why don’t I write anymore?

The internet is so seductive.

Anyway, I’m home.

The musical was fantastic, especially given some of the circumstances.

Oh Facebook Honesty Box, how you beckon. But on the other hand, you actually got some real information out of me and someone else. Relationship improving information.

MSN + webcam = long distance face-making at someone special. Once he gets his ass to Future Shop, we may start Skyping so we can SAY inane things while making faces, instead of just typing them.

Once you start thinking about being profound, it gets much harder.

I don’t even journal a lot anymore.

This must be fixed.

new topic!

I fell in love.

This is how we met: the first night of frosh week, they had pizza (and beer) parties at frosh leaders’ houses, for mingling, a couple of groups to a house. Our groups were at the same party, and we both sort of noticed each other while we were mingling. Cut to a few nights later, it’s Retro Night at the Wardy (campus pub) and we danced together a bit. I would’ve danced with him more, but while walking my roomie back to our room, since she didn’t have her keys, we saw a girl being loaded into an ambulance, and that was pretty much a total buzzkill for me, so I went to bed soon after. Cut to the day before lectures and such begin, I think “maybe he’ll be in my tutorial… no, that never happens.” Cut to the next day, he is in my tutorial. That night it’s Maritime Night at the Wardy, there’s live music, I know a million folk songs and fit right in, I don’t know “Barrett’s Privateers” yet, but I pick that up fast. I’m there with my friend (this initial thing is a problem, so many people have the first initial E.), let’s call her Rosie since she had a bandanna that night and did many a Rosie the Riveter impression. And she gets me up to dance, but he offers his arm so off I go with him. And after the song Rosie asks me “what the fuck was that?” and I say something like “he’s in my tutorial, and oh my god he’s totally my type, and he’s wearing brown corduroy pants.” Let it be known that I have a deep love of corduroy pants. But that’s not really the point. Rosie, who by now has had plenty of beer plus a shot of tequila, decides that we must dance together again. She basically physically shoves us together. And we dance, and we go outside for some air, and we get to talking, and we go to his room, and neither of us gets much sleep that night. And the next day he asks me out for coffee after tutorial, and so far I’m getting my happy ending…

I can write more, if you want to know more.

(I do not like how that’s all one block of text. May edit later.)

revision dilemma

There is a boy.  Last year, when I started this blog, I was romantically interested in him.  The tag for him to a certain extent reflects this.  Now we are friends, only friends.  I know I decided to not to revise previous posts to reflect the current truth, but what about tags?  It seems odd to tag him in a way that implies (at least to me) romantic interest, but I don’t want to just make up a new tag without changing all the old ones. So do I change the old ones?  Complicating the issue slightly is the fact that he and K. have the same first initial.

Anyway, I originally got onto this topic because I liked something he’d said about Robin:
“Robin had the reputation akin to a Goddess. She is always there; watching, waiting.”
Which I loved, and wanted to quote here.

I do almost feel like she’s still watching me, asking me why I’ve read so little of the Darwin I’m supposed to be reading.

I’ve been drowning my sorrows in Monty Python, junk food, and tea, mainly, because I’m sure she’d worry if I drowned them in anything stronger. (I did have a slightly spiked hot chocolate last night.)

I’ve been wearing this silly little bracelet, too. Just brightly coloured plastic beads – she picked it up one day when we were organizing the costume shop and said something like “this looks like you.”
My friend E. wears a beautiful, simple silver metal bracelet in memory of her friend Haley, and as lovely as something like that would be, the bright plastic found in the theatre somehow seems so much more appropriate for Robin.

poem with found text

I’m going to call you, maybe.
I’m holding the telephone, but I keep looking down at it and wondering
‘What’s this for?’ then I answer myself
‘This is a telephone.
You were going to call . . .’
It has bite marks.
I chew on everything, but telephones are not for eating.
This I know.
. . . How?
Does ‘This is a telephone’ entail ‘You couldn’t eat it’?
Must I try to eat it, and fail, in the course of making sure that it’s a telephone?
And must I make sure that it’s a telephone?
The appeal of asking what it is
And confirming what it is
Is
It allows me put off the intended action.
(Calling you, that is.)
And then my intended action becomes putting off the intended action.
It’s even more insidious than such natural disasters as coffee-crazed cockroaches . . .
(This is a coffee-crazed cockroach, you couldn’t eat it.)
Coffee-crazed cockroaches crawling in from outdoors
To stare at the phone with me
Crawling into my closets, piled high with the promise of warm and wooly hats
Crawling through my closets to find the things I keep in back.
Hissing, are they hissing?
Yes, so they’re from Madagascar I assume.
Hissing watching me gnaw my fingers the phone a pen some chocolate
Waiting for me to dial the numbers, press send.
Listen to it ring, and wait.
Maybe I’m going to call you.

—

Text in green is not mine.

worried . . .

My journal, the paper one, went missing sometime today at school.  That’s a bunch of very personal thoughts and feelings roaming the campus with yes my name attached (not to mention my home address, email address, and phone number).  That’s a worrisome thought.

two haikus and a tanka

 it’s nice that you care
but priorities get fucked
sometimes sleep comes last

hypocrite - you are
but I love you anyway
thank you, sweet - thank you

when we hug I think
you feel so thin - breakable
but still you feel strong
do you fear I’d break too?  don’t -
I can’t break me when I try

All ’bout different people, if you were wondering.

snowy day

I went for a walk at lunch, even though it was disturbingly cold and I have a terrible cough.

Not sure why.

Took some pretty pictures.

Easier to freeze than think about a crush, maybe.

Because I have one.