Search This Blog

Thursday, 31 October 2013

Scary

Want to know what's scary? What's keeping me up tonight? Worse than ghosts or nightmares?

Debt.

Through my by-the-rules insistence, afraid to make the debt worse, my parents are as of November stuck paying more bills. Bills I'm sure they won't be easily able to pay. I've been thinking about it. Even if I ask for money for Christmas, even if I buy nothing but chocolates for everyone for my remaining Christmas presents (except aunt MT, I'm getting her Nars' Heat Wave lipstick), even if I use the money in my modest piggy bank and it were somehow magically enough to make the smallest of the debts go away, it wouldn't help much. The smallest of the debts is also the most ridiculous one, because it's somehow set to be paid in ten fucking years and though it's been paid every month for at least a year now, which should amount to at least a quarter of what it was originally, I'm sure we haven't made a dent on it. I'm actually a little afraid to know what is owed now because I'll find that my estimates are too low and I can't pay it in full yet. Even though paying it in full makes little difference because the new bills will come for five times as much money. Fuck.

Making matters worse, I scored an 85% in today's test. Which I sort of studied (crammed) for last night. Somewhat upsettingly, it was all just memorisation. Much more upsettingly, I could half-remember reading the passages referred to but couldn't remember what was in them (well done, brain!). The real kicker is that I didn't study earlier even though this time I was actually aware of the test. Worse still, I have done nothing to study for the test next week. Or is it the week after? Even if it's not next week, I should have a project idea ready then and I've done nothing of the sort. I haven't worked on the other project either. I can't even say I'm paying attention during classes because I find myself more and more lost in them. I'm either thinking of SmTn, not having friends, debt and other money problems, therapy (or lack thereof), Christmas presents, chez les A related problems, EBF, loneliness, and bloody money problems.

I failed to mention one of the therapist's pieces of advice: treating myself to something nice (could be just a cup of tea) on shitty days. I'm starting to feel bad about those. The problem with the therapist is that she doesn't seem to have had money problems. She can only pretend to understand them so much and then she goes out and says something like "Don't worry about your student loans, your parents will pay for them. That's their job." Well, fuck, woman. I'm old enough and smart enough to realise they're literally living paycheck to paycheck on very unreliable paychecks and sometimes can't buy groceries on the last week of the month but sure, they'll fucking pull through because they're my parents. Even when I pile more debt on. I need to make a contribution somehow and right this fucking instant I don't even know if I'll have a job next semester or any of the ones after that. 

Shit, I haven't even talked to an academic advisor or planned out my semester next semester. Fuck. 

I want to just find stupid YouTube videos to fall asleep to, but I can't quite.

Freedom to move around town at will is still two months away. So is tango and so are all interesting activities. If they even allow it. I'm a full month and a couple of weeks away from leaving. 


I looked. In over a year, as far as I can tell, only 2/5 of the money paid has actually chipped away at the debt. Which is pretty much as big as always and can't be paid unless I forgo Christmas presents altogether and use whatever I'm given to pay for it (without emptying my bank account). Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.


To make matters worse, I know my parents won't sleep well tonight either. When working yourself to the bone is not enough, life just fucking sucks.

Halloween

I said I'd write about it, didn't I?

Today is a good day, I figure. 

Can we talk about death for a moment?

I don't like it. I don't like mention of it, hints at it or even the thought of anything physically painful. It all makes me flinch. I don't know if I've mentioned it before but the thought of dying (myself, other people*, animals*) can bring me to tears if I dwell on it for too long. I don't like the way the news loves to centre on people getting hurt/killed and I hate every minute of conversation spent talking about such news. No, I don't bloody care if someone got killed in a grocery store's parking lot. Do tell me there was a natural disaster and people need help, spare me the gut wrenching images and videos. Don't fucking show me war. I don't know how many would agree with me, but I'd take my distaste for death a bit further: I don't like such things being discussed around children and I judge every single person who dares bring up the subject in the presence of a child. 

Though I agree that the concept of death is an important one for children to be aware of, there should be some tact in the way it's brought up in conversation. I believe in explaining why some behaviours are dangerous and can lead to serious injury ("serious injury" being something best left to the imagination of someone who feels a scrape on the knee is very close to what the end of the world feels like). I believe in explaining why loved ones won't be there any more and teaching how to deal with the ensuing emotional pain. I don't believe in lying to disguise or ignore important issues, but I do think it's fair to scale them down by appropriate word choice. If a child is playing parkour on furniture I think the right thing to say is "Be careful. You can fall and bump your head." not "Don't do it. You will crack your head and die." To explain that some objects (knives, guns, some tools and even some toys) are dangerous I'm all for saying "You can get hurt." rather than "You will lose your [limb/body part/life]." I quite simply don't believe in using intimidation through fear of death or serious injury. Not when you can use warnings to treat them like thinking little people who can tell the difference between doing something that will cause them pain and something that won't. Before they're thinking little people they either need you to make sure they don't get in trouble or need no more than a firm "No!" to stay away from it.

So, to recap: death is cool. It invites thoughts about the living and life and what you do with it to make it count. The gruesomeness of it all is not appropriate for children (or so I say).

Why bring children into the discussion? Well, because Halloween. Duh. 

I'm not exactly sure how we ended up marketing Halloween to children, but we did. And it's fine by me, really. More than fine. If you think of Halloween as a cultural phenomenon, one where we celebrate death and life and for reasons unknown to me we play with our identities while indulging in candy (not sure how those ended up in the mix either), it's not that bad at all. Religious folks who worry this is all about worshipping the devil, may I point out that 1) I really wouldn't call it worship, 2) it's not the devil if you're not into doing bad things (i.e. dressing up as a witch certainly beats dressing up as an inquisitor) and 3) you're the ones intimidating others through lies only you believe in. You will have to excuse me for calling them lies but we can't call "hell" a universal truth and for the subject matter of this conversation it's as real as Hades and Faerieland. As I was saying, Halloween is a night when we get in touch with mystery and the unknown. You could argue these aren't the words of a true scientist, but I would have to bring up the fact that curiosity of the unknown is what started science in the first place. Superstition comes in where our brains fill in voids that science can't just yet and, as long as they're not harmful, they're just good fun.

It doesn't matter if you don't believe in ghosts. You have probably wondered what happens to our soul/consciousness/self when we die and ghosts are just one answer we'v never completely given up on. It doesn't matter if you don't believe in magic. The truth is that most everything we don't understand the workings of is magical. Imagine yourself in a dark room where only very faint figures are visible. Science shows you what those things are. Superstition is everything you thought of until  you shone some light on them. There's a certain beauty to how much we could imagine and these alternatives are often more interesting than the real things so I do think it's legitimate to keep their spirit alive even after proven wrong. This is even true of religion, come to think of it. If it's ever proven without a shadow of a doubt that faith is a lie, it's the pretty lies surrounding it that are worth keeping the traditions. Like with Christmas.

I can't tell you why we eat candy on Halloween. I can only guess pumpkins and scarecrows have some kind of Autumn-related association. Witches, creepy dolls, black cats and the like are there for the unknown factor. I suppose that's why in some places they also bring up aliens for the decorations. Mummies, skeletons and ghosts are there for the death element of the unknown. Dressing up, if I had to guess, was probably to fool haunts into not bothering you. I like the fact that it plays with the unknown inside you: who/what can you be? Who/What would you like to be? Gore, however, is a completely different matter. You see, while I understand it's linked to the whole death subject, touching on the nitty gritty specifics of it is just a needlessly unpleasant reminder. 

While I respect and even admire the curiosity behind "what keeps me alive?" and "what's inside me?" questions, I don't really share in that curiosity. I understand they're important matters, because they led to fields like taxidermy, medicine, biology and anthropology. I don't mind at all if gruesome injuries don't bother you in the least and you can skin an animal without flinching. I do mind having to look at zombies and people who might as well have been in a horrible accident. Understand that I look away or close my eyes during violent, bloody or even just painful scenes, I can't even look at needles when they're going near me (though I can brave the pain of getting my blood taken for a sample) and an unsuspecting glance at raodkill can upset me. The fun of being spooked is lost to me when it's done through images of violence. Not that I'm particularly keen on being spooked, but I can see an element of fun in being startled and then finding there was nothing to worry about.

Not quite the same as being scared of a zombie who is actually just a person dressed up as one. The gut reaction is a different one, even if we also associate it to fear. Just like a nervous laugh has nothing to do with laughing at something genuinely funny. To deliberately make oneself watch or witness true (or fake-true) horror is torture for me. To play with guts, blood and death seems a bit disrespectful for a species who mourns and buries their dead. The whole reason we started burying dead people (as I understand it) is because we couldn't' bear the thought of seeing them rot and turn into carrion. Why would you negate all those years of treating dead people as people and not just sacks of meat and bones? I just don't understand it.

There's a nugget of truth there, I guess: we do turn into sacks of meat and bones. My issue is that we weren't always and we deserve special treatment. Organ donors aren't bits of meat. They were people who chose to help others and there's a difference. Though we are just a collection of cells and molecules, we are also thinking, sentient beings science can't completely explain just yet. As such, we are magical. Some good, some bad, some deserve to live and others not so much. All magical nevertheless. To treat magical beings as objects is just off to me.

A good doctor sees patients, not experiment subjects. A good biologist sees organisms, not molecules. A good taxidermist will give new life to the animals (who died of natural causes). It's one thing not minding the gore, it's another if you can't see through it. It's one thing if you want to play being scared, it's another if you do it by playing with very real scenes of death.

So, um... tone down the violence, everyone. We can have fun without it. Thanks.


*Disclaimer: It's admittedly hypocritical to say that of all people and animals. It's only true of those I have an emotional attachment to or could empathise an emotional attachment for. I'm not a vegetarian and, while I'm not 100% proud of eating meat I also don't feel particularly guilty about it.

Selfish, selfish, selfish!

Aunt A wants nothing to do with me today. She's going out for lunch with a friend so I suggested I can stay around campus longer so she doesn't have to interrupt her afternoon out to pick me up. No problem. So she called me when I was supposed to be in class (what's that to her, anyway?) to tell me she talked to uncle A and will make him go out of his way and be a full hour (or more) late to the office just so he can pick me up instead of her. It was already arranged! All she had to do was stop by the bus stop when she was on her way back from meeting with her friend! But no. Now I have to inconvenience uncle A and feel bad about whatever decision I make. If I don't want to inconvenience uncle A, I'm deliberately inconveniencing aunt A who has made it clear she doesn't want to have to pick me up from the bus stop. If I do as she says, I'm stuck in the damned warm house having made uncle A late. 

Fuck.

I hate this.

Tropical house and Halloween

I had two dreams I remember last night. The first was a nightmare. I was with two other women (Kfex from school1 and odd up/down girl from summer school) in an old convent or other religious building where graves were kept underground. We were looking for the tomb of a woman. We had to do something else before (I think we were replacing something inside the tomb, possibly the body itself, except it was kept in a chest, not a coffin) finally going out and looking for it so we'd been walking for a while along corridors when we stopped at the floor where her tomb was supposed to be. It was dark and trying to turn on the lights didn't work. We walked over there anyway and to try and figure out how to open the tomb, Kfex held her phone in camera mode, which emitted some light. At one point she asked me to look at the screen on her phone, i.e. the image being picked up by the camera. She wanted to know if I was seeing what she was seeing and I don't know if that's what she saw (though I think so) but I saw the ghost of a woman in a shirt and pants pink pyjama, sitting on a small set of 3 or so stairs. I freaked out, ran away as fast as I could and woke up a little afraid to open my eyes or even move because that's what nightmares do to me. I wished I had someone to hug me or just anyone at all close to me in bed. SmTn came to mind and I conjured him as best I could with my imagination, pretending he was there beside me and could hug the image of the ghost (which scared me, even awake, just thinking about it) away.


That's probably why the other dream I remember involves SmTn. It's set in a tropical place, warm and a bit humid. There are swimming pools and my family is there on vacation. Quite a few relatives and extended family are there, and then, so are a few foreigners on vacation. I remember walking past a family with children playing in a pool. I walked around with SmTn for a while and, in a big house (the biggest one, I suppose, modelled after the old one in the islands, with everyone there) we were about to part ways. I told him he couldn't handle two wives or two lovers or two whatevers. I'm not sure what he said then but it led to him following me to my house (in the dream I have a house of my own, at least three stories high and shared with other people). It was more tropical rainforest than tropical island, this one. My point is that he followed me to the house and one must assume we slept together because I remember waking up next to him. We were late for something and we had to skip breakfast. We played around with the dog (same one as here in the dream) and had her running around barking and stopping mid run to be petted by both of us. The old man was showing around the second floor of recent construction. It was a roundabout walkway with a small fence/bar looking down. Uncle A's sister was there and so was my grandmother. They both tried holding on to the rail and the old man warned against it. Uncle A observed the now bent rail. This is what I woke up to.


Is it worth noting that when I woke up from the nightmare I was disoriented and it took me a good few seconds to even remember which bed I was in and where in the world that bed was?

Wednesday, 30 October 2013

I don't even know why I bother

The pyramid scheme EBF tried to get me to join was put in a list of frauds to be looked into. It was on a reputable (I think) magazine's website and I chanced upon it reading the news. I don't know why I care enough to tell EBF about it and to suggest he might want to jump ship. "Jump ship. You may want to consider jumping ship. ASAP. Quick"

I don't know why I fucking bother. What do I fucking care? Why do I worry about him even now? Why do I tell him about things he probably knows?

I have one possible answer: because I don't want to fully believe he knew it was a scam and deliberately tried to sell me into it. I would rather believe he, a smart and perfectly capable person, fell prey to the scam and was brainwashed into genuinely thinking it was a good thing, than think he was deliberately lying to me. I know his morals are not without reproach, but I always thought I could trust him to be good to me/around me. It's the way it used to be and goodness knows why I think it should be that way even now. 

I'm horrible at letting go. 

Oh, what do you know? He's trying to stand by his shady company. He's trying to defend it. He thinks there's a fucking difference. Well, fuck it. Now I know for sure I was stupid to worry. He's either that brainwashed or he seriously doesn't mind lying like that to my face. I'm done doing anything about my worries. I'll go on worrying in silence now.


Soundtrack of the day: Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody."



Tuesday, 29 October 2013

Bye bye

The song that was in my head this morning as I put on some clothes and initially attributed to some boy band (going as far as thinking it might be West Life) and then completely forgot about so it took me most of my afternoon to remember? The Four Season's (you'll excuse me for not keeping proper track of the right name here) "Bye Bye Baby." And I only had the chorus stuck in my head, and I didn't know the lyrics to the song until 20min ago when I looked them up, and I can see my brain did a great job finding fitting lines for the thoughts in my head. Here, let me show you why:





If you hate me after what I say
I can't put it off any longer
I just got to tell you anyway

Bye bye baby, baby goodbye (bye baby, baby bye bye)
Bye bye baby, don't make me cry (bye baby, baby bye bye)

You're the one girl in town I'd marry
Girl I'd marry you now if I were free
I wish it could be

I could love you, but why begin it
'Cause there ain't any future in it
She's got me and I'm not free so

Bye bye baby, baby goodbye (bye baby, baby bye bye)
Bye bye baby, don't make me cry (bye baby, baby bye bye)

Guess I never will know you better
Wish I knew you before I met her
Gee, how good you would be for me

Should have told you that I can't linger
There's a wedding band on my finger
She's got me and I'm not free so

Bye bye baby, baby goodbye (bye baby, baby bye bye)
Bye bye baby, don't make me cry (bye baby, baby bye bye) 

For what it's worth, I'm almost done being sad about SmTn. Well, I'll always be sad about it, and I'll always think of him with a smile. What I mean is that I'm no longer sad enough to want to break into tears about it.

[Halloween edit]
Now I know why I almost thought it might have been Westlife. The version I was thinking of wasn't the Four Seasons', it was the Bay City Rollers'. Mystery solved.

Monday, 28 October 2013

Sword, food, hands

I remember two of the dreams I had last night. In one, I was my usual self sitting down in a classroom-like arrangement of chairs somewhere in the back. The people in the chairs were from school1, though there were quite a few people I didn't recognise. Someone took my seat, so I changed seats. My seat faced to the back (instead of the front, I don't know if I was missing out on anything). Which is why I didn't know who wouldn't cut it out grabbing my waist from behind me. I put my hands under his and separated them and he sometimes left it alone but he'd eventually come back to it. Until I actually spoke up and said "Stop it already!" and he jumped in his seat when he saw it was me. He thought it was someone else (wouldn't have been very acceptable then either, I reckon, but I suppose that's between him and this other girl he had in mind). One of the alpha girls congratulated me for putting him in his place.

In the other dream there was this little girl with magic powers. Her powers were tied to a sword she could call to her and when she did, it would glow blue and move towards her. However, she was not the one keeping the sword, some crazy scientist type man was keeping it for/from her. One night she sneaked into his place and dressed up like a coat of armor to "fit in" the mess that was around her. She had deliberately chosen this disguise on account of the day of the year or maybe the time. She got caught and the man was very much surprised and upset and many things not knowing who she was until she said she could prove it was her by calling the sword to her. She did and not just the sword but everything in the room turned towards her and moved a little in place. When she was done with her proof she motioned everything back in place with her hand. Then the man gave her the sword for good, except he covered it with a katana (so that the sword now had two hilts, one after the other. Worth pointing out, the magic sword was broken. It was only some 20-30cm long and it was still supposed to be stronger and more powerful than any other sword. I "knew" that when they disguised it with the whole katana, the katana would eventually break and reveal the real sword underneath.

Wait, I remember another dream. There was a third dream where I was at a fancy restaurant wondering what to order. There was a big family reunion (except people from school1 were there too) and we were spread throughout the restaurant in different tables. I was on a table on my own (surprise!) and had not been able to get my hands on a menu for  a very long time, so I was a little late and rushed ordering. They had this very peculiar dish of different coloured potatoes (they had two dishes, each with a predominant colour: one was purple with bits of yellow, the other I can't remember). Except it wasn't all potatoes. I suppose the rest might have been some Japanese style mold thingies (sorry, Japan) made of something very starchy and coloured for presentation. I distinctly remember some of these looking like ice cubes with a lilac base and purple "body." They looked quite pretty and nutritious but it was just an appetiser and I didn't want to order anything I wouldn't eat.

Sunday, 27 October 2013

I want to write a story

Well, I do and I don't want to. I've done fuck all (useful) all day because I found the "Cooking with Dog" YouTube channel and you can waste so much time watching a gifted chef cooking next to a poodle. 

The story I want to write is about

Hold on.

I think I can half remember something from my dreams... except not quite. I had this notion when I woke up that if I'd slept only a short while longer I might have been able to make a wish and that wish would have been to meet with SmTn again. I'm not sure what the actual dream was or why it was too late to make that wish. 

Back to the story, it's related. I want to write a story about SmTn, like I did about LesMisGuy. With LesMisGuy I got some sort of closure and I'm hesitant to write one about SmTn because then it will be completely final. I will have to admit it's a lost cause and just move on because it's hopeless. Even now I find myself wondering if I won't, perchance, run into him (very, very unlikely). I ask myself what it would take to be anywhere he'd be and... well, I won't be. I don't think so. I still want to, though. While I could make it a story with an indefinite or ambiguous ending, that's not what I want for this one. I'm not quite sure how to put it in words just yet. I don't know what I want the story to be. I do know I've been watching The Swingle Singer's version of "Libertango" a few too many times. Too many because I've been watching it over and over trying to figure out what the blonde and the lead singers' stories are. Is it for the lead that she's alone and everyone else has a someone? Is it that the blonde took away her man or that she wants the blonde's man and it just can't be? I realise I'm projecting. That's why I know it's stupid to think too much of the way the blonde throws something at her mirror in a furious fit and ends up alone. 


The thing is... I'm not sure what I am to SmTn. He's happy now and he was happy when I met him. He did not at any point need me in his life. I can't give myself credit and say I somehow made his life happier because I have a cripplingly low self esteem and why didn't you guess that? My point being that he ended up where he started and nothing has changed for him. Except, by his count, he's now met two (pardon the expression) "soulmates." One of which led to heartbreak and the other one being me. He can't do anything about it because he's happily married (if you don't mind, I'll go ahead and just call it that). He doesn't need to do anything about it because he's happily married. By that logic he could, too, have just kept to himself in summer school and none of this would have happened. Except I asked for his e-mail address. I could have kept to myself but didn't because hopeless romance is what it is. And to him reality is a bitch but, as far as I'm concerned, his is a happy reality and I was just an alternate one, not unlike like a dream.

I'm the girl of his dreams. Don't be ridiculous, linaThumbe!

It is, to an extent, say that I'm just a figment of his imagination. He can fantasise about me and be silly with me and rant and tell me about his day and voice his opinions about the news in a way (I imagine) is similar to the way he would just think about them. All my nonsense, when it doesn't correspond to any silliness on his side, is just that: nonsense. So it's not Girl You Want and it's not Gala either. 

What kind of story can a dream character tell? What kind of story is available, other than what the dreamer can come up with? When I figure it out, I'll let you know.

[11:17pm edit]
I know. I should be writing my story, no less. Except that's a very general description, still. Is it fair to say that people in your dreams are characters? Yes, they're just figments of your imagination not unlike a character in a story, but are their lives tied to yours like they would be if you were consciously writing them down?

Friday, 25 October 2013

Now, I write some more

Today's post starts with what I left out of yesterday's: therapy. I tried writing a list of the things I wanted to talk about in the very last minute but didn't really use it. We ended up talking about the usual and, towards the end of the session, the therapist said we could work on my social skills and learning to make friends and... "more than friends" (her shitty terminology, not mine). I thought it peculiar that she offered this last thing like some kind of prize and also like a necessity of sorts.

I was in a room full of allies today. Not so surprisingly, most of them were women. Somewhat surprisingly (and disappointingly) a good few of them were only there to fulfill some requisite for a class (they can't have been too passionate about). I can now say I'm slightly better educated on all things LGBTQ. 

I was also in what felt like a television show. A bad one from the 90s with a cartoonish therapist and two equally cartoonish girls with social anxiety issues. It's one thing if I can't talk to people and I'm socially awkward and too easily made uncomfortable... and it's another if they freak the fuck out in mock conversations with me and the therapist and each other. I'm torn between wanting to show up again because it might help them (and make the therapist's life a little easier) and not wanting to because I'm too lazy and I'm not 100% sure it's useful for my goals. I just don't know yet. I'd talk about it with the therapist but she's busy next week so we'll meet a week from Halloween.

I think it's worth noting that she can't seem to figure me out completely. She was surprised by the fact that I like Yelle (or said she was a French, female version of Mika) and she was surprised to see me wearing bright red pants. She'll eventually not be so surprised, I think. It may just be her ego and wanting to think she's got me all figured out. Not just yet. She'll get it pretty much bang on eventually, but not yet.


If you must know, I'm still upset about SmTn. Well, not about him, about the situation. I've reached the point where I overthink everything and I'm now beating myself up for saying "Thank you for being my friend" because it's fucking stupid. And I'm beating myself up even harder because he said he'd remember me with a smile. 

Fuck.

One a somewhat related note, I appreciate the fact that he didn't delete me from his contacts list and I can see him online all the time from his phone. Even if we never talk again, it feels like he's there with me in a way and it makes things a little bit better. It really is worth noting that, while seeing LesMisGuy or D around upset me enough that I cut all ties to avoid driving myself crazy, seeing SmTn just makes me smile. I see him there and it's almost as if we could still talk. Though it makes me sad to go through my day thinking of all the things I'd like to tell him about, knowing I never will, I like to pretend that since he's "there" I'm already sort of sharing. I don't know. This all sounds rather silly when I put it in words like that. 

Thursday, 24 October 2013

Is this goodbye?

SmTn is not online. Which is to say... he is, he's just online from his phone like he always is but it's not the kind of online where he talks to me. And it could mean anything from "he's just not available to talk right now" to "he doesn't want to talk to me ever again (and with good reason.)" Well, the range isn't very broad, I'm almost certain it's one of those two. And I'm terrified because I really wanted to say goodbye. I really wanted to say... I don't know what I would have said. I don't know what he would have said but I wanted to read it. I'm terrible at break ups. Terrible!

I don't know what to do because my first impulse is to write him another e-mail or drop him a message asking if we can talk. Except I don't know what we'd talk about! I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't have just said everything in conversation form... I'm starting to worry that I should have said everything in conversation so he got to say what he needed to and I at least got to say goodbye. I'm freaking out because I didn't say goodbye!

It's not like he died or something! I'm the one who made the decision not to talk to him anymore! It's supposed to make me the bigger person, but I feel tiny because it means I won't talk to him anymore. What kind of fool tosses aside their best friend like that? What kind of coward leaves an e-mail saying "I'm going to avoid a conversation by just writing an overly-long e-mail about how we can't talk." What kind of idiot expects any response after such an e-mail?

Enter Barbra Streisand's "What Kind of Fool" song. Of course. 


(I could swear there was a version by her alone, without Barry Gibb... nothing against him, I love his voice, I just don't think it works in this particular song.)

And here I am in my office, waiting for him to talk to me, (half-)knowing (read: "knowing but not admitting") he won't. Starving because I didn't bring lunch and won't be back in the house any time soon. I guess it's a good thing I filled a drawer in my office with food for just such an occasion. I'm afraid to leave just yet because he might talk any moment now and I won't feel safe leaving until it's 5 or so. I... I want to say goodbye. I should have said goodbye in my e-mail! I should have waited to talk about it! I shouldn't be expecting to talk now! I'm a horrible person!

... Here they are. The feels... The feels! And I'm in my office for another hour and a half... just waiting to see if they have good reason to get worse!

[4:18pm edit]
He's online from Skype now. Not his phone. Online-online. 

He hasn't said hello yet. 


I so very much want to.

No, wait. It no longer shows that warning telling me to introduce him to Skype, it just says "Messenger." I don't know what that means. Except it doesn't say "(on a mobile device)" so maybe he really is online-online. Except online-online doesn't mean anything if he doesn't talk to me. And he's not supposed to. He shouldn't. He wouldn't want to. He most likely won't. 

Hi. If you're there... my last e-mail notwithstanding, do you want to talk? I'm sorry I just threw that at you like a huge bucket of cold water out of nowhere. For what it's worth, I wanted to say goodbye properly. I wanted to say...

You're wonderful and I love you.

I loved being your friend.

I adore you.

For what it's worth, I wanted to say goodbye properly. I wanted to say... I wanted to say nice things and I can't find the right words. 

Thank you for being my friend. You're one of the most wonderful people I know and I'm happy I met you.


He was there. He's online now and I can't hold back tears.

First thing he said to my first piece of message was "are you ok?" And... *swoon*. Also, *teary eyes* I asked if he wanted an honest answer and he understood the answer was no. I elaborated. He was about to send an e-mail.

Hi,
I'm sorry if I have said something that has made you feel uncomfortable. It has never been my intention. I'm a little surprised of the content of your email, but I kinda expected something like this to come up at some point. Guess it was inevitable.

Maybe it's best if I just wish all the best for you. You will do great :)



I will remember you with a big smile,

SmTn

I am now officially brokenhearted.


Oh, and

I'm sorry, Pf2. I know you could guess I was crying in my office and it must have been awkward. I promise never to make such unprofessional use of the office in the future. Thanks for respecting my privacy and not trying to talk to me until I left my office. 

PS: I'm sorry the exercises I've come up with aren't so medicine-y or quite as good as you'd like them to be. I'll try to make up for it with the next batch.

New song for the soundtrack is The Beatles' "Michelle."





[4:40:48 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: Hi. If you're there... do you want to talk? I'm sorry I just sent that last e-mail out of the blue like a huge bucket of cold water. I'm sort of regretting not waiting to have a conversation and letting you say whatever you had to say. I don't know if you have anything to say.

[4:41:47 PM] Tony Liimatainen: Hi I Was just about to email You.
[4:42:16 PM] Tony Liimatainen: Do you want me to send it or talk online?
[4:43:06 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: we can talk, if you like
[4:43:58 PM] Tony Liimatainen: Let's be quick then, could you wait a sec so that I log on with computer
[4:44:05 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: ok
[4:44:49 PM] Tony Liimatainen: hi, i'm here
[4:44:57 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: hi
[4:45:11 PM] Tony Liimatainen: are you ok?
[4:46:00 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: honest answer?
[4:46:28 PM] Tony Liimatainen: i take that as a no then
[4:46:55 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: I'm a little (more thana little, even) sad... but I stand by what I said and see no alternative
[4:46:57 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: how are you?
[4:47:17 PM] Tony Liimatainen: i'm ok
[4:47:25 PM] Tony Liimatainen: little disapointed
[4:47:29 PM] Tony Liimatainen: but i understand
[4:47:58 PM] Tony Liimatainen: Hi,
I'm sorry if I have said something that has made you feel uncomfortable. It has never been my intention. I'm a little surprised of the content of your email, but I kinda expected something like this to come up at some point. Guess it was inevitable.

Maybe it's best if I just wish all the best for you. You will do great :)



I will remember you with a big smile,

Tony
[4:48:08 PM] Tony Liimatainen: that was the email i was about to send
[4:49:04 PM] Tony Liimatainen: oh, i'm not disappointed in you, but the way things go in the world in general
[4:49:14 PM] Tony Liimatainen: reality is an itch
[4:49:40 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: she is... I'm not sure it makes a difference, but it's not what you said that made me feel uncomfortable
[4:50:29 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: I guess the best way to sum it up is to say that the situation as a whole is not ideal
[4:50:44 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: well, the context
[4:51:28 PM] Tony Liimatainen: yes
[4:51:49 PM] Tony Liimatainen: maybe it's the time to shake hands then my friend
[4:51:56 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: maybe it is
[4:52:01 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: For what it's worth, I wanted to say goodbye properly. I wanted to say... I wanted to say nice things and I can't find the right words. 

Thank you for being my friend. You're one of the most wonderful people I know and I'm happy I met you.

[4:52:15 PM] Tony Liimatainen: same to you
[4:52:34 PM] Tony Liimatainen: goodbye then
[4:52:40 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: goodbye
[4:53:42 PM] Tony Liimatainen: Well, I guess this is it
[4:54:13 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: I guess it is
[4:54:20 PM] Tony Liimatainen: Bye

[4:54:32 PM] Lina Fajardo Gomez: bye

Always Like This

I forgot what I dreamed about last night. I know I had dreams and I meant to write them down, but I forgot. I woke up several times last night. The temperature was nice and cool for the first time in a very long time, but I woke up at 4, then at 6, then at 7 and at 7:20 and 7:50 (my alarm was set for 8). I don't know what's with me. Except I do, sort of... I'm anxious about SmTn.

So, I'll just write about the song in my head this morning, "Always Like This" by Bombay Bicycle Club 




and about the sweet little girl on the bus this morning. She was happy and lively and eager to greet the bus driver, and me and the only other person on the bus besides her mum. She could barely talk (so I figure she must have been about 1-2 years old) but when she saw my student ID she said "Is that your ticket?" and, why, yes it was. How clever of her. I don't know her and I couldn't recognise her a year from today (or even a week from now, for that matter) but I wish her to grow healthy and ever smarter. Her mum struck me as a strong, intelligent and independent woman. I wish them happiness.


Side note: I don't dare file this under physiognomy but I had a bit of a hunch about what exactly might be off with my nanomedicine occasional glancer. I do very much hope I'm wrong, but I think he may have been abused as a child.

Tuesday, 22 October 2013

Expiration date

*sigh* 

I think it's time.

As adorable as he is, as sweet as he is, as lovely as it is to talk to him, as much as I adore him, even though he's my last link to nice, intelligent conversations and random bits of silly nonsense... I think we have to stop talking.

Maybe I'm over-reacting because when he was online today we started talking about work and when I said "How about we don't talk about work. Are you resting from all the partying?" he said "I'm just resting because, I don't feel like doing anything special." I read it as him being defensive which is, admittedly, the right response because I can't say I was being 100% jovial with my question (if you must know, it's because I suspect the partying has to do with a wedding he hasn't brought up and never will.) However, defensive is also the response to talking to your emotional mistress while laying in bed with your girlfriend/wife. Defensive is what you get talking to a man who has to talk to you in secret.

The thing is, I've been thinking about the future. If you had asked me where I thought we would be two years ago, I would have guessed we would drop out of touch, eventually. Though I'm happy to get to talk to him still, there's a feeling gnawing at me: it has to end. It probably should have ended some time ago. There's just no reasonable way this can go on. I'm his two year old secret! It's none of my business how he and his girlfriend get along, but if I believe you shouldn't keep such secrets from your significant other I'm not doing the right thing by enabling him. The problem is that... the problem is that we're not just friends. Even today, there's an underlying flirtiness and unspoken attraction. Except it's deeper. It's one thing if he says I'm special to him and I make him want to be a better person and... The problem is that I'm kind of, sort of, a tiny little bit in love with him. 

Since he's kept me a secret for two years, he can't come out and tell the girlfriend that he's been talking to this other woman for two whole years in secret because he'd then have to explain why in secret. Suppose he somehow manages to find time to write and talk to me so we don't fall out of touch in the following years. Then I'll be the woman he's been talking to in secret for even more years! There's no way for this to work out!


Side note: Kind stranger who cares, you rock! Thanks for checking in on me! It means the world to me, even if we don't get to talk right now. It was the nudge I needed to hit send. Now I'll go ahead and freak out and worry far too much and not do anything much useful (even though I REALLY NEED TO) until I hear back from him. Or I don't.

I just know I'll be grieving this one later.

[7:43pm the next day edit]
It's already "later." The kind online stranger pointed out I suck at breaking up. I was too wordy. I told him more than he needs to know, I just plopped all of this information out of the fucking blue and there's a good chance he'll use that to try to coax me. Not that I think he will. To be honest, I think he wouldn't because he probably feels as I feel. Problem? I see myself talking to him and telling him about my feelings. I imagine a future where we agree to meet and not talk (but communicate anyway). I know we won't meet again, but a fear is starting to grow in me that if we meet and we hug, I will not want to let go. It translates into knowing that if we talk and he's sweet, I will not want to stop talking to him. And our talk is a whole day away. If it happens. It may not happen. Fuck

And now I want to apologise for not knowing how to break up with him. And talk to him some more. Shit. It's going to be a long day.

Hormones are acting up against my better judgement

Why, yes, I did just leave a comment in that Guyspeak thread about raising awareness of eating disorders. Someone jumped in to let everyone know she loves to berate her guy friends when they look at glossy pictures of women in magazines because obviously everything's wrong with your life when you look that good. My point boils down to this: they're just lucky to look good (no need to assume the worst of them to "even things out") and they don't actually look that good. They look better than you and me and most everybody, but they're not as perfect as they pretend to be for a living. And that's okay, what's wrong is the media pushing their perfection as some kind of norm for what "beautiful" is and people actually believing such ideals are attainable. 

Says the girl with body image issues of her own and a bit of an eating disorder. I know.

Not entirely unrelated, I have a confession to make, dear blog. I, er... I ogled ON today. You know, I just asked a simple question, he put his hands behind his head as he stretched his back and I could not help but notice his arms. 

I didn't mean to ogle you, ON. You're a lovely person with a gorgeous smile and you deserve better. I'm so sorry.

I'll bow my head in shame now and again later when I'm done writing about some of the other crazy thoughts that have been through my head lately. Remember that guy in the nanomedicine class who sometimes (but ever fewer times) looks my way in class? He's kind of good looking but broken deep down, somehow (or so I wildly guess)? He's actually really smart (a lot of people on my side of the classroom are, it's actually quite nice). As in, he made interesting questions and got ahead of the professor in class and made nice contributions. I caught myself thinking thoughts I've thought of LesMisGuy about how sexy it is to be smart. I caught myself thinking of maybe asking him out and even saying a very cheesy line: "You know what? I bet you have a lovely smile." (What would follow then would be him smiling, then me smiling and everyone blushing and feeling warm, fuzzy feelings.) Then I stop to realise I don't know how to approach people. I don't know how to talk to anyone that hasn't been introduced to me previously or how to introduce myself to someone I have no business talking to. *sigh*

Not done with the confession, blog. I may or may not have entertained the idea of a Skype video call with SmTn where I mute the microphone and wear dark red lipstick. 

Shame, shame, shame. 

I have to blame it on hormones: I don't normally incur in squirrel logic. Which is funny because I saw two squirrels at the base of a tree, playing much like the ones in The Sword in the Stone (which probably played much like real squirrels... just like the ones I was watching). That's what made me realise what's going on: hormones. I've found myself thinking of interacting with people but not so much to make friends but with the idea of a boyfriend in mind and it's kind of twisted. I shouldn't dive in for a relationship when I don't even have friendships on the side to rely on. What am I supposed to do with a boyfriend, anyway? Don't have much freedom to go out, don't have much of a social life I can invite him to join, don't have much by the way of experience spending my time with someone else. Really, me...

Shame, shame, shame.

Sunday, 20 October 2013

A very brief review

See? This is precisely why I regret not having a record of the conversations I had with SmTn that were lost when I changed my hard drive. 

I'm still thinking of SmTn and the serious conversation I want to have with him about dark red lipstick. It occurred to me to go over my dreams of him and his girlfriend and I ended up revisiting the time when I first found out he lived with her. I told him I felt horrible being the other woman. We agreed on wanting to be friends a while longer. He said it was selfish of him but he couldn't risk everything for me and would try to juggle a balance where he could make as many people as possible happy. I was self-deprecating and told him, in so many words, he could just give up on being my friend any time if it was for the greater good (i.e. being with his girlfriend). He seemed genuinely worried about me not being okay. We agreed on a break. Reading those conversations and e-mails still upsets me. After the break nothing much had changed. Except we stopped talking about our feelings and kept things "friend appropriate." Except he brought up dark red lipstick. Damn.

And, you know, I still want to have a serious talk with him but I'm afraid it will be a repeat of what we've already said. Should it just be a serious and cowardly e-mail, then?

Of course, I'm thinking all this around midnight, after wasting hours looking for and at old conversations with SmTn knowing I should study. Fucking study. I'm already tired. Yet I'm waiting to watch The Mentalist. And instead of studying I want to write SmTn an e-mail. Fuck.

Song of the moment is "Cuando Nadie Me Ve" by Alejandro Sanz. I read about it and the lyrics don't seem to have anything much to do with anything, but what can I do? It's the song I hear playing in my head.



Meeting the girlfriend

I don't know if this dream is from last night or the night before, but I can't believe I'd been forgetting to write about it. I had a dream where I met SmTn's girlfriend. As in, she as introduced to me. She was incredibly nice. I wish I remembered more about the dream, but I don't. In my dream, she had short curly hair (big curls, 1920s style?)

Maybe it's the reason I just remembered, maybe it has nothing to do with it. An e-mail from SmTn arrived a short while ago. He lets on that he's been partying quite a lot the last couple of weeks. I can't make up my mind about whether or not that is unusual or not because, get this, I don't actually know him all that well. Most of what he tells me is actually kind of inconsequential and I don't know all that much about him. He knows when I'm insecure, worried, happy, or whatever, but I don't quite get as much from him and I'm starting to get the feeling that he's hiding something big. I can't shake the feeling that it would be marriage, but it may be bigger than that (Yes, my not so quick reader, if you need confirmation I'm talking about children). It could also be nonsense in my head.

Saturday, 19 October 2013

Where the Wild Things Are

I can already tell it's going to be one of those posts where I mean to write about one thing and end up writing about others.

Let me start by saying I just watched Where the Wild Things Are. It's beautiful. It would have been wise to walk into it knowing it was a sad film, because aunt MT and cousin N left today and I cried at the airport and haven't quite been able to eat or stop crying. They even left me a message before boarding the plane saying "Thanks for everything. We're sending hugs and kisses. We'll talk about nice things and laugh when you come!" And I didn't know what to say because just seeing the message makes me cry. So I just asked if they had a safe flight.

All I want is to be left alone. I want to be able to cry my eyes out in solitude and relative comfort. I want to be sad about aunt MT leaving without worrying about the things aunt A will think, about the excuses she'll find to start a fight next time. I'm sure she'll think of something. "Why am I so sad to see them leave? Am I so miserable here with them? Why do I hate her and why must I make her life impossible?"

*sigh*

Number of things I meant to write about but put off and now they'll sound a bit out of place (like they ever had a place in the first place...):

1. I had a dream about my little one some time in the last two or three nights. I can't remember much about it except she was supposed to be some other dog, while being exactly herself, if that makes any sense. I love her and still miss her.

2. I ran into MrInteresting on the bus again on Thursday. Awkward talk. He insists on lying. I saw him paying for the bus... even though he wouldn't have to if he had his student ID. He said he was taking what would, here, be an outrageous number of credit hours. He complained in that immature way he has of complaining. He changed his lie about his car. His verbal incontinence had him saying very stupid things. I was a bit defensive, to be perfectly honest. I did not start conversations, let them die whenever possible and wished the I'd brought the tablet with me to read Les Misérables (it's been a while). For now, I'll stand by the same statement I gave the therapist "He's broken and has issues, but I think he's harmless." However, I'll make note of a question I thought was odd: "Hey and, uh, are you married?" No! Why would I be? I'm only 24. He let on a very old-fashioned mindset regarding families (namely, I'd invariably get married and have kids when I did, which would result in ruining my career, if I had one). I think this whole thing with him is officially weird enough that I'm starting to feel uncomfortable about it, just not uncomfortable enough that I can do much about it.

3. The sweet old man who played the part of my examiner on Friday also asked if I was married. Like that's a natural question of some sort. 

4. Still haven't heard from SmTn. Nothing too unusual, it's just that I'd like to talk to him and I don't want to be too intense. I also still want to have that serious conversation with him, though I don't know how to have it.

5. I have, however, heard back from AOB. However brief, he let me know things are moving along for him. I trust he'll be able to pull through and make things work out for him. I know he's got what it takes to be a great doctor and it shouldn't take much to see it.

6. Work has started. I have exams to study for. I can't for the life of me push myself to do anything about it and it's going to blow up in my face.

7. Yes, the reason I chose Where the Wild Things Are probably has something to do with EBF.

8. The song playing in the back of my head is the piano soundtrack from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind




Before that, it was "Red and Black."




9. I don't think cousin N ever tells her so, but when we talked the other night she was telling me about how she looks up to aunt MT. Cousin N is marveled (and, frankly, so am I) at the fact that everyone likes her and that she can put up with aunt A. Cousin N is sorry aunt A did not go to university, because she's certain she could have gotten a degree and done very well as a professional. I'm personally astounded by how pulled together aunt MT is and how much she's managed to accomplish.

Speaking of which... I talked about cousin N about my future and my ideal future. Sadness seeped through, and so did reason. She offered hope in the form of faith. 

There's something to be noted, which only hit me when I actually talked about it: a PhD in engineering seems, to me, like a pretty useless thing to do, compared to one in maths. It's an induction vs. deduction sort of problem. No matter how specific you get in maths, specializing in one tiny little thing is nowhere near as close-minded as it would be in engineering. Case in point, if I got a PhD in biomedical engineering, I could well end my days studying something like electroporation to treat cancerous tumors, or how to make the best fake leg, or a useful cutting and cauterizing pair of scissors, or how the eye of a crab or a mouse works. I can't think of a single specialization that has a broad range of uses. You study eyes and you're very much stuck being the expert on understanding the way a certain type of animals sees certain things. You study orthopedics and you're very much stuck studying bones, muscles and materials best suited to prostheses. And so on. Suppose you do the same thing in maths and specialize in a very specific type of equation, or set of spaces, or type of functions. Well, no matter how specific, it's likely that what you're doing is just another language for something someone else is doing. Whatever it is, whether it's readily apparent or not, it's bound to have numerous (and sometimes even humorous) ramifications in the real world. Because that's the way maths work: we came up with them for the purpose of assigning a language to the world we're in.

The conclusion reached with cousin N is that ideal would be ideal, but short of a fairy godmother or a winning lottery ticket that will let me afford do the things that would make me happy, I have to settle for the things that help ease unhappiness. And that's just how it is.

10. I found myself doodling the other day and wanting to come up with an alternative alphabet. Not a new language (that would, I'm afraid, be beyond my abilities), but a new alphabet, complete with ways to add the usual punctuation signs and accents. Different enough from the regular one to not be obvious, similar enough at times to still look like a written language and yet quite simplistic and elegant in its ways (to me, at least). I even came up with a new way to write numbers. The whole thing reminded me of the first time I was introduced to alternative alphabets and puzzles where you had to decipher a code. I, for a while, tried to use my secret alphabet (not so secret, actually) to write a diary entry. Except the key was written down a few pages before, so now  you see why it wasn't such a brilliant idea. I remember now how mum learned the Cyrillic alphabet to communicate in code with her friends and how Amy (Farrah Fowler) came up with a new language, for fun, and how J. R. R. Tolkien came up with a whole world (mythologies and languages included). I wonder if there's a certain kind of mindset that makes you want to make a language of your own and what kind of field day it would be for a psychologist. I'd tell my therapist but I frankly don't know what I want to talk about this week. It seems like I have too much on my mind and whatever she asks is what starts the conversation, not what I had in mind before walking in.

I had a few more things I wanted to write about, but it seems like a good idea to just close the post with one more mention of Where the Wild Things Are. I can relate to Max. I see the film as a huge psychological analysis of how a child deals with conflict and I find myself doing much of what he does, at least by playing scenes in my head (kind of like him... except my monsters don't look nearly as cuddly).

Alternate titles for the posts that I merged into this one:
"A dream is a wish the heart makes" (Pretty sure I've used this one before.)

"Home is where the heart is"

"Induction vs. Deduction"

Friday, 18 October 2013

Misery is not a zero sum game

I've been too tired to write the last few nights. I've been too tired to tell you, blog, about aunt MT and how she's a saint. I haven't told you about the conversation I had with cousin N, about the difference between a PhD in engineering and a PhD in maths, about the idea for a story based on surprising a mirror the way you surprise a clock (using my shameful excuse for a high school graduation thesis). I could have written about a couple of dreams, a few random thoughts (like the one where I confess liking public transportation), I could have written about how it's taking SmTn a bit too long to get back to me, about today's bureaucratic achievement, about a number of things. You get the idea. I won't be writing about these now because something else is up. Namely, aunt A (surprise!).

We (aunt MT, cousin N and I) were up relatively early. Aunt MT and cousin N are leaving tomorrow (which is a sad enough thought on its own). Since cousin S came around to spend some time here with them before they left, they got a little behind packing their bags and weren't quite done with them until 11:30pm or so. I asked if I could help and helped with what I could. Aunt A sat in their room and tried to make conversation while she rested her feet on one of their bags. Aunt A exits for a while and when aunt MT is about ready to finally go to bed (cousin N was already in bed, the lights in their room out), aunt A raises a ruckus because she lost an earring. And she comes up with this elaborate story about how it's such a good earring (most, if not all of her jewellery is cheap and doesn't warrant such ridiculous claims), about how it absolutely MUST BE FOUND, NOW. At fucking midnight. By aunt MT and myself. Even though we have to wake up very early tomorrow morning to drive aunt MT and cousin S to the airport and aunt MT must have been already exhausted, what with her regular bedtime being closer to 10pm. Talk about selfishness. With stupid excuses about how someone will step on the earring and ruin it and ruin her fucking life because it's such a fucking expensive and unique earring she has to put her craziness (it's nowhere close to being a need) on top of everyone's well-being (sleeping is generally considered to be a good thing when you're tired and have a long day ahead of you).

I find it outrageous. Aunt MT is a saint but I get mad on her behalf because it can't fucking be right for aunt A to be like that. Even after aunt MT went to bed aunt A was still walking around the house, moving things around (including things that had nothing to do with finding the lost earring) and waiting for me to come out of the bathroom to show me the other earring. Désolée! I have shit to do. Like sleeping, for instance. The fact that you can't sleep, madwoman, does not excuse you keeping us others awake. The fact that you think your whims are more important than other people's needs does not entitle you to act on such stupid beliefs. Not even if aunt MT is a saint. Especially because aunt MT is a saint. 

It's just wrong. Wrong, I tell you!

Tuesday, 15 October 2013

Reminder

Quarter life crisis glimpsed in a conversation with A. She's all about telling me how much brighter her future looks from where she is and how full of possibilities her career is now. She's thinking of applying for a PhD scholarship. She tells me to look up the maths PhD programme in that university. If not, they have a Master's programme that turns into a PhD (or something like that, she said she'd look into it). She pretty much told me to find out where they teach the things I want to learn and to get into a programme. While part of it is her just boasting how much she likes it where she is right now and another part is her completely ignoring my explanation for not taking any plans of pursuing a career in maths very seriously, another part is solid good advice. Which I have to ignore. *sigh*

Life chez les A is as always. Arguments over fucking everything. Conflict every fucking where. 

Enough reason to remind myself three things (which boil down to one):

1. We had class in a different classroom today. A classroom that was closed a half hour before the class, when I arrived at the building. I had chosen to sit outside the hall (on the other side of a door, by the stairs) while I waited for someone to open the door. I could hear my classmates chatting on the other side and it was a good enough indication of the fact that the classroom had not been opened. When it was time for the class, I got up and looked out the window on the door, finding everyone still up. The guy closest to the door opened it and told me he'd let me know when they opened the classroom. I don't know him and I have to presume he doesn't know me beyond the fact that we're in the same class. Nevertheless, he thought he'd let me know and his kindness made me smile. It still does.

2. The nice lady at the coffee shop closest to the office. That woman makes my day when I see her. She always smiles, she jokes, she tries to start conversations about anything. She's just so friendly and sweet... If she had a tip jar that read "tip for smiles" she'd be making at least twice as much as she is now. She's a love.

3. ON has a lovely smile. It's genuine, it's sweet and, most importantly, pretty much always there. 

Note to self: Most people are nice. Doesn't matter if you know them or not, they'll be friendly and helpful just because. This is true pretty much anywhere. 


Today's song is "Hello, Goodbye" by The Beatles. 




The dream I remember waking out of this morning involved CtThumbe visiting and us going out with the mean girls from school1 (go figure). We had made plans to go to the theatre and I invited CtThumbe to come with us (she would have, apparently, needed the others' permission first, as the queen bee came over to ask if she'd like to come). Initially, CtThumbe was only here for a day but she changed her mind and it ended up with her staying over. I remember having time to worry about whether or not my clothes would fit her but being happy to have her around anyway.