Hear All the Bombs

I think Sparky (our dog) doesn't recognize the difference between Emilie and I anymore. He usually follows her around, but I'm in my room right now, and before he went to go eat, he sat in here with me for 20 minutes. What the heck?
Poor little devil. He's getting on in years. Actually, he's almost ancient, really.

Texted Matt at midnight-ish. I shouldn't have. It was a jerk move on my part to myself. I wish I wasn't being so civil about this, and dumb. I wish I could be like, DON'T EVER TALK TO ME AGAIN 'HISSSSSSS'. Alas, I can't, for I am the one to have called the mofo. I'm a dumby wumby. I really am.

I think I'm going to write to Dan Savage. He'll know what to do.

I can't help but feel love for all humanity at times like this. I don't know why, either.
Maybe I'm just crazy. That might be it.

( Wax-Sentimental Idiotic )

It's sort of funny, maybe even ironic, that I wrote an entry about my boyfriend, who within the same day, breaks up with me. Poetic... justice? No. Just plain shit? Yes.

C'est la vie.

I'll have been dating Matthew for 5 months on the 23rd of the month. Not very long, but still, cool. There have been some rough patches, but hey, c'est la vie and poop. I really like him a lot. Good stuff, indeed. I need to get him a gift for our "you aren't going to last a month" anniversary. ;) Yes, someone actually told him that. Not bitchy at all, I know. Well, anyway, fuck 'em. :)

I would really like to be asleep soon. I'm teaching myself to play America's Horse with No Name. I know, I'm a BAMF.

But not really.

I really need to clean out my closet. There are a lot of things that only remind me of less-better times, and besides, it'd be nice to go out and buy a few new items. Consumerism, it eases the mind, ne c'est pas? When I think about cleaning out my closet, it reminds me one of my favorite pairs of shoes that I threw away the beginning of college. They were these little braided gold sandals that I bought for a play I was in. 10th grade. Yikes. And all the hundreds of times I wore them after that, over a two - three year span. How many times my dry, cracked feet stepped out of the house in them. Those babies were worn to fuck. I wonder where they ended up. Probably in a heaping pile of garbage, but that's not always a given, right?

But most likely.

It's weird to think that not all of our garbage ends up in a long-forgotten dump or a landfill. I guess it's not something that keeps people up at night, but still...

It's something to think about when you're up at 2:40 a.m., humming America's greatest hits.

Goodnight.

Emilie found the tape of home movies from my first birthday to maybe a month after Suhail's birthday the next year. We thought we had lost it during the move to Florida. Fortunately, we didn't. It's a short tape, but it's precious in a way that only some mortal things can be precious. It's priceless.

On a completely different note, my boyfriend is in New Orleans right now with some friends that I barely know. He's a responsible young chap, so I trust him with drinking and being around women I don't know. Part of me wishes I were there, though. I'd like to get out of this house, but I never seem to have enough energy during the day. Might take a beach trip tomorrow. The beach is pretty awesome around these parts. Maybe I'll walk around downtown C-View as well. It's ugly in a pretty way.
Betty is going to Toronto tomorrow. I'm jealous in a nice sort of way. Again, I wish I were there.

June 16th would be a wonderful day to go to Atlanta. I'm really dying to see my favorite band (IN THE ENTIRE WORLD PANT PANT PANT). It will probably be the last opportunity I have to see them live. Sunset Rubdown is just the pick of the litter to me, and I think life would be a little more whimsical if I saw them. They have life-changing capabilities, dontchyaknow?

Bon nuit <3

The semester is almost over, and it's about fucking time. It's not that this semester has been intolerable (it's been challenging enough, I think), but it's perfect timing for a break.

I really don't have a decent segue for what comes next, so I'm just going to subject you to it. Wait, maybe this was the segue... anyway...

I feel like such a massive jerk. I'm always touting principles of "right action, right speech, right intentions" and so on, but how often am I actually following my own guidelines? I get so angry sometimes, and so fed up with what others say. Why do I care, why do I even bother getting angry? Maybe I'm angry at the prospect of others (even the people with which I'm closest) seeing me as inadequate. Yet, I can't help but feel even more so when I get so frustrated and angry and sad. I wish I could be a stone, but even rocks can chip.

I'm only human. But so are you. We should both remember that.

I feel crappy. Only slightly, though, only slightly.
Oh yeah, and I got cellulitis from Mooch biting me... again.
Second time I've been on amoxicillin. Nice.

http://www.physicsgames.net/game/99_Bricks.html

This link leads to what could quite possibly be the most evil link that no one in humanity's entirety has seen.

Good luck. Oh, and thanks Bob!

I always thought that hand-holding looked sweet, and you know what?


It is sweet.

Life is good.
Word.

The last few weeks have been... really good. School-wise, they've been alright, but relationship-wise (which I feel really stupid writing, but oh well) have been surprising, and lovely. I like this boy, see? And he's so fucking smart, but he still manages to be goofy as shit. He's a big, goofy, white boy, and he is awesome. I don't think anyone has ever treated me like he has. It's weird; he's like a combination of everyone I've ever known and all my closest friends, but it's like I've never met anybody quite like him. I might just be saying that out of blind crush-ness, but I don't care. Rationality is not called for right now.




Ugh. Man. This. Is. Crazy.