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Wednesday, 31 July 2013

Words! Dream words!

I had a dream where LesMisGuy asked me to be his girlfriend, I think.

I'm no longer 100% sure, and the more I try to remember how the dream went, the less clear it all seems. I do remember there being a short episode of jealousy: he thought I fancied someone else and had backed away from me. When he got the chance, though, he asked me to make sure. The other fellow would not have stood a chance even being considered as an option, of course I didn't like him! And then he asked me something, or he told me something. This is the part I'm not so sure about. He could have asked me to be his girlfriend, or told me he had feelings for me. I don't know. All I know is that I felt relieved when he did and from that moment on we were a couple and it was lovely. I wish I could remember if we kissed.

Not quite over him, no...

Tuesday, 30 July 2013


I spoke with SmTn today. Not inappropriate on its own. Not inappropriate at all, is it, talking to friends you haven't spoken to in over a month? How about a friend you missed who admits to missing you? It's not inappropriate to say "I missed you" except when you say "I hope it is not inappropriate to say (why would it be?), but I have missed you some times."

How about a picture, the only picture of my recent trips that included me (well, not just my knees as I took a picture of my view from the grass) where I tell him the back story and he goes "if I may say, you looked beautiful :) "?

Compliment? PANIC! Is he supposed to say that? Is it wrong? Do I, really? Come on, I know I *tried,* it was the theatre, but it's also a sweaty mess... Do you really think so? But he's the only person I take compliments from! It's wrong not to say anything back, though, isn't it? He's just being nice (isn't he always?).

"thanks for the compliment"

Oh dear, is it ever harmless when a guy tells you you look beautiful? What if he fucking lives with his girlfriend? What then? Is he allowed to make an aesthetic remark? Oh, darling dear, but he's the platonic crush... it's not quite another "it's nice talking to you." (Which it always is, of course.) Shit. 

I spoke with SmTn today. Not inappropriate on its own, except for the fact that it was. 

Saturday, 27 July 2013

Back to dream logging

Had a dream last night (not that I didn't before, I actually dreamed a lot more often than usual while away, I just forgot everything except a song I once woke up to: the Beatle's "Eleanor Rigby"). 

After a Phantom of the Opera show, I ran out to get the Phantom's autograph (even if he was my least favourite Phantom). He was so nice and so sweet I joked about how I'd absolutely invite him out to a cup of coffee, which I imagined (correctly) was somehow forbidden. He said he'd ask me out to a cup of coffee himself. Fast forward a little bit and he's on his way out of the theatre and so am I. I ran to brush my teeth in a room next to his, with the hunch that he might try to reach me when no one else was there if my timing was just right and I got out before he was gone. When I opened the bathroom door I found him right there, waiting for me. He made to give me a hug and I quite daringly went for a kiss. He kissed me back. It was a quick sweet kiss. When it was over he said it just couldn't be because we lived so far away but it was lovely. 

After this I ran back to where my parents were waiting in the car. It's at least a little odd that I wanted to tell A about it (I suppose it wouldn't make a lot of sense to tell anyone else, but it's odd that I wanted to do it anyway). I couldn't quite get to it, though, because she was interviewing another lead actor from another show (he even gave her a short tour around the wardrobe and props) and was about to go in to watch it. I didn't have tickets for the show, so I just walked out and messed around with a Chinese food poster set as circles about a circumference, each displaying a character or a meal. I could move them with my mind, "lifting the food up" (in some cases, dripping with sauce or whatever was near it) and placing it someplace else, later wondering if the change was there for anyone else and whether someone else could do the same thing. 

Silent vacations

So, we were on vacation. For a long weekend and a week, we were away from aunt A.

For a long weekend, we were with cousin S and his girlfriend. They kindly offered to buy gifts if there was anything we wanted to buy as a souvenir (an offer we ultimately didn't take them up on). For a week, we stayed at my parents' friends' house. Having seen them at most 5 times (that I remember) in a lifetime, they should have been almost strangers to us and yet they felt like family. They freely, willingly and even lovingly offered everything they had to give (which is, admittedly, not that much... they're doing well, but they're not quite as comfortable for these expenses to come easily to them). They worried about the room temperature, about the comfort of the beds we slept in, about our meals and the nutrition we'd get out of them, going as far as waking up earlier than usual to make sure we had a decent breakfast. Even through trouble, they worried we might get bored and made sure we had something to do every day for a week. Even on weekdays when they had to work, they kindly drove to pick us up and drop us off, and otherwise made sure we could move around. They even seemed to feel that they weren't doing enough for us when they were doing far more than anyone could have expected them to: they treated us like their own children and I felt at home. I dreaded the return and was sorry I couldn't get a full night's sleep on my last night there because it was just so nice being able to sleep in a cooler room. 

Bless them. They are wonderful, honest, hard-working people with kind hearts and unfortunate familiarity with hard times. I wish them all the best. However long I have to live, let him have five years of my life. I offer them freely, willingly and lovingly. To a man who's barely more than an acquaintance to me but was sweet and caring, braving emergency room pain to wonder if we were having a good time. 

It can't go without saying that I had a wonderful time for a long weekend and a week, and it was all thanks to my parents. They quite literally took money they needed and sent it our way to buy us some freedom. When I said I'd rather use the money on gifts for them they said the best gift was for us to have the time of our lives. You know, for my sister's arrival today they wanted to make sure she had a meal she'd longed for ready, and just because... they bought heart shaped balloons and left them in her room. When we got here there was nothing for lunch so we ate leftovers and there weren't even everyday groceries we might have wanted (like, say, milk and cereal). Bless them. Bless them. Bless them.

I've stated my problem here before, I believe: I'm hopeful to the point where it's deliberately stupid. That's why I always end up expecting decency and even kindness from aunt A and always end up disappointed. To think that after her being quite horrible I found bags of what I thought might be presents for us, and it turned out they were just things for someone else she'd dropped off in our room for my sister to carry. To think that after my parents and aunt MT got her nice things, bought deliberately for her, spending just a bit more than they should afford, she chose to give them "charity" instead of proper gifts. 

And let me explain myself. You know I'm particular with gifts. I believe a proper gift is something you thoughtfully buy for someone else, thinking almost exclusively of their happiness, of their needs and of what will suit them, later accommodating your budget to whatever you can think of. Shit you bought for yourself and ended up not liking/not using is not a gift, no matter how "fancy" you think it is. Giving away leftovers, especially when it's oh-so-evident, is in very bad taste. Especially if you can actually afford better but choose to use your money on more things for you so you'll have more leftovers to give away. It's the very antithesis of a gift: petty selfishness.

So... aunt A did manage to surprise us, insisting on taking us shopping(two things, about the same prices, for each... all because there were big discounts), buying us lunch and then ice cream. She even pointed out "Oh, we didn't do _____ like we said we would..." Can't help but feel it's the "too little, too late" of being a hostess to your nieces. 

My sister left today. It all was fine until my parents called and asked why my sister looked so glum. She started crying and ever since I've had trouble keeping myself from crying for an hour put together. I sort of managed to contain myself until she entered the gate but as soon as she was out of sight I just broke down. It was far from glamorous, as my attempts to breathe the tears and snot in resulted in loud, uncontrollable snorbs (snorted sobs, for you) and I would have much rather not have made a spectacle of myself in front of aunt A and cousin S but it could not be helped. I've been in this state where just about anything will make me cry, be it something beautiful, an old memory, a thought of Bta, or even just street dancers trying to make a living. My sister's departure was the tipping point. Aunt A tried to be nice, patted my back, offered we go out for lunch and asked if there was anything I needed to buy (no, I don't ever need anything that I have absolutely no money for, and she's often enough left me to pay). I just wanted to be left alone to cry in quiet and lonely discomfort.  

I started missing my sister the moment she was out of sight because now I'll be alone. I won't have someone to naïvely/brilliantly navigate aunt A's shameless lies. I won't have someone to talk to who will understand what I'm talking about. I won't have someone who shares my likes and interests to do things with and make remarks to. I have lost the last bit of feeling around family I'll have until I go back.

It's fortunate, then, that I'm going back. It's not too certain how, exactly, but I'm going back for Christmas and that's final. I have an angel (mum said it, I agree) to thank for that. It is to remain anonymous until further notice and so I won't go into the details. 

On the ways of a social life (or whatever you'd call mine) I don't exactly long to talk to A, I haven't gotten around to talking to CtThumbe, CtW or AOB and I haven't (for over a month now) heard back from SmTn. It's so much so I'm a little afraid to write any more and I worry that sending him his early birthday present (even though it was just chocolate) was somehow wrong.

So there... that's why I'd been silent.

PS: I should know better than to brave what I can safely say I'm quite positive is depression without any kind of help. I know that much.

Friday, 5 July 2013

Fortune cookie philosophy

Or, you know, maybe just "Fortune Cookie Thinking" (I can't be bothered to find out right now if it its just right with what I have in mind)... or "I know this is not a good title."


Yes, it's taking me a while to write. Mostly because I'm in no mood to write, but also because it's inconvenient (preferring to wait until my sister's quite asleep before I log in and by the time she is I will have most likely opted for going to sleep too). What have I been up to...?

First news first, little too's sister seems to have made a full recovery. She's a little weak still, but very much alive and, as far as tests can tell, healthy. It makes me very happy... because her death would have made me very sad and frankly too many things make me very sad lately.

You are worthy enough to ask and blessed enough to receive back. That's the fortune cookie I got. I chose to think it meant "Your wish for the pup to live has been granted." Any other meaning leads to trouble, doesn't it? I don't like to ask for much, I certainly don't expect a lot. 

Just take today, for instance. Since yesterday, the day had been spelled out to us: F-U-N. We'd plan something with BCM, seeing as cousin S was away. This morning it had changed to "Cousin I doesn't want to go and that's my excuse for not going (I've been known to give up the chance to go to a fun concert of an artist I know and to get to meet him in person, even though others I know are going and will have a blast). BCM will pick you girls up in the afternoon." We played around with makeup and curled my hair for fun. We prettied ourselves up. We told mum, When BCM was here I turned everything off in the room, put on my shoes, picked up a bag and the camera and came out to say hello and... "Why did you bring your bag? What are you two all dolled up for?" We didn't go out. We stayed here and started watching (thank goodness we didn't sit through all of it) that silly mock-umentary about mermaids (which BCM and husband thought was, in fact, a documentary). 

Quite sad already, but defeated, we changed into our pyjamas and lay on our beds to watch Funny Girl. I dreaded a call from home because I was fighting back tears as it was and I didn't want to tell mum about how we'd just stayed here and done fuck all. Some 10min into the film aunt A came to say "What? You girls are already in bed? I thought I'd come here and offer you a poor non-existent substitute for the fun you were to have, have you looked into your options?" No, there's nothing of the sort nearby, no, we wouldn't have you or cousin I having to drive us anywhere you didn't want to be in the first place. I cried a little (as little as I could) when she left and caught myself having to brush off a tear from my cheek when cousin I walked by the door and looked in. A good deal of it is the empty promise of fun, childish as it sounds.

LC4 didn't go to school this week and he came here on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Early in the morning (8am is early enough to have to be ready when we'd gotten used to sleeping until 11am) he'd be here. He came with that horrible contraption of his and played, minding nothing and no one. Aunt A left him be but made plans: on Monday we were to eat out so there would be something for lunch LC4 would like. He got first choice of the restaurant. He was given the chance to play and do what he pleased. While she went into the arcade games place with him, aunt A gave my sister and I money enough to buy an ice cream to share between the two of us. We bought gifts for BCM because what-was-the-last-time-aunt A-gave-her-anything? She then bought LC4 an ice cream and pretended to be surprised by their prices (it was hardly the first time she bought ice cream or noticed its price). For Tuesday she'd thought of going to a theme park or a museum LC4 would enjoy, we scrapped those plans because of the rain. Before it rained, my sister and I played with him outside and got him away from screens and videogames for a while (call me old-fashioned, but if you can't look away from the screen when real people interact with you in real life, you have trouble). On Wednesday we went to the cinema. 

Darling dears, I see no problem with this on its own. My sister and I were glad enough to help pick something BCM might like, glad enough to make LC4 eat and behave, to get lunch out, to watch a film we also wanted to watch. LC4 is a child, the closest aunt A has to a grandchild and it's nice to want to please him. But bear in mind LC4 was here for three days and she was eager to have something to do with him each day. My sister's been here for a month and see if we get similar treatment. The whole reason I got the fortune cookie was a guilt trip of aunt A's for making a scene about how she was having the worst day ever because she found out she doesn't have the best cardiovascular system (Surprise! That's what happens when you have a bad diet and a terrible lifestyle!) and why were we mad at her and making faces at her (we weren't, we went out for a fairly long walk, came back tired and were talking to my mum when she barged in to make a scene). She might have felt bad about it, because she offered to treat us to dinner (actually kind of rare). (And to think she was mad at the thought that we might want to go out and discover more of this world, walk the greater walks, see the greater sights.)

It all brings me back to the fortune cookie message. You are worthy enough to ask. Am I? Really? What am I worthy enough to ask for? Freedom? A love life? A career? A new phone? The chance to be on my own and mind my own business without it bothering anybody? A nice, cool, temperature to sleep in so I don't have to pour ice into my bed before going to sleep every night? It all sounds like I'd be asking for too much. Faust's sounds like a better deal. 

You are blessed enough to receive back. Receive what?

It could, of course, mean nothing at all because it's a silly old fortune cookie and I got it at random and why-do-I-bother-with-these-things-anyway? and goodness-knows-who-comes-up-with-these-messages but remember I'm the sort of person who doesn't believe in Church but believes in the power of lighting a candle in front of an antique figure of Virgin Mary. It's me who got the fortune cookie and it's me who keeps the messages stored where no one would look for them, like that will make them premonitory/magical somehow. 

Back to Funny Girl, then. (I owe you a review of Fiddler on the Roof: loved the music and the symbolism, finally understood where someone's name came from. Now I don't owe it.) I tried to focus on the film and on Barbra Streisand's raw talent, the music, the story to keep me from letting the somewhat-childish sadness overwhelm me. And... what do you know? The film made mw ant to cry too because it's such a wretched end for Fanny. Here's the girl who's talented and lucky enough to get what she wants by just wanting it hardly but she doesn't see the trouble in falling for a "professional gambler." Here's a strong and independent woman who's smart, and funny and who-cares-about-her-actually-lovely-looks-who-lands-the-hot (seriously, 1968?)-guy. Here's the girl who's lucky enough to turn a one-night-stand with the man she lost her virginity to into marriage. Here's the girl who left her career for the man she loved and it turned out to be the right gamble (because her career would be right there for her anyway). Here's that girl, in love with a man who is no good for her. And she's helpless until she sort of isn't. And the real Fanny Brice had three unsuccessful marriages, goodness knows if she ever knew a loving, stable relationship. No, you can't have it all. But don't you wish she could? Doesn't she deserve it? If she doesn't... what hope is there for the rest of us? You know, when she met Nick after those 18 months I was telling myself "they're going to break up: she wants him too badly."

And I remembered a dream I had two nights ago. Where I remembered a dream where I'd had the most useless "epiphany:" LesMisGuy wanted nothing to do with me after that night when we kissed because I reeked of desperation and I wanted things to work out between us too badly. The thing that gave me away was trying to hug him and lay my head between his shoulder and his neck and thinking there was this big ulterior reason that he was there kissing me beyond "I wouldn't mind having sex with you." It's pathetic enough that I'm still thinking about all this, that it still troubles me. It's sad enough that I gain such insight through dreams and that I have to remember a dream inside another to tell myself: "That's what you did wrong: you wanted it too badly." Isn't that a horrible thing to say to a hopeless romantic? Don't we romantics believe that if you want something badly enough and are otherwise a quite good person then you deserve it?

Isn't it depressing when the last thing telling you it's still okay to dream is a silly old fortune cookie message?

PS: In case you're wondering, I haven't heard from SmTn. I left A a somewhat late congratulatory message for getting everything sorted out to go study some more and haven't written anything more to CtThumbe though it's high time I did because... I don't know what to write. It's been forever since I last talked to AOB or N1. I couldn't give less of a fuck about EBF, though I was tempted enough to tell him of something funny and then get no response and even so wanted to show him something else funny because I'm an idiot but I held myself back that second time.