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Saturday, 29 September 2012

The peaceful silence I miss

It's been a quiet day today and not for lack of activity. I just don't feel much like talking.. Admittedly, I only truly started growing quiet around 6pm, but that's not a point I'm willing to debate right now. I'm in a quiet mood right now (which may or may not interfere with writing.... I say not).

I was at the gym, bathed the dog and cat, went out for lunch, went to an amusement park, got all dolled up and attended a play. I'd call this the rich life. Rich people can afford to go places and fill their time with various activities. It used to be the case that I got a lot of time for quiet meditation in the bus. No such thing here, as I can't even do the equivalent while aunt A drives me and I couldn't do it either if I were the one driving. There's always something to do during the weekend and, as nice as it is to have plans and as much as I appreciate that they're trying to entertain me, it gets old. I want a weekend to do nothing other than stay in my room, not necessarily working.

TBC (sleepy)

[Morning after edit:]
All right, on to it. Where was I...?

Right, busy weekend. Busy indeed. Today's plans include family lunch and possibly going out to the park with LC4. Still not a lot of time to be by myself doing nothing in particular (though I really should be doing a lot of things). I don't know if it's the fact that we couldn't really afford it, but we didn't go out nearly as often or have quite so many weekend plans with my parents and I miss the inactivity. Whether or not this was the reason for my silence, I can't say. All I know is that yesterday I grew quiet and meditative even though I didn't have any particularly deep thoughts to think.

Yesterday night we attended a presentation of an Agatha Christie-inspired play. I've decided I don't really like who-did-it's: once you find out who the killer is, the book loses its charm and has nothing to offer. I'm not sure I phrased this very nicely last night when I was asked if I'd go ahead and read the books now that I'd seen the play. As for the play? I won't say it was bad, but I can't say it was brilliant. I understand that the characters are supposed to have a British accent. I don't understand why only some actors stuck to this idea. It was silly, really: either they all use British accents or they all don't. Only some did and out of those only one could really pull it off.

Other than that, there were a few rookie instants where an actor or three forgot the lines and stumbled on the wrong words, which was not so bad, and then there's the acting. Again, not bad bad but not exactly brilliant. Actually, come to think of it, the few plays I saw in university back home had a few quite talented actors in them...

As for what entertained my thoughts while I was quiet (certainly not the play, once it was over and not really the amusement park)... I remembered that night when we went horseback riding with the people from summer school. I don't know if I wrote much about it but I'll go ahead and do that now.

I was given a mare. All of our horses were tired from having been in some kind of parade or show during the day and my mare was an exhausted mare. The poor dear kept falling behind the others and would get whipped by the young man helping keep the horses from going so slowly. I wished I could tell her to go just a tiny bit faster, if only so she wouldn't get hurt (or so scared, the whip terrified her). At one point, when we were so far behind that there were no horses ahead of us for quite a long stretch, she broke into a gallop. All of a sudden. Not because she'd been hit, not because I did anything (I was having a lovely time just looking out into the night, the trees, the bushes, the lit houses along the way, the mountains...). 

She broke into a gallop, which caught me off-guard, and though I was a little scared that I might fall off (after all, it had been a very long time since I was on a horse and I don't suppose it had gone very fast then), it was liberating. I worried that my earrings would fall off, that my hair would get tangled, that I wouldn't be able to hold on to her anymore. And then I didn't. I just enjoyed the breeze, the otherworldly (for me) "wildness" of the speed, the freedom (Lady Godiva, anyone?), the fact that we were quite far apart from the others. If I remember correctly, I actually smiled with excitement.

It was that night that I first talked to SmTn, you know. A part of me started wondering if it wasn't all a very theatrical series of events, with him having noticed me horseback riding when I was least aware of the presence of others, when I was as "myself" as I remember being in a very long time. I wonder now just how much like the mare I am.

Thursday, 27 September 2012

In the name of rock n' roll but not really

As I tried to send in this week's biology review and tests (again, almost late) a thought suddenly struck me: it was the hug. 

I'm not leaving you in suspense like that, it's distasteful. But I might as well attempt to say "I'm still thinking of LesMisGuy" in a more interesting way. Case at hand? I suddenly remembered how I wrapped my arms around him and nested my head between his neck and his shoulder. It occurred to me that I crossed the line. Some line. I tried to argue back "he was going to finger me" and I reckon that the hug might have been more intimate if he'd been into it (well, fuck me running, like they say: I can't for the life of me remember). *sigh*

Suffice it to say, on that subject, that I stopped to slap myself a few times after the fact and still (of course) feel like shit thinking about it.

Can't say it had anything to do with my choice of activity for tonight. When I was done with everything academic I played around for a bit and settled for watching Stand By Me, a suggestion of SmTn's. You see, last time we talked (a week ago) he mentioned the film because he sent me a link to a rock n' roll song and I told him I'd have to get started on a playlist. One thing led to another and Ben E. King led to this film. I can see why he likes it. It has everything And a River runs through it had (except for the fishing). The comradeship (huh, so that's a word... and here I thought it was called comradery) is there, the natural settings are there, the deep character is there. Can't say I'm a fan myself, but major props to the fact that it's based on a Stephen King novel. 

I feel like I have to confess that I wondered for a bit too long if SmTn was anything like Chris when he was little and then I couldn't remember if he mentioned having siblings. It won't be a secret when I state my adoration of the fact that him liking Stand By Me and Amélie aren't mutually exclusive events. Oh, the nerd in me

A little desperate for human contact, I've made a new acquaintance who either happens to be a lot more interesting than anyone I've run into so far or is really very scary in how he came up with the persona he shows me. Just a random guy from an online drawing game. Calling him Drawer could work out just fine, so that's what I'm going with. Drawer had no problem mentioning gay friends, or even one of said friends' ex flirting with him. I sighed a sigh of relief when I read that and was glad to hear him talk about musicals like Les Miserables. We actually had a fairly decent conversation yesterday, the likes of which I can hardly remember anymore. Part of the conversation wandered into the as yet unmentioned (I think) sadness I get when things go missing (especially old things) and when trees are cut down. It was just a refreshing conversation. Haven't heard back from AOB in a bit. Haven't seen EBF online since forever and am feeling like a true cavewoman and a hermit. 


I just had to:

Monday, 24 September 2012

I can't take a compliment

Biology lab today. Hadn't bothered mentioning him until now, but there's one half-interesting looking young man in my statistics and biology classes. You could say he's the person I see most often in college, in more than one way. On the one hand he's the only one in three out of the four classes I'm taking. On the other, he's half-interesting looking so I'll admit I let my eyes wander his way often enough.

Truth is, at first he reminded me of LesMisGuy. I would have written a post about a vivid fantasy day dream I had where I go to summer school next year and LesmisGuy and SmTn are both there and LesMisGuy greets me with a peck on the lips and I tell him to have a cup of coffee with me later and spend the bus ride with SmTn, if for no other reason other than he'd make a great human pillow. Instead, I just had to write about this new guy, who we'll call... MrInteresting? Sirinteresting? Sounds like syringe. MrInteresting it is.

I work in the lab with three other wmen because that's where I sat the first time and it's nice enough that I won't bothere switching. Behind me were the samples. As I poured some yeast solution into a measuring cylinder he stood behind me waiting and watched me pour. When I was done, he said "steady hand" and meant it as a compliment.  

I. freaked. the. fuck. out.

Just a meaningless everyday sort of thing, right? If anything, it's a great ice breaker and it should have been a nicce way to start a conversation with him. Goodness knows I could use someone to talk to and interact with and he looks about right for the part. If I were to exaggerate extrapolate a bit, we could make argument that it was a form of flirting. Want to know what I did?

I fumbled, smiled nervously and went back to my seat as quickly as I could. I could have at least mumbled a polite "thanks" but  I didn't. He startled me but I could have said something, you know. I could have been nicer. What short-circuited me was the compliment. If he'd said anything else I'm sure I would have talked (if only a little bit). I'm terrible with compliments. I can't take one.

So there. An elaborate post about nothing truly post-worthy (except pretty much nothing in this blog ever is). An elaborate post about something I've already written about. An elaborate post about the guy who reminds me of LesMisGuy to focus on anything other than LesMisGuy to write about. 

What is the matter with me?!

Nicer post coming up later

Rare occurrence indeed. Aunt A just came into my room to apologise for less than far from stellar behaviour. We were in the car. We'd just picked LC4 from school and she was trying to merge into the street straight into the left lane because she makes a u-turn a little way into the street. She was taking her time because cars kept coming from different streets and turning into the one we wanted to merge into. So far so good. Until the car behind her honked. Then she exploded and got all kinds of furious. 

I gently suggested that next time she try merging into the right lane and taking another u-turn farther along the way, giving her time to have the oncoming traffic to let her switch lanes. She transferred the rage from the impatient driver over to me, as if I were suggesting that the driver was right to honk at her. She even implied that my suggestion meant driving like a crazy person and she wouldn't do that with me and LC4 in the car. That's about when I decided to shut the fuck up and look straight ahead. A short while after that (and I do mean, just a few seconds) I felt my facial muscles tense up. I could tell because I noticed I was actually making an effort to keep a straight face. It's strange because I didn't know if I wanted to smile (which would have angered her even more) or if I just wanted to reflect how upset she'd made me. As soon as we got here I got LC4 out of the car and bee-lined for my room, where I've been sitting in bed for a while. 

She came in to apologise for exploding like that. I nodded and remarked that I was merely suggesting an alternative to be maybe tried out. She talked a little more and then left. I stayed here. I would have written another post but I'm still a little upset and that's not a very nice mood to write the other post in, even if it's just a transcription of what I wrote by hand in my notebook. 

IWL = I'll Write Later

...and dreaming about it

The thought wasn't haunting me enough, so I had a dream about LesMisGuy. Well, including LesMisGuy. In the dream I was just in university, back home, where I'd joined some kind of group to do something. I don't know what the group was or what it did but we met and had to go places together. I'm not 100% sure whether or not LesMisGuy was in the group, but I dreaded going in the car with the others because he might be there. 

Later there was a part where I'd dressed up with a skirt and a tank top. I knew I looked pretty ugly because I'd sort of just thrown it on. I also know I looked pretty ugly because I worried. And, of course, I worried because LesMisGuy saw me. I was walking down some black steel stairs (incidentally, the stairs I was thinking of go up where I dream-walked down them... they also turn right and in my dream I went left) when I noticed there was a group of people by the stairs and he was in it. He was greeting some girl (cue wildly inappropriate jealous moment) and I opted for going as fart to my left, behind the group and hidden from his sight, as was possible. A little while later I had to rush back the way I'd come, while changing my clothes (by then I inexplicably(?) had some leggings under the skirt and short biking shorts under that). I very unsexily ran and skipped and hopped, trying to get rid of the leggings and the skirt, acutely aware of the fact that LesMisGuy might be seeing me. That's when the thought struck me: that I was actually kind of cute and it was on him if he didn't notice. 

The thought struck me now, following on the "is it my fault?" line of thinking: if he did nothing wrong, what a bitch I was to avoid him like the plague and run for the hills whenever I saw him. But, come now. He didn't reach out to me. He didn't try talking to me, texting me, not to mention asking me out again. Even though by then it was a sure thing. Even though by then we'd kissed. We kissed. Doesn't that deserve more than silence? Didn't it mean anything to him? What kind of response could I expect if I'd tried talking to him one last time after the "maybe some other time" answer? Was I wrong to think it was a positively mortifying reply? Was EBF wrong when he confirmed my suspicions? Why didn't it work out? Why don't I get closure? Why do I keep thinking about him, dreaming about him, daydreaming and fantasising about him?

Sunday, 23 September 2012

You know I think about it too much because I'm still thinking about it

Last night I had a dream about a blonde girl in her teens who had some sort of medical condition that made her feel much more comfortable in water than out of it. So, she didn't have a room in her house: she had a whole (big) pool for herself and she'd spend her time there. I stopped to wonder just how much you can do in a pool without getting bored, but this girl lived for it.

On another subject, a thought has been bothering me. Of course, it's LesMisGuy. Again. Or shall I say, still. Here it is: he technically did nothing wrong. He talked when I talked. He said yes, just "maybe some other time." It was rather a matter of what he didn't do. It was the silence. I took his silence to mean "I'm just not that interested" and let the thought of us together crumble over the weight of how great it seemed in my mind and then the fantasy rubble crushed me. He didn't do anything wrong. Could it be that I  did something wrong? What was it? Was I supposed to insist again? Was there something I failed to do or say?

I really should stop myself short right there. I'm going to go mad.

Saturday, 22 September 2012

Clinger

Failed to mention I had a dream where aunt A and I went to a magical resort where they sold gillyweed by the fancy glass vase and pretty coloured bonbon-shaped doses. It was somehow underwater and we were supposed to just breathe water, like you do. Aunt A and I were trying to set apart a little house for just the two of us while making reservations for two larger houses for others to stay in. I know not who these others were.

I, uh... LesMisGuy. Still in my mind. That's all I wanted to say, but now I have to elaborate. We were out for lunch with LC4. At one point to call for attention he held my cousin's chin in his hand and gently turned his head to him (and the game he was playing). I'm pretty sure there's something wrong with the pronouns in the last sentence. I won't re-write it. I was stuck remembering LesMisGuy gently...

Here I am, trying to think of a nice way to say he put his fingers under my chin and turned my head to kiss me and the feelings just overwhelm me.

Imagine being at the beach, enjoying a small wave coming your way only to have a big wave crush violently on you, leaving you covered in sand and guck (spellchecker refuses to admit this as a word, I'm coining it). There I was, remembering something that was glorious and almost too perfect when I suddenly feel like shit and can't stop it. 

That will be all. I need to sleep.

Wait, one last thing: fuck Blogger. I liked the old interface better. 

Thursday, 20 September 2012

Thanks for being lovely, SmTn

Biology test scores are decreasing... still have an average above 90% but if it keeps creeping down to 80% I might not be able to bring the grade back up again. Damn.

Dreamwise, I've forgotten to write down other dreams but I woke up to a particularly uncomfortable one about my student who looks like LesMisGuy. Basically, he kept asking me biology related questions and I corrected him but I kept thinking "he looks just like LesMisGuy, he looks just like LesMisGuy" and getting caught up in thoughts of LesMisGuy and how much I like him. Very inappropriate student-teacher behaviour.

In case you couldn't guess from the title, I spoke with SmTn yesterday and he made my day. Oh, how I missed talking to him. He's my bastion of reason and loveliness wrapped up in sweetness. It was a lovely event and I hope it won't be so long before we get to talk again.

Also dreamwise, I seem to remember a dream where I had a pet hamster and it died. It was rather traumatic.

Wednesday, 19 September 2012

Et, maintenant...

Maintenant dit ma tante A que je lui crois stupide. Je n'ai rien comme ça dit. Elle venait de me racconter une histoire d'incroyable sur les voisins. L'homme qu'ils ont vu était chez eux, en cherchant quelque chose. Ma tante dit que mon oncle dit (ouais) qu'il cherchait des narcotiques. Porquoi?, vous demandez. Parce qu'ils sont jeunes et ils sont souvent éveillés trop tard dans la nuit et ils ont des amis qui sont venus les voir. Je lui dit qu'elle exagére, qu'on ne peut pas le dire sans savoir, mais pour lui il est tout évident. Le bruit qu'on écoute (personne sait d'où), c'est à cause d'un labo d'amphet. Il est tout raisonable pour tante A. Elle m'a dit que je lui crois stupide et j'ai répondu que c'est pas vrai, que je n'ai rien comme ça dit. Je lui ai dit de qu'elle toujours pense à l'impensable, aux pires cas possibles (mais, je n'ai lui pas dit ça des pires cas). Elle est sortie il y a presqu'une heure de ma pièce et elle n'a rien dit d'aller au gym, o d'aller faire des achats comme ce matin. Il est tout bien pour moi, je peux bien vivre sans ça, mais la relation devient difficile. Vraiment difficile.

Ai je dit que je lui crois stupide? Non. C'est elle qui l'a dit. Maintentant, bien que j'ai lui dit que c'est pas vrai, elle le croit. C'est à cause de ça qu'elle n'est pas venue me chercher pour sortir. C'est à cause de ça qu'elle appelle ses amis au téléphone. Elle ne va pas fonctionner, la situation avec moi ici. Ça ne va pas. J'ai pas des amis, j'ai seulement ma famille et ils (touts les deux, ma tante et mon oncle) sont fous. Je peux essayer d'être raisonable, mais je n'ai pas la patience pour continuer avec cette pendejade mimée. Je voudrais parler avec mes cousins, mais, qu'est-ce qu'ils peuvent me dire? D'attendre? De ne rien dire? De sortir? Quelles sont mes options? Peut je retourner chez mes parents? J'ai pas de l'argent. On a besoin de payer mes études. J'ai besoin de travailler et maintenant mon meilleure option pour ça, c'est rester ici et obtenir mon nouveau titre. 

Avant venir ici, je savais déjà que j'aurais besoin d'aider nettoyer la maison, d'accompagner ma tante, etc. Je sais être independente, je sais être utile, je sais d'aider, d'attendre, d'avoir de la patience. Je ne savais pas qu'ils étaient fous. Je ne savais pas qu'elle était si dépressive. Je ne sais pas  qu'est qu'on fait avec ça. Je ne peut rien dire à mes parents. Ils s'inquiéteront pour moi. Je ne veux pas ça. Ils sont des saints pour moi maintenant. Spécialement ma mère. Je ne peux pas les décevoir.

Tuesday, 18 September 2012

The saddest thing

I've been keeping to myself lately, under pretence of studying. Granted, I actually have studied a lot, but I do take a bit of time off to play, check facebook and otherwise waste time. Mostly I do it to be by mine lonesome (double checked, Google fails to find expressions like this, I'm coining it as my own then). I missed it. Also, being around aunt A gets... well, I can think of plenty of nicer ways to spend my time.

She's catching up, methinks. Yesterday I declined and offer to go run errands with her. Today I failed to have lunch ready. We had tamarind pulp from last week, which was a pain in the behind to get. I'd suggested making chicken with it. Mine was lovely: I added butter, brown sugar, just a wee bit of salt and a little chopped ginger. Aunt A and uncle A don't like sweet and sour, or sweet with their savoury for that matter, so theirs was just cooked in the pulp with nothing other than a little salt and pepper. It can't have been so bad, but mine was nicer. Nonetheless, aunt A made grimaces and poured herself lots of that should-be-forbidden remoulade to mask the taste. She'd had tamarind juice once before and somehow thought it was a sweet juice. I might have been a bit condescending when I pointed out it was of course a sour fruit. I then beelined back to my room to work (and play) some more. After a while she came by to tell me about the car having a flat tire. (Not really flat).

It's been bothering her for a while because the car will show a  warning without actually saying which tire is low, and they're not so very low so you can't quite tell. Uncle A supposedly changed the tires last weekend. They're low again today. Aunt A asked if I'd mind terribly going with her to put air in the tires. It's technically something she can do by herself now that she knows the gas station with the easy to manipulate air compressor, but she asked and I said I'd go. She asked if I'd mind terribly and added "of course you mind" and I just told her to let me change back into clothes that weren't pyjamas. She didn't turn on the music or talk the whole way to the gas station. To me, it was a relief. I was quite dreading  the conversation and the awful, awful, music. I take it, though, that she must be upset with me for some reason or other she will not tell me and it must be something that happened sometime between this morning and this afternoon, so I can only guess it had something to do with lunch. Well, fuck. I even washed the dishes.

The actual sad part is, when I got back (she said she'd drop me off before going to run more errands, which she was visibly upset about being late to) I was only just too late to catch SmTn online. And it was the saddest thing.

I could write about how the biology instructor made me feel like shit with a couple of e-mails exchanged. I could write about how sad it is to live under the charity of one as selfish as aunt A because I'm now growing certain that she thought I'd be some kind of asset to her I'm not quite living up to. I'm sad that I couldn't talk to SmTn. I'm sad that after being around the computer all day, after so many days without talking to him, he was online for the first time in a very long while and I wasn't there. I may be overreacting, but even his farewell sounded sad when he realised I wasn't there. 

Sweet man, I'm here. I'm so sorry I wasn't there during the half hour that you were online. I actually miss talking to you so much, you know? It's not just me craving human contact, either. I hope we can talk tomorrow. I so do.

[8:27pm edit]
Oh, the compounded wretchedness! I put on my indie music playlist, to take a breathe from Philip Glass (which I imagine aunt A can't be too fond of) and when "Waves" came on I turned to my computer, anxious. It's my alarm to let me know that SmTn has logged in and I was so incredibly disappointed to find it was just the song in the playlist.  You should have seen me. I lit up just at the sound of it. It was a reflex. A Pavlovian response. Oh dear... 

Friday, 14 September 2012

Told ya

Aunt A ended up going shopping with her friends yesterday afternoon. She got more make up. She only offered the left over I-don't-want-them's from the gift bag. That is all. Wait. Wednesday's soundtrack was "It's a jolly holiday with Mary." That is all.



Wednesday, 12 September 2012

Gladstone is very to the point

Gladstone wrote an article about how we wish for (and sometimes expect) things we never had a right to in the first place. He brought up rather boring examples like finding empty seats next to you on the bus, getting extra cash or product and guessing which one's the quickest queue every time. Rubbish. It's the thought that counts.

I wondered if wanting a soul mate is that sort of thing. I might have written a whole post about it just now if it weren't for two thing: 

1) I have very little time. This week's assignments turned out to be ridiculously long. I might not even turn in the statistics homework assignment even though I have about 90% of it done already and that's because the bloody biology assignments are too fucking long and I still have the chemistry lab to worry about. True, I should have started working on this at least two days ago, but frankly, I'm willing to justify my having done fuck all yesterday and the day before because I've spent too much time being busy up until now. 

2) Aunt A came by my room to ask what I wanted to have for dinner. She mentioned she'll be busy tomorrow with a number of things, including an appointment to get a facial. I don't know if I mentioned this before, I don't suppose I have. She has one once a month. She had one about a week after I arrived and mentioned she'd get me an appointment, which she never scheduled. I once refused to go on a water bed massage machine because I was a bit disgusted by the thought of the numerous sweaty people who might have been there before, so I said I didn't much like massages. Aunt A said I probably wouldn't like the facial at all and left it at that. That might be it. The thing is, I think aunt A was just waiting for an excuse not to get me an appointment and that was just it.

It's happened other times. Yesterday afternoon we were out shopping. When she asked before if I'd like to come and asked if I'd like anything from Lancôme, I said I'd like to look at a few eyeshadows and she gave me a look like it was crazy that I'd like to wear any make up and it were just so wrong of me, you know? I stuck by it, and all I got was a gel/powder eyeshadow. I looked at the gel eyeliners but the saleslady didn't really invest in showing anything to me and aunt A didn't insist. 

After that, aunt A's friends said they'd go look at clothes. They asked if we'd like to come with. I said nothing until aunt A said she'd like to go too, so I said yes. Aunt a immediately gravitated towards the area where the clothes she likes are. After quite a while walking around where she'd show me shirts and blouses, pointing out they're all quite too small for her, she picked out three blouses without trying them on and set out to buy them. When her friends asked if I'd found anything I said I didn't find much of interest as we were mostly in an area for women older than me. Aunt A acted surprised and said "I thought you were looking at clothes for you too!", followed by "Go look for something!". I pointed out her friends were about to leave and I'd just hold them back, it's not like I  need anything else and I already felt a little guilty about getting a bra that turned out to be more expensive than average. They insisted, so I gave everything a quick look and settled for not picking anything mostly because the clothes weren't that pretty, or they were too expensive, and I would have had to try them on and waste precious time. That was all right. Aunt A said we should look for clothes for me tomorrow. We'll see about that.

When she went out to buy some groceries today and to get a pedicure she didn't ask if I'd like to get a pedicure too. She asked if I'd like to come buy the groceries. I said I'd rather stay home and work and even cooked her lunch for when she got back. She thanked me. While it's the polite thing to do, and I won't deny it, if I go out of my way to do something nice for her like wash the dishes, clean the fridge, clean the stove, do the laundry, bathe the pets, or make her lunch, could she not extend the courtesy? Could she not take five more minutes scheduling her facial's appointment to schedule one for me? Could she not let me look around for make-up when we were right there anyway? Could she not ask what clothes I'd like to go look at rather than gravitate towards clothes she likes, only to pretend she was looking for clothes for me too? The nicest thing she's done all day was tell me I could have a pair of sweat pants she didn't really like when she tried them on (which are a bit too large for me but it's all right), and offer to give me a used lip balm rather than replace the cheap one I lost and asked for as an item in today's grocery shopping.

I could swear she still resents the fact that I kept three out of the four giveaway lipsticks we got from Estée Lauder because she gave me one she didn't like and I refused to give away one I did like. I more politely said "Oh, I use lipsticks some times... you can come and borrow it any time anyway" because she'd tried to coax me into giving it away saying "But, do you even use lipsticks?".  I've made it a point to wear them on weekends now. I know I ask for not so nice things because I don't really feel entitled to ask for others, but when she offers anything at all she should offer more nicely. She should offer new products and chances to let me choose rather than hand-me-downs from things she's already said she doesn't like.

It's all made even worse by the fact that aunt A thinks that things she likes are the only good things. Things she likes must be, to some degree, good and I won't argue that. But she thinks that the only good things are the ones she likes and that anyone who dares like anything different is stubborn for liking something inferior. Thus, when she gives things away, handed down because she doesn't like them, it's not as good-spirited an action as you'd think.

My point is, I know I'm not entitled to any of these things. Not the make-up, the facial or the clothes. But aunt A gets nice things and only just pretends to offer, not very keen on actually sharing and inviting. Like a child who reluctantly offers to let you try his chocolate and only just lets you lick it. As  for me, I know my place well enough to know not to ask, so I'll do without and let it eat away at me.

An experience in particular comes to mind, in a day where I've been overflooded by memories of torturous moments from grade school and high school. I was once at a friend's house and her grandmother came by, offering to buy my friend ice cream. She pointed out that first of all they had to drop me off at my place. Is that not cruel? Mention ice cream and, rather than invite her granddaughter after I was gone or invite me too, she said "we have to drop that little girl off first." It was a very short ride to my house and I found it hard to hold back tears. As soon as I got home I started crying, offended at that woman's referring to me as "that little girl." It wasn't so much that, though. It was the rudeness, the stinginess and the fact that I'd come to expect something I had no right to. 

I'm feeling a little like that right now. Growing up my parents always made sure that if we had friends over and they bought us candy, there had better be enough candy to share or they'd have to give it to us when the visit was gone. When people visit we go out of our way to make them comfortable and treat them to things they like. Even when we can't really afford it. If I'm talking to someone and I get hungry, I feel guilty not offering to share. I'll admit I'm quicker to share with people I like and it's a token of my liking them, but I usually offer every time. It just may take me longer with people I don't like much. Aunt A can afford to be nicer, she just isn't. For all her talk on what constitutes "being nice to others" she sure doesn't apply much of it.

[15th of September edit:]
Aunt A gave away new blouses she bought long ago to send to an aunt. I'm sure these are the same she'll offer aunt MT when she gets here. She didn't buy them thinking of anyone other than herself. The only reason she's giving them away is because she didn't like them. Puts the few shirts she's given me (and a substantial part of all her gifts to female relatives) in a whole new light. 

As for recent displays of her negativity... I was playing on the iPad and talking to AOB when she came into the room wanting to tell me about the horrors of World War II and the Holocaust, like you do. Because: reasons. I don't really know. I couldn't even follow a conversation about it, as my attempts to point out more recent and also relevant episodes were reaching deaf ears. I grew exasperated because I honest to goodness just don't. know. what. to. say. What are you supposed to say when you're minding your own business and are interrupted by a comment about the deaths of 40 million people?

Bless AOB for letting me vent and for being his lovely, too nice, rational self. 

Tuesday, 11 September 2012

I dream of vampires

I had a sort of nightmare last night. I was sleepless, to begin with. Comes with a sort of down mood I've been in. I couldn't pull myself to get any work done yesterday. I just lay on the bed, sort of slept through a make-up tutorial and then just played Fairway Solitaire. Well into midnight (it must have been past 1am when I fell asleep). Moreover, after I turned off the lights I couldn't stop thinking of LesMisGuy and had horrible thoughts about silence. I had horrible thoughts about his silence. I drove myself mad for a bit, thinking of how nice it was to kiss him and then bashing myself about thinking it was nice when the whole thing made me so miserable. I'm not sure any of this explains my dream, but it might account for its dreadful nature.

The dream starts with me soaking wet, I know not why. I was with aunt M and I was afraid I might have ruined something of hers (a machine or appliance... might as well have been a shower or bath tub). There I was, afraid of repercussions because I'd fucked up when aunt M told me my parents were calling for me. In my dream, that was because the old man wanted to thank me for a shirt I'd given him as a present. I went out of the room aunt M was in and made to meet my parents. They were at the house living room, which was dark. I assume it was late at night. They pointed at a little girl by the a couch in the back of the room. I'm realising only now that there is no couch there, as that's where the library is. This girl must have been 6 or 7 years old. She looked pale and had straight black hair down to her shoulders. I believe she was autistic, but her special needs might have been others. She was just there in the dark and I was in charge of her, so I'd been called to get her to sleep. 

I pulled her in a bed with me, under the covers, and feared I'd get her all wet and cold but I couldn't think of anything else to do. We were in my parents' bedroom. Then, next thing I know, both the girl and I had turned into vampires. And nothing like the silly glittery people shown on television. A different species. Humanoid, all right. But about a head taller than the average human, sallow but not quite so pale skin, straight black hair. Facial features were quite different, almost fiendish in nature: squinted beady eye pulled up, higher up in the face than average. A long distance between the nose and the lips. Thin, almost scrawny complexion, with a caved in rib cage and small, sagging breasts (we were naked). I fail to recollect any memory of wings, though I presume we had bat wings, and yet I'm quite sure we had some appendage or other. We looked at each other and wondered. I suppose we didn't know we were both vampires. We asked one another about some practical tool we both forgot about, like a pencil. When I woke up I was a little afraid of the dark, to be very honest, and was relieved to find that the light outside my room had been left on all night.

In another dream, I was teaching my class from last semester. Only 5-8 students were there. They were bored and one of them (not really from my class) asked if we couldn't arrange something to make the class more interesting, because he felt like it was a waste of time. I looked at my watch and figured we could squeeze in some kind of activity outside in 30min. It was dark and there was a red glowing light about the whole classroom. It almost reminded me of late nights in the city. In this dream I'd picked up a bag of chocolates form some place related to the professor who passed away recently. Buying them was some sort of commemoration of him. I opted to give my students the candy and ran into CtThumbe who remarked how delicious those chocolates were and asked what I was doing with them. Apparently, she'd given me a bag just like it and I'm now hesitating and wondering if I didn't come up with the commemoration story thing to lie to her about using her gift as rewards for my students... 

Aunt A picked up on my foul mood today and asked if I was sad, upset or mad. I just pointed out I was tired, that I hadn't slept very well and had had a sort of nightmarish dream about vampires. I said nothing about the horrible, horrible music she plays on the car all the fucking time. When we first got on the car the radio was still on from yesterday and I was relieved. But right away she switched it to those bloody discs of her. I think she actually hesitated. I know, I should probably speak my mind and let her know I detest that music. I've made up my mind not to disagree with her quite so often: I'm sticking to being non-confrontational.

Monday, 10 September 2012

Just for the record

I can't get LesMisGuy out of my head. I looked him up again on facebook and this time he showed up in the list as soon as two letters into his first name. It made me think that maybe he looked me up and still thinks of me. It let the madness in. I'm not sure it would be nice to actually send him the e-mail I've redacted in my head for him, even if it's a short one:

For the record,

Me encantas.

That is all.

Not sure what I'd call this

Suddenly remembered I had an odd dream last night. I'm not even sure why exactly it's odd, if not for the fact that I had a dream about a perfect stranger. I had a dream about a young man taller than me, medium build, tan, curly black hair. I don't know who he was. He looked like no one I know or remember seeing. I know we had something going on because it was not weird when he stood behind me and lightly ran his fingers along my sides, above my waist. For some reason, I was a bit sore, as if I'd exercised too much. For a stranger reason still, it was very nice to have him touch me like that and I can't even say I remember being touched that way before. I told him to wait for me a bit and I'd join him. I was flossing my teeth. I met him and we were at the house, him in a red Jaguar waiting for me with some girl who was related to him. They complained about the parking space (and lack thereof). I don't know where we were going, but I can only assume we were looking for privacy, so, come to think of it, I don't know what the girl was doing there. 

Also, there was a pool in the dream somewhere, and girls from school1 were in it. Not sure what this has to do with anything. 

In the random department, there was a sort of tiiiiny boomerang made in the shape of a zucchini, out of glass. It floated, twisted and turned in the air and I remember watching it.

[3:41pm edit]
Soundtrack of the day: "Funny Honey" as sung by Renée Zellweger in the musical Chicago

Also, I may have borrowed the visual for the anonymous young man from The Lovely Bones. Except he didn't look so much arab/indian as he did latino.

Sunday, 9 September 2012

Ne me croies pas stupide

Ne me crois pas stupide, tante A. Je bien sais déjà que tu fais des miracles pour ne pas te tuer. Je bien sais que tu manges beaucoup que tu ne dois pas manger en utilisant ton diabetes comme une excuse. C'est pas juste. J'ai te dit de manger une pastille de glucose, mais non. Tu vas manger tu ce que tu veux (et ne dois pas) parce on ne peut rien te dire. Tu diras que tu sais tout qu'on peut savoir sur la diabetes. Tu diras qu'on ne sait rien, qu'on n'a rien lu. Tu diras que tu connais ton mal bien et tu mangeras des choses sucrés. Moi, je sais que j'ai été raisonnable. Si tu fais des choses stupides, c'est ta faute. Pas à moi. Ta faute

Like break-dancing, but sexier

serves me right for not being able to stopp thinking of LesMisGuy last night. I had a dream about him. Really, it was more of a dream about us. Him and me, as a couple. We were, well... I'm not sure how to put it. I might as well mention, I'm sure it must mean something, that he was wearing dark read red (I only left the first one because it sort of makes sense on him).  On to it. We were having what I can only describe as a very long body caress. We would flow around each other, sliding on the floor, contorting ourselves around a chair/table/other piece of furniture without ever losing contact. I actually stopped to think it was a little like break-dancing in my dream, except very soft. It was one very long continuous motion of a very soft, very sweet caress of one body touching another. It was like a full body version of what it was like kissing him. It was amazing. I stopped to wonder why we hadn't kissed, so I kissed him. But he got an erection, which was apparently out of the question, and stopped to wait for it to go away. I hugged him and he said I wasn't helping because even that turned him on. I let go for a bit and then we went back to where we were, flowing around each other. 

I suppose water molecules might do that if only two of them were left to their own devices. Maybe. Don't quote me on that, it's a horrible analogy, and yet water molecules do form very weak bonds with one another, small parts at a time, while in continuous flow... Perhaps if water molecules weren't so "promiscuous" and two decided to dance around each other, ignoring the rest... 

Never mind that.

I had another dream where I was at an audition for a film. I knew beforehand that the film would be famous, and that so would the lead. I sort of knew the lead in the audition and looked forward to being able to say I'd seen him audition. It might have been someone like Darren Criss, but maybe not. I'm not sure if this was the same film as some live stage presentation that ended with an actor sneaking out of the stage, running in through the front door of the establishment (which had put out the lights to centre the action on the stage) and got shot. It was a shock to the audience, but every last second of it had been rehearsed. Odd.

That will be all, I think.

Saturday, 8 September 2012

Never mind

I've been too busy and lazy to write these days. A couple of days ago I would have stopped to credit aunt A with thinking a tragic song was less tragic than it was intended to be. There was something else to give her credit for, but I forgot. Credit goes to the old man too, for offering patience when I pointed out they're so very modern over there.

So much for credit. One of our neighbours saw a man in their back yard. They called the police, which arrived swiftly. They rang the bell and asked if they could come take a look at aunt A's back yard. The officer came in and left having found nothing. Aunt A subsequently failed to get any sleep last night. She asked how I'd slept this morning and I said I'd slept just fine. She was astounded at my being able to keep an eye shut after last night. I pointed out that the policeman found nothing to worry about. She said it could have been just the two of us alone in the house (we weren't because my uncle was here). I would have said it made no difference. I could have argued that bad people would do bad things whether we worry about them or not because either way there's not an awful lot we can do. I didn't. I just remarked that burglaries are not usually violent crimes. She went into a fit saying how they're all criminals, drug addicts and what not. I pointed out she was rounding up all sorts and degrees of evil without admitting a difference between people who just need money and people who are evil enough to go out of their way to harm you. There is no changing her mind: to her, it's all the same. She actually exploded telling me I don't watch the news and therefore I don't know a thing. When she insisted, I said I'd rather just get me a bowl of cereal and she went to her room.

Let her be mad. Let her be mad at me. I don't fucking care. I will not encourage her paranoias nor bear to sit through them. She ought to know that what she sees on the news is biased. If she were so well-informed she'd know that crime rates have been going down steadily for the last 20 years or so and the only reason she doesn't notice is because of the bloody media. She can't quite put her finger on the fact that in the eve of a presidential election of course everything's more dangerous in the news than it actually is. They're trying to scare them into voting for whoever is supposed to be the stronger candidate. I don't fucking care. 

If she were so well-informed she'd know that since the year 2000 (give or take) only about 30% of burglaries happened when anyone was home. That less than 10% involved any violence towards the people in the house. That burglaries only happen about to 1,000/100,000 people in big cities, which have a higher crime rate than the national average. This is all according to government sources. Out of 100,000 people, only 1,000 are victims or burglary. Out of these, only 300 are present at the time, out of those, only about 30 (or less) are subject to violence. That's quite a bit less than 1% chance. Gallup polls show that people here are unreasonably paranoid in spite of very strong evidence against what they think can happen.

Aaand now she's arguing about lunch today.

Goodness... the woman does seem to deliberately make her life miserable, and then she worries about her high blood pressure, her high blood sugar, her low heart rate and worries even more because they're all unacceptable for a woman her age in her condition.

Positive Patty... I'm telling you...


Scratch that. Or not. I don't know any more.

You know how I'm not supposed to start conversations with EBF because I end up being let down every time and I'll stupidly insist again like maybe next time we'll have a real conversation and I won't be miserable in the end? It's madness. By definition. I'm incredibly and increasingly frustrated with just about everything today. I'm annoyed by aunt A, I'm annoyed by N1 and her spurts of messaging in the middle of I'm-fucking-busy-working-on-an-online-lab-assignment. I'm pissed off about the damned online lab that crashes and fails to save my progress and is just. so. shittyFuck.


And I've still got the statistics exercises to work on. And the chemistry homework due in before Tuesday. But we've got a test, so I'd better have that by Monday. And that still doesn't clear the other two chapter reviews and tests for biology. Tomorrow should be a nice day because I planned a day to cook pizza from scratch... It may turn out a lot worse than I was hoping for. Aunt A asked if we should go buy groceries and stop by the gym. I said yes and we agreed to go later, as we'd just come back from lunch. When she came by to ask if we should get going I told her to wait while I changed. Not here, nor when I came out with my gym bag did she pick up on the fact that I thought we were going to the gym. I didn't really notice she wasn't wearing her gym clothes until later. So we went grocery shopping and I just came back to the bloody lab. Which doesn't work. And to N1 texting me too many messages at a time to tell me about her date. It sort of gets old. More so when she asks about me  but I ask if maybe we could IM because I can't type as much on the phone and she just says no because she's busy. Except not busy enough to stop texting. *sigh*

I just don't know. And then the lab just crashed in my old computer, so I switched to the new one, but it crashed too, which I assume might have something to do with mac not liking flash. And the tap to click doesn't work on the Windows partition. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. They're tiny things, I know. Minor annoyances. I tell aunt A to calm down about much less. But it's all adding up to things juts plain not working for me.

And I hate that everyone asks how I'm doing. The old man picks up on how I get into arguments with the old folk here. Mum picked up on my being pissed off right now when she called and asked "are you upset?" Fuck yes, mother, I'm upset. I'm not going to tell you about it. Whatever led you to believe I would? Why fucking ask if it just annoys me further? Ugh. And yes, I know I sound like a horrible person. But it all piles on and on and on. And aunt A asked what we're going to do for dessert tomorrow. She does not pick up that when I'm working I'd like to be left alone. That my assignments are mostly done within time limits and I can't finish them if she wants to talk when I'm taking them. She does that often. It just tipped the glass over today. I didn't help with the dishes for tonight's dinner. I'd been washing them most every day until now. I don't know if she'll be upset over it but I'm majorly frustrated right now and I just can't be brought to go wash dishes. I'll feel horrible because it will all add on top of the notion that sometimes (through actions and decision of my own, I might add) I do become something like a housemaid. And though she'll often tell me not to bother and does try to help, she also tends to rely on me to do shit she won't be getting very involved with.

Like tomorrow's dessert which I still haven't thought about because I thought that was the reason we'd bought cookies today when we went grocery shopping. Why does nothing make sense? Why? Why does the site crash? Why does N1 want to talk of nothing but herself? Why does mum ask if I'm upset? Why do I keep trying to talk to EBF? Why am I even here? What are my options and why didn't I properly weigh them?

While we're at it... why did I look up LesMisGuy on facebook? Well, almost. You know, I just start typing his name and see how far along I have to go before he shows up. Some time ago I'd type the whole name and get nothing. Today just his first name yielded him as the second result. Made me wonder if maybe he looked me up. Makes me wonder now why the fuck I bother thinking such thoughts. I shouldn't be thinking about him enough to want to sort of look him up to begin with... 

Oh, good heavens... to think I didn't even mention SmTn got his present. Sweet as ever. Even he can't lift my spirits today.

Tuesday, 4 September 2012

Positive Patty

Shitty name, I know. I can't be bothered to look if there's an already existing opposite to Negative Nancy, so I came up with my own. You'd never think of me as a Positive Patty, but here you have it. Next to aunt A, I'm an absolute Positive Patty. Why, you ask?

I've mentioned it before, aunt A is so very incredibly negative... Just today we passed by some student residences. I pointed out they looked pretty. You know  what she said? She remembered that some other student residences are known for rape and drugs. The ones of the university I'll be attending next. Uh-huh. And, to drill the point further, she mentioned someone killed a girl there. They caught the guy, but never mind the good news, student residences are places of evil. All of that from my remark that the residences looked nice.

Fuck, it's tiresome.

Saturday, 1 September 2012

Fantasising

After a lengthy play of Fairway Solitaire (mea culpa) I couldn't quite settle down to do homework. Even though I already fucked up and mindfarted a review out of existence in my brain and got a blooming 0 on the easiest 100 (a tutorial on how to use the system). *sigh*

I wanted to write about what's been on my mind today, because I'm sure psychiatrists would have a field day with it. Aunt A talks a lot. She can't quite sit down and be around people without talking. Even when she's driving. It gets avery annoying, especially when I learn most of her stories by heart and there's "I'm old" at the core of every one of them. I inadvertently space out and my mind wanders. Sometimes I look out the window and blank out trying to pretend I'm still listening to aunt A. Today I walked into a fantasy and every spare second I got I spent there. They'll host another summer school next year, you know. So, I started thinking about what it would be like if SmTn was there. And if LesMisGuy went too.

In my fantasy, one night SmTn and I are just sitting on a bench, talking. The talking turns into him leaning in and surprising me with a kiss, which I receive with a "That was as sweet as it was sneaky. And it was very sneaky." I'd then be forced to say "I'm going to call it a night now. You have a girlfriend and a friend who respects that. I'll see you tomorrow." The whole time, LesMisGuy would be in the background, eavesdropping. Walking out from my meeting with SmTn I'd walk by him and let him know I was aware of his eavesdropping with a not-so-subtle "Still here? Aren't you cold?" and would sit next to him to talk. In my fantasy, he'd be easy to read and I would catch him off his guard with that, but I'd offer to share a blanket and stick around. In my fantasy, he would have gone to summer school just to see me. In my fantasy, he'd want to be with me. Having made him uncomfortable, I'd then go into saying "You know, I definitely just don't understand you" and go over a brief summary of how he's led me to understand he's just not that into me, all the time knowing I am quite into him (present tense even as I said it). 

That's where I get stuck. I suppose that's also the point where I'm completely out of my mind not making sense, but fantasies are allowed not to make sense. My point is that up until that moment, my fantasy is very clear to me and I can see it all happen, but I just can't anticipate LesMisGuy's reaction. Would he excuse himself and go to sleep? Would there be an uncomfortable silence? What about a comfortable silence where he holds my hand while he gathered his thoughts? What about SmTn? He wouldn't cease to disappear as I walked off and there's a scenario where he might even follow me. He just might see me with LesMisGuy and doesn't that all make me a horrible person? Even for fantasising about it? Does it not make me evil to wish that two guys liked me? Does it not make me wretched to fantasise that even then nothing much happens with either of them?

And really, what could LesMisGuy possibly say? If he showed up to summer school to see me, as is the case in my fantasy, what's his argument? Did he suddenly realise he likes me, years after the fact? Would he have wasted his chance like he did if he'd liked me when the time was right? Could he possibly be that much of a coward that, in the face of me pretty much throwing myself in his arms, he would have done nothing out of insecurity? Because of my first reading of him, one before I started fancying him, I can't quite dismiss this possibility. Well, mostly because I'm willing to justify him actually liking him with pretty much anything, but also because it's the only "reasonable" excuse I can come up with. Maybe he took too long to want to make a move and by then I'd given up and retreated to a place where he's not even my facebook friend. Maybe.

Maybe, and much more likely, I can't quite let go of the idea of LesMisGuy (or of SmTn, for that matter). If some dating site's advice is right about it, my unwillingness to let go would be a manifestation of huge insecurities (which are obviously present). Their advice was to ask myself: what am I afraid of? And I don't know. They seemed to aim the advice at serial daters, people who can't seem to be happily single ever and cling to relationships for sustenance. That's not me. But the thing about insecurities somehow spoke to me and I'm wondering if maybe being more secure and having higher self-esteem would help me letting go of the men that weren't. Would I have more reasonable fantasies then? Would I at least settle for more straightforward fantasies of being rich and famous?

Because even now when I fantasise about it I end up thinking of an interview where I'm asked about my love life and I mention LesMisGuy and everyone asks themselves: "What kind of an idiot misses out on her?". Including him. And then he'd reach out to me and we could give things a shot. Fuck, that's fucked up. If I were rich and famous I'd have plenty of other men to choose from, and I'd still go back to LesMisGuy? What's fucking wrong with me? Not Darren Criss? Not Matthew Gray Gubler? Not anyone else? Really?

For those of you with dirty minds out there, I realise the above fantasy could have easily turned into a very likely exciting threesome. In my mind, it doesn't. I think I'd be more content with my fantasising if it did, knowing that the threesome is a somewhat more "normal" thought. It would at least point at my thinking that both men would want me. As it is, I'd push SmTn away and make the situation pretty much impossible with LesMisGuy.

For those of you still judging me for browsing through sites with dating advice, give me a fucking break.