counterclockwise, give or take 60º. It was bad. And yet it was as if nothing had happened. One of the cars was red, for what it's worth.

We had to get someplace downtown here, some reunion. It was about 3am and A suggested I call over Q in case he'd like to come along. I said we could wait until we were there and he'd be close by anyway. We made a quick stop by the place I lived in by the sea. Got the doorman to open for us and drove a little. In my dream, there were underground floors and an underground parking lot. We asked permission to go into someone's house, though just the cleaning lady and a dog were there. I noticed the dog, a male white poodle with silly clothes and bows called JC (just like my cousin's third son). I petted it, and thought it was a sweet dog. I called it to me so it would stay out of the way for a car to park. I noticed it had a limp. Its right hind leg was hurt. When the owner arrived, some woman looking not too happy to find strangers in her house, I tried to make a point of the dog's hurt leg. She didn't care. I felt bad for the dog, that its owners didn't care about him.

Tuesday, 14 June 2011

Coward

Making up excuses is not unusual in me. The fact that I'm doing it constantly lately is starting to get to me, though. I should be reading the physics book my uncle gave me. I should be working on my thesis. I should be trying to get a spot in one of those interview and psych-eval workshops mum suggested if I'm ever to be good at getting jobs. I should meet with the professor directing my thesis. I should ask LesMisGuy out. I should have gone out with AOB today. I should not have gone out with A and her cousin on Saturday (too late to switch, isn't it?). I should check my mail in order to see if I'm going away for the seminar and to see if I got an answer from (he needs a name, and yet he doesn't quite deserve one... ThPr, lest he end up sounding like a chemical). I should have called AOB to talk about watching Before Sunrise and Before Sunset.

And yet, as you might have guessed, I don't. I haven't read anything useful because I always turn to Twitter, the news, comics, online nonsense and television shows to distract myself. I tell myself as soon as I'm done with this show I'll start studying and then I find a new one. I tell myself I've got time, though I really haven't. I tell myself it's not so bad, only it is. I called my mum's friend to try and arrange the workshop thing, no spots left. I have to wait. I managed to e-mail ThPr, but I don't dare check if he's answered yet (which he most likely has). I keep putting off asking LesMisGuy out because the blemishes keep growing like mad on my forehead and refuse to heal. I went out with A on Saturday because she sort of insisted after I said I had no money, and yet I wasted it not really having much to talk about or enjoying the meal as much as I would've liked. I should have had the money my dad gave me to go out with A available so that when AOB called today I could've agreed to go out with him. Then again I could've chickened out of that too, given my level of self-consciousness.

I'm avoiding pretty much everything useful I could be doing with my life, and I'm not sure why. I suspect the fact that it seems I'll fail at everything I'm planning has a lot to do with it, and yet if I were any more rational or strong-willed I could've talked myself out of this self-fulfilling prophecy. I've actually been doing everything I can to not even move out of bed, except to go pee. I don't even crawl in the general direction of the physics book to try and read a little more, even though I tell myself I will. I keep telling myself I must. I tell myself I could wake up early and get to work, but instead I pull all-nighters and kid myself out of doing anything useful. First there's lunch, and then there's a little rest because I just had lunch. And then it's too late, it's dark and it's time to rest. So I do nothing. I can't even write this blog post without going back and forth between Twitter and Dexter. I go back to youtube knowing there are no new videos I'm looking forward to. I go back to guyspeak in case they've answered more questions I'd like to read the answers to. I check the news again, even though everything's looking so very bleak right now. I check facebook in case there's anything worth reading I've missed (that new Katy Perry video is horrible... Darren Criss with straight hair? looks horrible).

Not that long til daybreak. I'm not even properly sleepy or tired. I just can't stop watching Dexter, and it's not even that good a show. I'm just unable to work. I could exercise. I could eat better. I could at least take the vitamins I'm supposed to take to keep my hair from falling off. Maybe my skin will heal faster too. I can't keep putting off asking LesMisGuy out. I'm quite determined to ask him out on Thursday afternoon. It would really help to see him online, get to chat with him a little. Then my invitation wouldn't come so out of the blue. I've made up my mind not to mind too much until I've actually asked him out and know I've fucked up, no regretting it before I do it. I have to let my hopes down. Can't keep them up. Not healthy to daydream about kissing him. Not healthy to daydream about doing so much as holding hands because coffee, if coffee at all, is coffee at best and I should know it. I shouldn't be stuck wishing he'd take the initiative. I shouldn't let his lack of initiative hold me back.

Should. Funny word. I feel a coulda-shoulda-woulda coming, and I'm trying not to let it get to that. I really have to get around to actually doing things. I just don't know how.

As a side note... my aunt MT was here for lunch and a couple of games this weekend. While we played my mum made a remark about how my little one would've been sitting on my lap, her head resting on the table. It made me mad. I won't say I had to hold back tears then and there. It made me uncomfortable. I felt like my mum was somehow in the wrong for bringing her up. I don't like it when she does. It's as if she had no right to do so, even though I realise it's a silly enough idea.