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Wednesday, 31 October 2012

Goodbye, aunt MT

We got back from driving aunt MT to the airport a while ago. I'd caught myself getting a little teary eyed last night and today, but I made sure to stay calm even as I said goodbye an hour ago. 

I changed back into my pyjamas, turned off the lights, jumped into bed and a call came in from a payphone. Aunt MT thought she hadn't said goodbye to me and thought she'd call before going on the plane to do so, telling me she and everyone are proud of me and wish me all the best, that she loves me, that she sends me a hug and a kiss. Now, I'm not one for such things. It was all I could do to say "All right, same to you. Goodbye!" and after I hung up I broke down and now I can't stop crying. It occurred to me only now that it's not out of the realm of possibility that we may never meet again. It hit me only now that even by aunt A's reckoning I'd been a lot happier with her around and I hadn't even noticed. 

May God (the one she believes in) and all other good gods bless her. Bless her. Bless her uncountably many times. 

Tuesday, 30 October 2012


I don't know when this dream is from, but when the chemistry instructor lit a lighter today during class it suddenly came to me: I had a dream where I desperately needed a smoke. I left whichever place I was in, it was fairly cold, I went down a flight of stairs, it was getting dark, and I found a street vendor with a few people standing around him. I asked for a cigarette and fumbled around, dropping a few besides the one I was taking for myself, and then rummaged  my wallet/purse for money to pay for the dropped (and now surely ruined) cigarettes. It was such a strange urge, you know, because I don't smoke. I've never smoked. I once held a cigarette for D, but I didn't breathe in. It's not that I wasn't aware of the fact that I don't smoke in my dream. I just needed to smoke and I figured it was a time as good as any to start. 

MrInteresting didn't talk to me at all today. I'll call that a win, even if it felt as if he was a little upset. Well, I'm sorry: you can't leave a smart woman alone to her own devices with an easily falsifiable hypothesis and means to falsify it. 

On other news, I've been awfully distracted today. I stupidly failed today's bonus quiz for statistics and a dead easy question during chemistry class. All throughout chemistry class I couldn't stop thinking of LesMisGuy. I went over the lines from Cyrano in my head. I even wrote them down on a piece of paper I'd used to draw Penrose triangles in during the statistics class. I don't know what's the matter with me. Why would I go about deliberately making myself miserable with thoughts of LesMisGuy? I wondered where he might be and thought he might be in France, where at least one lovely French girl must be fancying him. That's where my thoughts go: to the women he must now be with. I wondered whether he thinks of me and stopped myself short reminding myself of how stupid it is to give the idea any thought. What does it matter? Why would I get myself stuck in fantasies where I run into him and all I manage to say is J'existe pas! Je ne suis pas ici! Personne ne saura si je suis sortie! as I try to sneak away from him approaching me? Why do I imagine him wanting to talk to me? Wanting to... kiss... me? And even in my fantasy it's all I can do to run away. What a horribly wretched thought that is.

[8:31pm edit]
Aunt MT told me aunt A has found something else to be upset with me about: plantain chips. I'll explain: my parents sent a lot of plantain chips for me to divide between my relatives. I told them beforehand not to send too many for me specifically because aunt A shouldn't eat fried anything, and in particular she shouldn't load up on fried carbohydrates. Fast forward to when aunt MT got here, I opened the plantain chips and offered aunt A and uncle A some. They didn't seem to like them much. I gather this from the fact that a mostly full bag was left in the fridge for over a week (if not two weeks). I can only guess by then it was tossed out or given to the dog because they must have been quite yucky by then. 

After dividing them and setting apart some to be given later, I left the rest with the lemon flavoured potato chips in my room. I haven't been eating more than one, maybe two a week. There are still 4-5 packages left. Aunt MT told me aunt A thinks I'm hoarding them and keeping them to myself so I don't have to share. It will sound childish when I say I shared! And they didn't like the plantain chips! It should have made no difference where I kept them! 

I stand by an argument I've made before: aunt A likes to be upset and all she has to do is find something to be upset about. Given there's hardly anyone else around, it figures that will more often than not end up being me. If I help around the house it goes unnoticed, if I think of her low blood sugar and ask how she's doing it's more likely to backfire, if I worry she's eating unhealthy it's sure to backfire, if I'm non-confrontational she thinks I'm being condescending and she says I must think she's stupid when she constantly tells me she knows better about everything because: reasons. 

*exasperated sigh*

There's just no right way to go about this, is there? I left what was left of the chips in the pantry. She can do with them what she pleases. 

Monday, 29 October 2012

Long night

I slept quite a bit last night. Went to bed relatively early. Woke up at about the same time as usual (9:30am). I didn't write this sooner so I've already forgotten a fair bit. I had a dream last night where I went out on a sort of blind date with a man who was a bit older than me. He didn't go on his own, he brought his brother along. I thought it was weird, but when the conversation didn't quite flow naturally I was glad his brother helped ease the conversation. As for a physical description, tall, rather thin, longish curly black hair. Not particularly handsome, or interesting. In another dream I was at my hairdresser's from back home and I asked him if my eyes are hazel or green. He said they were green. Somehow that's supposed to be important enough to dream about. It was an all-round odd dream to have.

On other news, aunt A made a fuss about aunt MT being willing to do a favour for an acquaintance. The favour? Carrying a wrist watch. No, really. That's it. You'd think someone had asked aunt MT to smuggle drugs from the fit she threw. Goodness!

It gets better. Of course it does. Aunt A's in a foul mood today, wanting to be mad at everything and anything. When we were out shopping I got the old man a shirt to play tennis in, as my sister suggested. It was more expensive than aunt A would approve of, so I wasn't about to buy it with her looking at me. I did want someone's opinion on whether to get the dark blue one or a white one. I lost sight of aunt A and aunt MT in the shop. I first found aunt A sitting outside, I turned around and found aunt MT walking my way and I asked her for her opinion. It just happened that way. In retrospect, it made the most sense to ask aunt MT: she's seen the old man more than aunt A, has a better idea of what he'd wear and wouldn't judge me on the price tag. Aunt MT later told me aunt A was upset because I didn't ask her, as if I were picking sides between the two of them. And while, yes, I find aunt MT far more agreeable and easier to be around, I wouldn't deliberately try to exclude either from a conversation. I can see how rude that would be. 

If that's where we're going, I have better reasons to think she's deliberately mean to me. Today, for instance she would have gone out with aunt MT and bought lunch out leaving me to fix myself lunch. Is that not a very un-nice gesture? Is that not an un-nice gesture like buying things for herself without offering others or offering things she won't live up to? Is that not as un-nice as dirtying what I clean? Is it not even less nice when you consider that I clean around the house without being asked and without being properly thanked? Granted, I do it more for myself and my growing obsession with cleanliness... the fact remains that it's a nice thing to do, cleaning up for others, cooking for others, and if I were as horrible as she seems to think I am I certainly wouldn't do it, now would I? So where does she come from when she's mean as if I deserved it?

Aunt MT later bought a shirt for mum that cost more than aunt A would spend on a gift and got a "lecture" on it too. What does aunt A care how much aunt MT or I spend on gifts if it's not her money? Why is she so stingy when she has the most money to spend? 

Oh, but that was nothing. When we got back all hell broke lose because aunt A couldn't contact BCM to ask if she should go pick up LC4 from school or not. Admittedly, BCM could have and should have answered. She could have also called earlier to let aunt A know that there was no need to pick him up because he hadn't even been to school. Aunt A came into my room to ask if BCM had called. She had, and I hadn't noticed. I must have been in the kitchen when he did and my cellphone hardly ever gets used so I wouldn't have checked to see the lost call unless she'd told me. Aunt A said she'd (finally) spoken with BCM and that BCM said she'd been calling everyone numerous times. She'd only called me once. Aunt A may have been exaggerating.

Aunt A told me BCM had supposedly told us all that LC4 wasn't going to school today. I had no idea. I don't know (I can't know) if BCM told aunt MT and aunt A about it when I wasn't around. Even if she did, it's sort of on BCM because aunt A can't be relied on to remember such things if they break her "pattern." I don't know why aunt A lingered here telling me about it. Did she want me to get upset and throw a fit about how outrageous it was? It was not nice on BCM's part. Aunt A made it worse being unwilling to take her calls after that. I thought of intervening with a text message and opted for staying out of it. Let Ronso deal with Ronso problems. Tomorrow? It won't be a pretty picture. 

Sunday, 28 October 2012

Mood killer

Call me whatever you want, but I'm not too keen on my parents calling on Skype and wanting to speak to all of us (read: anyone other than me). It means aunt A will be yelling, they'll ask to be able to see me on camera (which is massively annoying because there's no comfortable way to sit in front of the computer in aunt A's room anywhere other than on her chair), and aunt A will be participating in the conversation. This means she'll every so often make bad jokes ("did you miss your dead dog so much you asked to borrow one?" at the dog my mum agreed to dogsit for an acquaintance of hers) and as often as she can she'll turn any subject into a depressing one ("they have a dog, we have a dog, ours seems to be suffering of arthritis through faults that are not at all my own though I let her drink water out of the pool if it means I don't ever have to pour water in her bowl and let her eat whatever I don't feel like eating, whatever's on her bowl even if it's rotten because I can't be bothered to wash it, ever... she's arthritic like our dead dog, who was miserable in his last days"... probably said in fewer words). So, yes, I put on a sour face. Yes, I was very annoyed at being called to her room to take the bloody call. Yes, it was a little rude on my part to try so hard not to even chuckle at the actually funny remarks. I just wanted out of there.

Mum  made a face letting on she would have asked but didn't dare: "wasn't linaThumbe going away this weekend with her cousins?". I know I won't ask. I hinted at her to say nothing in my last e-mail. Same went for my sister when she asked the same. 

Cinderella (there's a theme)

Haven't written an e-mail for SmTn yet. Haven't really done any homework yet (except for that online lab nonsense). And I haven't filled in the brand new college application I need yet.

On Friday I woke up relatively early and got to work: I cleaned the fridge, did the laundry, mopped the garage, and cleaned the cat's litter box. All before noon. I was in full 1950s housewife mode. A few days before that I'd cleaned the microwave oven. Twice. Once with a little chlorine and a full disassembly to get every last bit of dirt out of it. (Because the day after I cleaned it aunt A heated pasta with tomato sauce and tuna and it splattered all over it). The microwave is again dirty and smelly. Aunt A's new pair of like-a-glove pants were  ruined in the washing machine even though I followed directions to wash it in the machine with cold water (turns out I missed "gentle cycle"). I spent all day yesterday sewing it back together. As soon as she got home aunt A tried to get something from the fridge and spilled oatmeal drink all over the first level. After I'd just cleaned it. The garage or whereabouts is again smelly, though I can't tell if it's the garage or someplace else by the washing machine and dryer.

I was a little upset when uncle A asked if I'd gotten around to reading the driving manual. Or the book BCN suggested I read about getting into college. When was I supposed to get around to it? When?!

Aunt MT pointed out that aunt A said nothing about how I'd done the laundry and "took credit for it." I wouldn't have bothered taking credit, but she sort of has a point. The most I get is a "thank you" and "let me get that dirty again for you," which pretty much cancels out the "thank you." Wouldn't you agree?

I'm like a house elf or a brownie.

Turns out aunt A's pants had ripped before I put them in the washing machine. She would have sewn it herself if I hadn't. I'm not sure what exactly she would have sewn. I'm still positive the machine made them a lot worse, but if they were torn beforehand it would explain why they were so ruined when I got them out. I'm hoping the'll be pretty much indestructible now. Aunt MT said the stitches I was using were too much work, but would be hard to undo. It was a lot of work, but I wouldn't have known how else to do it.  

On another note, I spoke with my sister yesterday. She asked if I'd been out with BCM and the others to the amusement park. As had been mentioned before. I'm quite sure I didn't make up the story about being asked if I'd like to come with to the Halloween special. Not a word was said about it last night, though, so I assumed (correctly) that I wasn't going after all. This would fall under "things I would like but don't exactly have a right to" category.

In unrelated news, a couple of days ago I had a dream that included both EBF and LesMisGuy. I don't know what happened in the dream, but I'm fairy sure they met or at least spoke with one another in the dream. All day yesterday and Friday I couldn't get LesMisGuy out of my head. The sudden memories of kissing him were a bit too vivid and too frequent. 

Thursday, 25 October 2012

Catching up, are we?

So, er... I'm a bit too nice and non-confrontational for my own good, it turns out. Well, we'll see how it turns out, but I doubt that statement will have me buying a hat to eat. 

I spoke with MrInteresting today, if only briefly, before today's class began. He was almost too eager to talk to me. It almost seemed as if he'd been thinking "I've got this!". I was calm and a little distant. When we got out of class I was in a hurry to pee but he timed his exit with mine so I said I preferred being early for the next class. You know what he said? He implied I can shoo him away any time because he's walking me to class, interrupting me when I'm trying to do homework and everything. And I let him. Now I know I'm in some non negligible amount of trouble because he actually feels there's a certain level of familiarity I can't dismiss by suddenly not talking to him any more. 

And just how do you go about telling a man like him that I'm on to how full of it he is? Just how do I tell him "Remember everything you told me? Well, it wasn't so hard to see it was all a very elaborate lie and I'm now a little afraid of you. Do you mind?"

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

Said the Cat

Between political fanatics, living with aunt A and uncle A, having talked to MrInteresting and... you know, everything? I've decided I feel a lot like Alice. Everyone's mad here. Myself included. Or I wouldn't have come here. That's what the Cheshire cat would argue, at any rate.

Here I am, sitting on a chair, waiting for aunt A to come pick me up. It's all good. Except a guy comes by and starts by "I'm not trying to be a creep or anything" to let me know that people behind me were staring at my butt crack peeking above my pants (which aren't that outrageously low, but  you know). And my first response wasn't "Thanks for letting me know" but "Sorry!" because now I'm sorry for everything. It's the default answer. 

Further proof of my madness lies in the fact that I meant to write SmTn an e-mail in full Lewis Carroll glory and I actually want it to have accurate references to the books while narrating my story as if it were Alice's.


For what it's worth, a girl from the chemistry class who asked me to help her get the instructor to push a deadline may study with me for the next test (which she  needs more than I do but I could use the company... and she seems sane enough... for now...). 

In more true Alice style I was probably right wanting to run the hell away from MrInteresting when he first approached me. But I thought it was down to him being too nice with the compliments and really there's a lot more than compliments to worry about. I give myself some fairly good advice (at least as far as first impressions go) and then very rarely follow it.

On another note, I did spend a lot of my time during statistics class trying not to fall asleep and writing a never-to-be-sent letter to LesMisGuy, asking what's going on in his life. I had La Marseillaise stuck in my head the day before yesterday. Or yesterday. I can't remember anymore. Bear in mind, I'm mad.

Monday, 22 October 2012


I probably shouldn't have asked. I went on Facebook to notify EBF of my possibly massive misunderstanding about MrInteresting having a wife and wanted a bit of a break from studying biology so I left N1 a message, hopping she'd answer. Instead I had A greet me. And that's problematic.

You see, I've been checking the newsfeed often enough to know she's been out with people who make her miserable (read: Dg) and I don't want to hear about it because all that goes through my head is a sassy black woman with her most judgmental "Uh-huh" and I can't say that to A. Not out loud.

I feel like I have to congratulate her for getting along with her "friends" and I can't help but suspect she'll start talking shit any time soon to contradict me. If it doesn't happen now, she'll tell me she went out with them again in the future and she was miserable. Because that's how it goes. She's like that now.

Let's throw in another Uh-huh for aunt A because she was getting on my nerves yesterday night when we cooked lentils with a method different from whichever one she's been using forever. Someone please make her understand that there are often many ways to do the same thing and unless she can back her claims for "her way being the best" with facts she should STFU about how I'm going to make the pressure cooker explode.

Forgot to post this yesterday. I figure the title's still good for what I want to write today.

I was early for class, so I sat outside, as usual. MrInteresting joined me for a while and we chatted before the class started. In some particular order, I gathered the following:

1) He considered becoming a theoretical physicist before deciding he understands nothing without proper maths and he can't do maths properly.

2) He's fucking insane.

3) The reason he's travelled a lot is because he works snatching children back from parents who violate custody agreements, which is supposed to be something of a legal grey area.

I would have kept that last bit out of the blog, if only for privacy's sake because it's the sort of thing you wouldn't exactly advertise, but you'll see why I posted it anyway.

He mentioned his operation had been covered in a magazine and I remembered the magazine's name, so I looked it up. What do you know? There is such a thing. There's a man by his name doing exactly what he recounted, except that the man is very likely his father (by the looks of him) and the information provided online doesn't quite add up with what he told me. It gets a lot worse very quickly: they're both probably con artists. 

And that's where I go back to 
4) He's fucking insane.

MrInteresting indeed.

[10pm edit]
Come on, now! I left EBF an update with the above information two hours ago. Facebook kindly lets me know he read my message long ago, but he didn't show online until now. And I still get nothing? Doesn't that merit at least one "WTF?"?!

Saturday, 20 October 2012

ETS knows nothing

So, I did quite well on the TOEFL. Both times. ETS failed to catch up on stupid mistakes I could make hearing people talk.

Case at hand? CtThumbe has just rather brilliantly pointed out that what I heard was most likely "WiFi." I feel very stupid right now.

Friday, 19 October 2012


Now I want to keep track, out of curiosity... The day before yesterday I spoke with SmTn (in case you couldn't tell), and today I won the cards game. First game since I got here, and I won both times.

Thursday, 18 October 2012

Guilty post. Everything in this post is wrong. Wrong, I tell you.

Talk nerdy to me.

Sing, my angle angel of maths!

You math my world!

Do you know you're sexy, nerdy?

Why don't you be my maths friend? Would you do?

You're nerdy and you know it.

I could have mathed all night, I could have mathed all night and still have begged for more.

Talk to you later, math-alligator.

Dame ogle-the-tiniest-bit

I have a small confession to make. I was a half hour early for class (and about 30min late getting out of the car aunt A was in, talking about tragedies), so I sat down in one of the tables by the statistics classroom. MrInteresting showed up, also somewhat early. He approached me, asked if I'd studied and settled down in a chair in front of me. We talked until it was time to go. We then talked a tiny bit more when he got out of the exam. The note-worthy part in all this is that at some point he bent his arms behind his head and I ogled his arms. Silly as it sounds. I did. 

He's not a big guy. I initially thought he was a little shorter than me, even (I think he's about my height). He's on the stick-figure side of the spectrum, with a somewhat muscular build. That' s why I was surprised by biceps the size of grapefruits. I even stopped to think "he's married, get that silly thought out of your head."

I imagine this is what some men might feel like when they ogle women. I felt horribly guilty about the whole thing.

For the record: what we talk about has been restricted almost in its entirety to school. Though there's plenty flirty in his behaviour there's nothing more to it than friendly chit-chat. I'm over the stupid-thoughts phase (remember SmTn and dead Santa?). I will do my best to be reasonable about this whole thing and go on thinking he's just being friendly even when he comes across as flirty. 

Wednesday, 17 October 2012

An outdated surprise

I had at least two dreams last night.

One was about a couple (man and woman) where the woman was rich and was ashamed to be seen with the man. She challenged him, telling him his last name was enough of an indicator of his social status, and had him hide and sneak to be with her. They broke into the building she lived in through a gate in the parking lot and had a lot of guards following them, only just missing them. The guards attributed the alarm going off to the woman's dog, who was apparently known for being troublesome.

The other dream had me and a boy from school1 (the one we almost dressed up as a lime) talking. For some reason, he'd been keeping something D meant to give me and had only just by chance run into it. The something was a little stuffed owl. It was kind of cute. I know I stopped to think it would have been a very sweet gesture had I gotten it from D. I didn't know what to feel, though. I suppose it couldn't have meant much so late. I suppose I wanted to think it was worth more than it actually was. Me and this boy (well, young man, if you will) started talking about me and D and somehow, he assumed it was I who broke up with D. As we talked a little more it became clearer and clearer that D was a jerk and had been horrible to me. This boy almost pitied me. I still don't know what to make of all this.

Monday, 15 October 2012

Fausse bonne idée

Vous le savez déjà: je suis si stupide par fois. J'ai commencé une conversation avec EBF car j'avais besoin de lui dire la phrase de mon rêve: "les idées sont nées presque vivantes." Pas de réponse à cette remarque, il m'a dit d'un concert. Il m'a envoyé des chansons par les musiciens et je me suis rappelée à une conversation avec SmTn et des musiciens qu'il connaissait. Je croyais qu'ils étaient parus, mais je ne me souvenais pas bien de la musique et ils n'étaient pas parus du tout. Alors je me suis sentie idiote (je ne sais pas si j'ai l'ai bien écrit, ça, mais ça va si je me sens stupide, n'est pas?).  J'ai lui demandé sur sa vie, l'université et avant lui dire que ça ira, qu'il sera bien, j'ai fait une petite blague sur quelque chose qu'il a écrit. Il est fini avec un "s'il te plaît." Ça pourrait dire "mais oui" mais aussi ça pourrait dire "ne sois pas idiote, tu savais ce que je voudrais dire." Je n'ai rien dit.

Ma tante MT m'a dit que je ne souris pas suffit ici. Je ne l'avais pas remarqué, mais elle a raison. Il ne me plaît pas sourire. C'est si difficile avec tante A et oncle A. C'est si difficile d'etre joyeuse quand ils pensent toujours aux tragédies. 

Il semble que le pauvre AOB vient en Décembre. Je dis "le pauvre" parce que ma soeur vient de me dire que l'idée de venir est à elle, pas à AOB. C'est elle qui a lui dit de venir. 

Ideas are born almost alive

Don't remember much of my dreams from last night except for that quote there. I heard it from my Russian literature professor, in a dream class. The quote was supposed to mean something like "it takes almost nothing to set an idea in motion." I remember writing it down in my dream because I liked it so and I'm writing it down again in waking life because I still like it so.

I wanted to send it to EBF but changed my mind. I thought of sending it to AOB but hesitated. It seemed, when he told me he might come, that he was gauging my reaction. I was very excited and deliberately held myself back from letting it on, giving him little more than a somewhat generic *Elmo yay*. In the back of my mind it means a bit too much for him to be willing to make such a detour just to come see me and I don't want to encourage him unjustly. Since I toned down the excitement, there's a chance he'll ultimately decide against it and he'll be justified if I'm right in all my convoluted thinking.

That is not all but I should be getting ready to leave.

Sunday, 14 October 2012

Of more niceness and not-so-niceness

After a brief re-telling of the Coffee Mate incidents BCN left me a brand new container as a parting gift today. Even though he's also something of a health nut, just not the crazy converting do as I say kind. Big thanks to him, it was a lovely gesture.

On the other hand of the spectrum you have aunt A who asked if I'd like to come with everyone to the mall. Aunt MT is going shopping and they'll be taking care of LC4. I would normally have chosen to stay behind and do nothing, but if I chose that I would have been left without lunch, because they're all having lunch together at the mall. The alternative would be to stay here and go out for lunch with uncle A and I'm not sure I want to be left alone with him and food. Bleargh. When she scheduled her hairdresser's appointment for Friday she didn't ask if I needed to cut my hair. As she left with aunt MT, it was aunt MT who asked how my hair loss was going and remarked she's heard trimming your hair can help a bunch. Anticipating aunt A wasn't going to offer I just said mine is falling off from the root without mentioning that the actual cause for the hairloss is most likely stress, which I wouldn't stress in front of aunt A.

Later, BCM asked if I'd been to cut my hair yet. She was thinking of going to cut her hair and asked if I wanted to cut mine too. I thought it would be too much (I don't know how much it costs, but I'm assuming it must be a pretty penny) so I politely declined explaining I only cut my hair twice a year and I'll just wait it out until December. And this is only worth mentioning because even uncle A has pointed out aunt A should take me to the hair salon. 

Random note: Aunt MT sounded sad when she said goodbye to her granddaughter, hugging her and saying "I love you so much." Made me teary-eyed. Makes me teary-eyed.

Saturday, 13 October 2012

Peux-je noch aller dormir?

Long day today. Started around 7am when my little cousin (and across the hall room-mate) woke up and everyone in the house was up talking. Loudly. Without bothering to close the doors we'd kept closed for quiet's sake. It wasn't much longer before I realised I wasn't going to get any more sleep anyway and I had better get up and join them for breakfast. After all, we had a big lunch coming up and aunt MT and I were cooking it. Big day cooking all the way until lunch. After lunch cousin S wanted to talk to me about college next semester and insisted I should get into the college I'm quite sure I won't be admitted to. Which leaves me screwed.

When they made plans to go to the park in the afternoon I initially said I'd stay but they said I should go, as everyone else was going, and I agreed. I had a nice enough time and enjoyed a big cup of ice cream. No harm there. After that came dinner, and after dinner trouble started. BCN was trying to be nice telling me about things I should try to do in college in order to succeed, but that conversation was best had away from uncle A who took it as an opportunity to tell me what he thinks is best. It turns out that includes networking, which I'm very much against. I just don't think it's  right to get anywhere because of who you know rather than who you are and what you're capable of. I sat that one out, nodding and being very quiet while trying to look like I was listening intently without letting on my thoughts on how fucked I am, without looking at uncle A talking with his mouth full and without grimacing at his bad manners.

I do mean that last phrase as an over all bad manners, not just table manners. I happen to believe it's terrible manners to push your views of the world on anyone. I think it's rude that he's got my life planned out for me and wants me to follow on what he thinks is the right path as if I weren't old enough or intelligent enough to choose my own. He doesn't seem to consider I may disagree, or may not like this field of study to stick with it all the way into a doctorate. The fact that he's paying for it doesn't entitle him to give me orders.

It's the same with aunt A. The fact that she's acting as my guardian here doesn't give her the right to arbitrarily and without any strong supporting reasons tell me what to do and what not to do, which my own parents did only on very rare occasions. I don't appreciate it. She and  uncle A feel that their old age makes them experts in everything they ever think of and they think their way is the only right way. I don't have a mind for being told what to do when the request or expectation assumes completely stupid levels of naïveté. It's also the same with aunt A's table manners. When she took off her shoes and played around with her bare feet around the table's legs the word "hooves" came to mind. For all her pretence of class and elegance she sure fails to keep up. 

Trouble came when after dinner everyone sat down to talk. Subjects of conversation were repetitive, the same old stories being told all over again, and there was a dark underlying tone to every conversation which wore me off. Paedophile priests, drug-abusing starlets, dead people... I genuinely felt guilty laughing at any of it, though they sometimes were brought to tears, and deliberately tried to remain expressionless. I particularly resent the talk of dead pets because aunt MT tried to remedy my silence bringing up my little one and I understand that her intentions are sweet but it feels sacrilegious to bring her up like that. I refuse to speak of her, especially of her death, even more so when people are laughing at other morbidly sordid stories. 

All I could think the whole time was when can I go? Can I go sleep? I want to go! Let me go! Leave me alone! I want to sleep! Won't you please shut up and end this bloody conversation already?

Up until lunch I would have just finished writing an e-mail for SmTn. Right now I settled for saving a draft and coming to the blog to say that I'm fucked and fucking tired.

Friday, 12 October 2012

If you can't kill the dinosaurs run the hell away from them

Sounds like reasonable advice for time-travellers doesn't it? How could you kill a dinosaur? Hadn't you better run away from them? Preferably back to the future?

Well, leaving aunt A and uncle A no longer sounds so outrageous and it's not just that I'd rather run away from my college application problems than have to live with the consequences. I've slowly come to the conclusion that aunt A is a crazy, selfish, mean old lady. You would think she'd become more bearable around aunt MT but what I've found is that she's even more horrible in comparison. Aunt MT is nice, considerate, easy going, tolerant and not nearly as prone to break into furious fits. Aunt MT rarely judges, she can accept being wrong and changing her mind, she doesn't pick fights, she doesn't always think the worst of everything. Aunt MT is a saint. 

Thursday, 11 October 2012

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

I could have written earlier (only 20min ago or so) that after talking with one of the advisors I felt a lot more calm about my college application. I no longer do. Here I was, asking the old man to do me a huge favour so I don't have to ask it of anyone else here when I realised, looking for something completely different, that I need two letters of recommendation. Two. And they need to follow a certain format.

I'm fucked. I'm already quite late, you see. And I'd be ashamed to ask ThPr for another letter this late in the game. Worse still, who the fuck do I ask for another letter of recommendation? Who?!

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. 

And it's not dinosaurs, though I suppose this is one problem very quickly fixed by meteors.

Oh shit.

This could wait... but I couldn't

It feels more pressing than the today's deadline for the biology assignments. I failed to mention how pretty much everything in aunt MT's bags was for me, sent by my parents. I failed to mention that they made sure to send my soma cube, the nice automatic mechanical pencils I like, and even a square grid notebook I told them they didn't have to buy. To further prove that the gifts came from the future, my folks actually included a pack of birth control pills. Aunt MT brought lots of potato and plantain chips, candy and chocolate. She even ordered fresh pastries of the ones she knows I love. Somewhat more importantly, my old man bought two small bottles of Coca-Cola (made with real sugar cane sugar and not the high fructose corn crap they put in sodas here). Silly as it may sound, I almost teared up writing that. Silly as it sounds, it was true delicious happiness (if that's really what Coca-Cola is called in Mandarin). 

Big thanks to them. Massive thanks to them. Universe-size thanks to them. Bless them.

Wednesday, 10 October 2012

Let aunt MT bring some sanity with her

Aunt A yelled at me saying I shouldn't eat any Coffee Mate because: chemicals and poison. I call bollocks. If it's for the trans fats, there's little enough that I'll be fine if I'm only having tea every once in a while. So far it's taken me two and a half months to go through one bottle of the stuff and I'm fine with it. I briefly  considered answering. I knew it would escalate because I would have had a hard time not rubbing in her face the fact that all she had for lunch yesterday was rice pudding, jelly and ice cream. What kind of choices are those for her to judge my own? I  would have had a hard time not telling her there are just as many (if not more) chemicals in the gum she always carries and chews on pretty much all day, in the "no sugar added" ice cream she eats, and in the tons of other crap she eats (and isn't at all healthy). 

Like what, you ask? Try the no sugar added ice cream bars with aspartame and maltitol and coconut/soybean vegetable oil. Try the full fat (certainly including a fair bit of trans fat) cheddar cheese she eats. Try the massive amounts of aspartame and sorbitol she gets from gum. Try the sugar-free jelly like the one she had for lunch yesterday. Try the foods she orders in restaurants "because it's a once in a lifetime sort of thing," like the loaded fries (read: French fries with cheddar cheese and bacon), or chicken fingers, or chicken wings. Try the potato chips she buys "for her grandnephew" or the pork rinds she's eaten pretty much by herself. If the worst I've got to worry about is a little trans fat when I'm otherwise eating well and exercising regularly she can shut the fuck up and let me be without yelling at me about my life choices. 

Goodness knows she's in no higher moral ground she can talk down to me from. Goodness knows she doesn't really know what she's talking about when she says "chemicals are bad for you" because she doesn't understand that the same chemical synthesised in different ways remains the same. bloody. chemical. Word. She actually prefers "all natural" pills to whatever her doctor prescribes even though I'm quite sure her doctors are well aware of the pros and cons of all medications and medicate them because they think they're worth the risk. Never mind that there's no proof that the other "natural" alternatives she takes are working at all and that's why real doctors don't prescribe them in the first place. She doesn't actually know what exactly in Coffee Mate is bad for you (hydrogenated vegetable oil) and she doesn't know that plenty other sources of saturated fats are natural and just as if not more harmful (like say, for instance, full fat cheese or bacon). It's not having trans fat at all that's bad. It's having too much trans fat that's bad for you. All animal fats contain some trans fats and that's an inevitable truth. That *gasp* includes the milk she drinks every. fucking. day. Even if it's reduced fat. Just like the Coffee Mate, it's got trace amounts which are safe enough to consume in moderation. 

Am I a Coffee Mate maniac? No. I have tea maybe two times a week and three is really pushing it. Does she understand that I'm not really consuming anything that harmful and that I'll be fucking fine? Does she understand that I get more sick hearing her rant about things she doesn't know about than from the things she says will kill me? You can bet she doesn't. Why must she get angry so easily? Why must she think she's always right without listening to reason? Why must she be a pain? Why can't she let me be? Why can't she assume that I'm an intelligent human being able to assess the risks of what I do? Is it because she so easily forgets the risks she takes when she eats the way she does? That's not my problem!

Her bloody problem, and I believe it's my uncle's problem too, is that she doesn't understand people having opinions different to her own. She believes she speaks for all majorities ever when she speaks and that anyone who dares disagree is just stupid. She believes following  the advice of Dr. Oz on television is ridiculous but when she hears something somewhere on television from a source she can't even properly quote then it's truth. Because she believes it and what she believes in is undeniable truth. Bollocks. 

[11pm edit]
Aunt MT is here. Thank goodness. We'll see how things go from here. Up until now, though? Still outraged. More outraged. By aunt A, that is. In the totally reasonable department we have dinner. Aunt MT's flight was delayed so we ended up having dinner in the airport, aunt A, uncle A and I. Uncle A ordered pasta, aunt A ordered a lasagna, I ordered a panini. Uncle A had soup, aunt A and I had salad. I was a little surprised to hear her ask for the healthiest choice of vinaigrette but thought "good for her!". I was too early. She wouldn't eat her salad until the bread arrived, because how could anyone ever have salad without bread?! Fine. The bread arrived. I ate a slice. She ate pretty much the whole bloody thing. With generous servings of the salt, pepper and spices mix which was a bit too salty if you ask me. Add it to the list above. She didn't even finish her salad. She had only half of it. If that. When her lasagna arrived she didn't eat more than a few mouthfuls, claiming she was full. And of course she was full, she'd been stuffing herself with bread. I pointed out we were having dinner and aunt MT would arrive at around dinner time, hinting at ordering something to go for her to eat when we got back. Aunt A thought it was a perfect idea to just cut out the bit where she'd been eating and let her have the leftover lasagna she would have taken home anyway to feed to the dog. I think even uncle A thought it was a bit too cheap but he said nothing.

I've mentioned nothing to aunt MT, though I was tempted to, because I had no time and I ultimately decided it's not very nice of me to point out how un-nice aunt A is. Not quite so early on. It's not like aunt MT doesn't know. Aunt MT forgot a gift for her son, my cousin. She said she'd like to buy him a shirt, which is perfectly reasonable. Aunt A thought a shirt she bought for uncle A but was far too small and he didn't like and didn't even have a tag on anymore, meaning it wasn't new would have been a good replacement. Aunt MT just said it was too small, I agreed and aunt MT  convinced aunt A to go buy another one. I saw the look on aunt MT's face. I also noticed it when aunt A brought her some shirts to wear here, none in aunt MT's taste. Aunt A has heaps of clothes stashed away fucking everywhere in the house. It's insane. She actually hoards clothes. Her giving away some of it only to buy some more is hardly an exercise in generosity. 

With the make-up, I've decided aunt A is exactly like little S from the comics: she buys expensive, nice things for herself only so she'll have leftovers to give away to others.  

After eating here when we offered aunt A to eat any of what aunt MT brought she said she couldn't because she'd had dinner and because: blood sugar. She failed to mention all she had for dinner was a lot of bread.

In the not at all reasonable department, following along the train of thought of things I wish I had but obviously have no right to? Aunt A offered aunt MT some creams and make up. She let her have some of the nice Lancôme face primer. Not that she shouldn't, but I distinctly remember asking for it when we ordered our gifts and I mentioned how cool it was. It would have been nice to get one of the samples. Then, aunt A mentioned she has an appointment for a facial tomorrow morning. Mind you, when we went out for dinner with her horrible friend she said she had to make an appointment for me in an "oh, I forgot!" kind of way. She really meant it more in a "pretend" way, maybe to look good in front of her friend, I don't know. She offered too book an appointment for aunt MT, who kindly declined saying it's too expensive. Aunt A insisted. I don't know if they're going. I know that if it had been me and I'd offered someone else before I would have remembered to make good on that offer as  well as get an appointment anyway for aunt MT. 

One nasty detail, out of the blue? Aunt MT brought pastries for me and my cousin. In the same box. She gave them to me telling me to mind the ones for my cousin. I brought some of them to show uncle A in the kitchen and then made to put the box away, sealing it back with tape and getting it ready to put it in a bag. I didn't want any moisture to get in and let them get stale because my cousin's only coming on Friday. Aunt A told me she wasn't going to eat any of them and I could put them in a glass container from the ones in the kitchen. She thought I was hiding the food from her. I know that's what I'm doing with some of the food I'm keeping in my room to separate into packages to give away when everyone's here but I can assure you the thought didn't cross my mind as I put away the pastries. I'm frankly a little insulted by her accusation.

Tuesday, 9 October 2012

Broken. You could probably see this one coming

I couldn't work, so I settled for watching YouTube videos telling myself I'd at least go to sleep early. I didn't. The drowsiness wore off, so I studied for a bit. Then I figured it was getting late and I had better go to sleep so I turned off the lights and tried to sleep. Except it wasn't happening on its own and I let my mind wander back into the dark places where I got that twisted fantasy of EBF and LesMisGuy talking. The image of LesMisGuy came to mind a bit too clearly. The memory of his face right in front of mine was a bit too strong. I'm far too weak to go over "why did he stop talking to me?" even in a scenario when it's him telling EBF. I immediately assume it's something I did wrong and that's where everything breaks.

When things go wrong, and they nearly always do, I'll find a way to blame it on me. It could be the university applications. It could be LesMisGuy wanting nothing to do with me. It could be my little one dying. Shit happens and I'm always sure it's my fault so I make sure to make myself miserable. I can't stop it. I know shit happens but I also know that I could have done more and I'll be forever lost in the what ifs. How could I not? I so miss my little one. I so wish LesMisGuy and I could have been together. I so wish EBF and I still talked like we used to. I so wish for so many things and even the simple pleasures like being by myself and not having to worry about aunt A knowing I cried and wanting to talk about it are gone. 

mind: blank

I indulged in watching television shows. For two hours, maybe more. I should know future me will regret it big time because it took time away from important things like studying and getting homework done and even saying hello to uncle A when he arrived but I'm in a quiet, be alone by myself kind of mood and I even made sure to eat dinner early. If I get hungry I'll hold it. I don't want to leave the room unless I have to go to the bathroom or something. The shows managed to calm me down numb me. It's not a good state of mind to work in. I should have known better. I'd set out to finish everything before going to sleep tonight and I won't be able to. Even though I wanted to make sure I had nothing pending by tomorrow when aunt MT arrives. Oh, the sanity she'll bring with her...

I'd better get to vacuuming her room, changing the bedsheets on her bed and mopping the garage before she gets here. *sigh*

And that's without mentioning I have a few calls to make and I don't want aunt A to hear. I'll then have to e-mail the old man and ask him for a big favour so I don't have to ask it of anyone else here. I might be in big trouble, academically, if I don't get admitted for next semester. I'm not very sure I can take enough classes next semester where I'm studying. 

I... er... Well, it's obvious by now, or it should be. I wish I had someone to talk to. I wish I had someone to tell me it will all work out all right in the end. Uncle A mentioned during lunch that I should aim for a PhD and while it's been in my plans for a while now I'm sure he means I should get it here, in what they want (just like he was trying to push the electric engineering classes) and that's not what I want. Ungrateful as it may make me sound, I'd always assumed I'd leave and get my PhD elsewhere. I'd always assumed I'd thank them and get along my way. I don't know where I'll go or what my PhD will be in. I know I'll want some more independence, though. I don't quite know how that works out with owing the money I owe, or showing aunt A and uncle A my gratitude but I can't do it by setting roots here. I dread that idea and resent everyone who suggests and insists on it.

I do so wish I had someone to talk to and that I hadn't been logged into facebook waiting for someone to log in, knowing I still wouldn't talk to them. Here's a late thanks to CtW because she was lovely the other day asking how everything was going and how I  was holding out. 

Looking over old posts I couldn't help but notice that the only person I've talked to in the last couple of months that actually makes me happy is SmTn. If you take a quick look, even just at the post titles, you can see how fucking happy he makes me. And as happy as it makes me to talk to him, write him an e-mail or read one he's written, isn't it all rather sad in the big scheme of things? My last bits of human contact come from the person who's physically farthest from me. From the one person who's so ashamed of me he only speaks with me late at night when he can afford it. This has "wrong" written all over it, even if the conversations stay appropriate and I only thank his loveliness without ever hoping for more. I'm starting to depend on him and it's a crazy thing to do, even though I'd be crazier if I didn't have him to hold me together (though I don't suppose he realises it).

Chaos, much, and far from equilibrium

It seems I may need to transfer to another university, which has me fucking screwed because I, of course, am fucking late. For everything. And, you know, *Nazgûl shriek*

On other news, let me tell you what aunt A had for lunch: rice pudding, jelly and ice cream. I am not even kidding! I said nothing. I actually did my best not to look at her or her food during lunch. I was afraid I'd give in and give her a very disapproving look and get her scorn anyway without having said anything. Fuuuuuuuuck.

I want to hide somewhere dark and quiet and stay there for a week or two. I want to be free of responsibilities, I want to be away from aunt A, I want to be out of this fucking mess.

Nothing to report

CtThumbe suggests I might have misheard MrInteresting. I'll continue to stand my ground. Our statistics instructor made a mistake again today but wouldn't understand it when I pointed it out. Nothing there to report. When I got out of class I stayed behind, deliberately, because I really wanted to pee and I wasn't going to be able to do it if MrInteresting held me back. We can talk on Thursday. Maybe. Nothing to report there either.

My mind's been wandering into the land of fantasies again. Into the fantasy of EBF talking to LesMisGuy again. You know how it goes: EBF tells him I was right when I thought we would have been perfect for each other and LesMisGuy comes out a fool for not seeing it earlier.

I've also been wondering if I shouldn't have tried one last time. If I wouldn't, perhaps, have been able to go out with him and have a lovely time that could lead to many more dates. I try to talk myself into realising that he should have at least tried talking to me. I tell myself I'm being silly quoting situations that don't quite apply. I'm not crazy for thinking he gave up on me when he suddenly broke out of the pattern: I'm not crazy for thinking his silence and lack of initiative meant he gave up. If he'd been only briefly breaking the pattern he would have spoken with me again. Something would have happened. It didn't. Nothing to report.

Monday, 8 October 2012

Dost mine ears deceive me?

Aunt A's friend died. I was late for class. I ended up working with MrInteresting's group. He may or may not have mentioned his wife. Who'd have thought? MrInteresting is actually MrFuckingMarried! I'm almost 100% sure that's what he said, but with the interest he shows I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. That is an interesting turn of events: turns out he might be more like SmTn than LesMisGuy. Interesting as it would have been, I reckon it's a good thing I wasn't attached to the idea and had not committed to it. I'll wait to be sure, and for all I know he could turn out to be a good friend to have... but boinking plans are out of the question. Will report on it later.


Almost couldn't fall asleep last night and I woke up today with a very uneasy feeling of not having rested at all. It could be a number of things, and yet I can't put my finger on it.

Could be that I fucked up my application for next semester. Could be that I'm seeing MrInteresting. Could be that I haven't printed my homework assignment due in today. Could be that I don't know if today is a holiday or not. Could be that Venezuela is in hot water for another 6 years. I don't really know. It could be something different altogether.

Unrelated fun fact: the night I dreamt of travelling mum dreamt I travelled. We basically had the same dream. My dream implied I was travelling in a hurry and hadn't quite prepared myself. Her dream implied my trip was a surprise.

[10:36am edit]
That's one way to wake up. As we had breakfast someone called aunt A to let her know that one of her gaming acquaintances had a stroke and is now pretty much brain dead. 

Saturday, 6 October 2012

Explosions and vampires

I had at least three noteworthy dreams last night.

In one, I was travelling back and it had all happened all of a sudden, so I wasn't even sure my papers were in order.

In another (and I'm having trouble choosing because it's as if I were giving whichever dream comes up last more importance) there was a vampire gone wild and he had to be stopped. To stop him, even one elder vampire was trying to help (which is actually a little doubtful, as he was the sort of character who is always on his own side). I'm now having trouble remembering anything more about this dream.

On to the last dream. Apparently, there was a profession for people who ran away from an explosion. A particular woman who lived by it (maybe me, maybe someone else) ran from a real-life explosion and started feeling guilty about all the people who ran behind her, thinking she was supposed to take the hit for them because that was part of her job description. She couldn't run back, though, so she just kept on running. Like I said, I don't know if I was her or not, but I know I was myself when I ran uphill with a group of people that included LesMisGuy. We avoided each other a little, but I distinctly remember him asking me to look down and say what I could see. I could see a big coliseum filled with murky water. I said I couldn't see much because the water was murky. The group insisted on someone else taking a look. I pointed out we should have opened some doors to let the water out as we ran uphill, like we'd done "last time." There had just been no time, it seems. I think that's all for this dream.

Now, I suppose this last dream is a little more important. Not so much because I was dreaming of LesMisGuy per se, but because of what it means to dream of him now. New guy comes into my life, and walks in making way for himself from the looks of it. He's not hesitant. He's actively showing interest. You may already know I'm talking about MrInteresting and you'll now know I've guessed his first name might be the same as my 4th grade teacher's (there's a fairly strong similarity deep behind both, if I remember correctly). I've sort of wondered what it would be like if it turned out he fancies me and whether or not I'd like to be with him or not. I know that the first thing I thought when I noticed him glancing my way in statistics class was "Oh, no! Not again! This is exactly how it was with LesMisGuy!" and I had to talk myself out of it reasoning they're not the least bit alike and I was having crazy thoughts. 

Now that I'm thinking "Perhaps it could be nice, even though I haven't had time to talk myself into fancying him like I did LesMisGuy" I suddenly have a dream about LesMisGuy. I can't help feeling that this is my unconscious way to tell myself "Whatever happened to LesMisGuy? Wasn't it him we had a massive crush on? Do you not remember? Here!"

Friday, 5 October 2012

Death and marriage

A thought has been bothering since I woke up. I got a good night's sleep, and in the course of completely waking up, getting breakfast and coming back to my room I started remembering the dreams I'd had. The one I woke up to is now completely forgotten, having been replaced by a dream I had of EBF getting married. There's not an awful lot to  it. All I know is that in the dream he had a girlfriend, a long term one like N2, but not exactly N2. She was thinner and had short (down to her shoulders) black hair (though also straight). I know it's a picture of EBF's ideal sort of woman and there's a good chance that I mixed images of Arc, N2 and Tim Burton film characters to put her together. As the story went in my dream, EBF and her had been together for a very long time. They got into a big fight and ended up sleeping on it (read: make up sex). After that they were engaged, so one must presume that he proposed that night. My first reaction was that of surprise: EBF getting married? I suppose he might not do it by the church, but even then... married? Such a strange thought. 

Then, thinking on it further, the idea struck me that in some circles (dating back to Ancient Greece) one might worry that EBF will die. Because death and marriage are opposed when you dream of them: dream of death, someone gets married and vice versa. I thought of telling him, dropping him a line, and then decided against it. Yesterday's short talk with MrInteresting felt like such a big victory and I felt an urge to tell him about it as soon as it happened, even before I wrote it in the blog. And yet I got no answer. And yet everytime we talk conversations die. And yet I forget. 

I anticipated this as early as high school, where I'd refer to us suddenly not talking as the end of the Roman Empire, in 50 a. d.  I thought this would happen whenever he and Arc became a couple, but I suppose it holds true for any other girlfriend he might get. It's at least a little silly because we first stopped talking long before he first met N2. But it's not complete nonsense because I find myself wondering if I'm not taking attention away from the girl who deserves/owns it and then decide I had better not take his time away from her. The fact remains that I'm part of an old life left behind long ago and at best I can be considered obsolete. The fact remains that in spite of all this I sometimes can't resist the urge to want to talk to him. 

I have to admit I was hoping for an immediate response from him and I kept checking in on my messages to see if he'd answered. I noticed he saw my message some three hours after I wrote it, but wrote nothing back. I checked on it again, over and over, and got nothing. I started resenting his lack of enthusiasm because I somehow expected a celebratory or congratulatory message from him. I've been kicking myself for that. I might have known better. 

For the record then, I chose to write about my dream. I chose to write it down in case something happens, in which case I'll beat myself up about it wondering if I could have done something. But also to remind myself of what it most likely means: the death of a friendship.

Thursday, 4 October 2012

Ha! But also? Fuck!

A quick one, I've got shit to do (read: homework, because I may have spent 3-4 hours last night talking to SmTn and way too  long writing an easy lab report). 

MrInteresting? EBF had a point, he might want to bump uglies with me. The thought first occurred to me during class when he quite distinctly turned and gave me a quick glance. It just may be that I gave him one too when he first sat down. I would leave at that but he made sure to catch up with me as I got out of the classroom, saying "thank you" when I held the door for him. I mostly whispered a polite "you're welcome" and as soon as we were out he stopped wasting time and just started talking: which other classes are we in together? Which led to a conversation where I found out he's studied a fair bit (at least 5 years), worked some and travelled quite a lot. Still don't know his name, but I was right about the one I gave him here. I'm a little proud of myself.

As for the Fuck! part? Well, he mentioned that the application deadline for the university I want to transfer to was yesterday. And, of course, I haven't quite finished sending everything I had to send. 'Twas a bittersweet moment of victory (finally being able to talk to him, which was nice enough) and defeat (knowing I fucked up my life for next semester).

That is all.

No, it isn't: associated soundtrack is "Helplessness blues" by Fleet Foxes.

[day after edit:]
An e-mail back and forth? I probably couldn't transfer next semester even if I'd managed to send what I have on time. I still have to complete my classes from this semester and possibly another one before I can get transcripts from those to send along with my admission. Means I might not see MrInteresting next semester if he transfers and I don't. Don't know why I'd worry.

Wednesday, 3 October 2012

That's one explanation for it

Just finished reading a David Wong article so full of ads it stopped being funny. Interesting, though, was him mentioning that people like to be angry and enjoy feeling wronged because it makes them feel righter about their choices. Anger might even get them high. If that's the case with aunt A, I'm fucked.

Tuesday, 2 October 2012

To be fair

Allright then. To be fair, aunt A did give me the eyeshadow this afternoon. Perhaps my behaviour was childish and my suspicions weren't justified. But riddle me this: she was quite visibly upset when she gave it to me. She came to my room to give it to me. She didn't offer to look at the gift bags with me. Fine. Then so be it. I know I'm entitled to nothing and I should deserve and expect nothing. If I'm going to have whims I need my own credit card so I can start paying for them. I'll order things online, I'll see what I can buy on my own when I go out without aunt A. I hate the idea of asking for anything and I can't wait around until I'm offered. The logical solution is to get things myself. Same goes for driving, though I'm afraid it's not quite as easy a task as getting a credit card.

On other news, I caved and told EBF about my compliment paranoia. I can go ahead and start by saying that the conversation died with me talking, as it always does. I might have known. He'd asked about what I miss and how things are going. When I told him he'd have to ask more specific questions than "how are things overall?" I got nothing more from him. It's still gnawing at me. On a similar subject, EBF did tell me to woman up and try talking to MrInteresting (granted, after telling me I should just get it over with and ask him to bump uglies with me). He's right, but it's also a statement easier said than done.

Also gnawing at me is the fact that I was un-nice to the salespeople at the mall today. Aunt A and her friend gathered for a half hour or so and told me to walk around for a bit. It was frankly the nicer choice because I'm not sure how comfortable I would have been sitting there with them. I walked around looking at clothes for a bit. I had no watch so I couldn't tell how early or late I was to meet them, and I chose to switch locations to where the make-up, jewellery and shoes are. Salespeople offered their help and, flustered, I told them I was just looking and they needed not worry about me. Then one lady from a make-up counter asked me something (and I can't even remember what it was) and I told her "I'm just not interested." I'm sure I could have phrased that more nicely. I was such a bitch to her. I know, she's just doing her job. I know, she was actually nice to me. I don't know what got to me and I tried to hide from her and the shoes salesman who was there after that because I didn't know what to do with myself while aunt A and her friend walked down to meet me.

I still don't quite know what to do with myself. I wasn't sure whether or not to sit at the table with aunt A and uncle A. I offered to help with the laundry. I didn't know whether to stay out with aunt A for dinner. Yesterday I attempted to stay at the kitchen table and it backfired because uncle A was in a bad mood and turned to his computer in spite of aunt A trying to start a conversation. It got the best of me and I settled for washing the dishes and then retreating to my room. It may sound strange, but it was never this uncomfortable with my parents. We either had a meal together or we didn't. If we did, it was never that bad. If we didn't, it was purely for comfort. 

... who can't take a compliment

You can call me cocky for knowing MrInteresting needed a name because this post is about him. Today during statistics class the instructor messed up some numbers on the board and I corrected him before he went ahead and did the calculations. Took two minutes total, I think. No one else had noticed the mistake. MrInteresting was sitting in front of me and, after the instructor made the correction on the board, he turned around to ask me: "Was it you who found the mistake? Good catch!" He was trying to be nice and I know it but I just wanted to bang my head against the table.

I'm a fucking lady!

The oxymoron does not escape my notice, I assure you.

Aunt A drove me to college just now. On the way here we saw a piece of garbage on the road, likely enough because it fell from one of the cans along the road, ready to be picked by the truck today. So far so good. It was quite far out, though, so when aunt A started with a story of how it must be people leaving a bloody plastic container in the middle of the road the way they leave soda glasses and beer bottles (unseen and unheard of until today) I offered it might have just been an animal, like a raccoon. I asked if there weren't any raccoons around here and she said there were both raccoons and x, where x here stands for a different name for an armadillo. She went over a story she'd already told me of how the dog found one in the yard and she "rescued"  it by yelling at the dog (the poor thing). I may have cut her short telling part of her story to let her know I've already heard it and knew where she was going with it.

Now, I only just learned that x stands for "armadillo" some 10-15min ago. Back then I just mentioned I still have no idea what she was talking about because she'd mentioned x before and I distinctly remember asking if, from its description, it wasn't an armadillo and she said no. Then I went ahead and described an armadillo, which she agreed sounded exactly like x, but she thought "armadillo" stood for "raccoon" and I'll be damned. I was relieved and if anything I was happy to have cleared that up but she started on how that's what they were called "back in her time." I said that animals' names weren't likely to change all that much from time to time and that a dog, after all, was still called a dog. She did what she does, which is try to prove a stupid claim with an even stupider one, so she went ahead and said that a lot of words have gone out of use, including one to describe teenagers. I pointed out that the fact that the colloquial ways to refer to teenagers have changed shouldn't have anything to do with the words for animals changing. She decided I was mocking her and told me so: "you're mocking me."

Well, then, she had to be fucking kidding me, right? Is she really so intent on feeling wronged by me? I complain about her on the blog a lot and to family a little but I'm quite sure I've never been rude to her or mocked her like she says I do. I don't speak to her in a condescending way. I walk on eggshells around her and my calm demeanour comes across to her as condescending (I gather). If I'm calm and extra-careful, she takes that to be me mocking her. Can you see how insane this is? How utterly crazy? I don't raise my voice. I don't yell at her or even near her. I've never been visibly upset near her. I haven't had a fit of bad temper around her (and they are quite rare, I reckon). And yet she wants to believe I wrong her, she wants to believe I look down to her, she wants to believe I mock her. I'm at my wit's end. I just don't. know. what. to. do. 

I can guess she's got a bad case of undiagnosed(?) and untreated depression but bloody hell, it needs treating and I shouldn't be stuck having to deal with it because it's just not fair on anyone. Why can't she be a reasonable adult? Why must she be so childish? Why must she keep coming up with things I do wrong? Why does she keep finding ways to "punish" me and why do I keep feeling like that's exactly what she's doing when she fails to give me the eyeshadow? It's as stupid a reason to be upset as they come, but that's the way it feels. She feels wronged by me and is out to get me. She only just pretends to be nice and generous and thoughtful. Underneath it all it's not only not genuine and not heartfelt, she resents me and I'll be damned because I've done nothing worth her scorn.

Oh, and I was looking forward to writing down a dream I had last night that included SmTn. I have only 10min left before class starts, so I'll try to get a very abridged version down here. I had a dream where N1 was in trouble so L1, A, other girls and I came over to her apartment, looking for her. We wanted to help her out. In my mind, the trouble had something to do with the guy she's sleeping with. I'm not sure this was stated in the dream, though. L1 asked about him saying N1 hadn't told her an awful lot in a long time and as I told her I "knew" in my dream that she'd been sleeping with cousin S, aunt A's youngest. He'd been sort of a jerk, too, having sex with her without a condom. She told me of a pregnancy scare. Anyway, I remember we were all there to help N1 and out of the blue came SmTn with some other guy to save the day. He and I had been talking before that but I'm sure his help came as a complete surprise. It was just so nice of him to show up and help, you know.

The rest is now blurry. There was something about some teenagers taken under SmTn's wing and then a tall spiral tower climbed by young men in swimsuits going to class. Also, there was Lisa Eldridge lost in the whereabouts of my university and needing directions. I almost set out to go find her because in my dream she was a close friend.

Monday, 1 October 2012

Hug of the day for loveliness

Though I suspect aunt A is being childish with the eyeshadow and will either forget to give it to me until she's tried it first or forget to give it to me altogether, in spite of my asking "have you had a chance to look at the gifts?", I won't write about it here and now. I have lovelier things to talk about, like SmTn.

He wrote. I'm not through reading his e-mail yet. I just had to stop to write about it. Because it's that wonderful. Because he's that amazing. He saw the 25th anniversary special of The Phantom of the Opera and said it's probably the most beautiful and capturing singing he's ever heard. Did you read that? Go back and read it again. Go back again now, until it really sinks in. I could have kissed him when he knew it was Heath Ledger who wore the same jacket as Rick Perry in the anti-gay ad. Right now I could hug him and not let go for hours.

The man would be a very high ranking officer if the medals I give him in my mind were worth anything.