sigmastolen: (ter'angreal)
something is very wrong when a hallmark ad can trigger a breakdown

and i'm not even sure if it's wrong with me, or the world

i mean, surely society is at fault for embedding these feelings of wrongness, and loneliness, and inadequacy in me just because i don't have a significant other

sigmastolen: (Default)
however: the last six days are the longest stretch i have gone without feeling intensely awful and crying suddenly about nothing/everything for at least two months, so there's that.

to absolutely do tomorrow: begin aldeburgh application; spend some serious quality time with contrabassoon
to maybe do tomorrow: comic shop?

idk it's still been a little rough, a little like i'm experiencing the world from a great distance, but for a few days, at least, i was feeling like i'd maybe taken a step into the light. i was feeling... galvanized? like i had Things To Do and, finally, the ability to actually do them without being overwhelmed or falling apart or being too afraid to begin. yesterday and today, i'm still trying to do the things but my burst of energy seems to have dissipated; i'm not sure how to go on from here.

also all the gratuitous boozing on bsg is making me really want a drink. or to maybe buy a secret bottle of whiskey or some such just to have on hand and also to have something to put in the flask. no no that is the worst idea ever i won't actually but man i really could use a drink.
sigmastolen: (Default)
today i cried unusually copiously and then i started to gag and choke and i thought i had literally cried myself sick
but it turns out i am just falling ill
sigmastolen: (Default)
i know i'm not always the most engaging person to be around -- i am fundamentally pretty quiet, and i tend to fall silent if i am uncomfortable, unhappy, or if i feel like i don't have anything to contribute. but it's just -- so. awful. to to be in a room with someone and feel completely invisible. and tonight wasn't the first time and it won't be the last.

and i feel bad for having been less than sparkling because it really, honestly, was not about me, and i feel guilty for being in such an awful, fucked-up place when i have a guest who i only see about once a year, because i don't want to waste our time together moping and i don't want to be a drag on the even shorter time she has with other dear friends, but i also can't help feeling awful? and the invisibility is kind of out of my control. and then also mountain goats and too many feelings and is it weird that music triggers major mood alterations? are there people for whom that is not the case? is there a way to avoid that happening? because it would probably be nice if i didn't start shaking every time i hear certain songs, or lose control of my hands and start wringing them and compulsively toying with my scarf and shit. that would be really, really nice. because i'll say i'm fine -- i'll always say i'm fine -- but agitated hands and, you know, occasionally blinking back tears tend to make people think that isn't the case

and all this is stupid, so, so stupid, because wasn't i just saying that i wanted someone to notice? people are noticing. but i don't want to rock the boat

and it's just so, so fucked all of it is so fucked this is terrible i need to go to sleep.

sigmastolen: (ter'angreal)
i didn't call you tonight. today was horrible and all i wanted was to ask if i could come see you and have a hug and pretend that i'm not so isolated and that people remember that i'm here and a person. but someone asked me to get a drink with her and a bunch of her friends that i'd never met and i was in the city where you live and i drove right past your apartment and i didn't call and i didn't text even though my thumb was hovering over the button and i had three separate crises about it and i almost cried. and i went to a new place and i met some new people and i had a fine time and i didn't call you and i can't tell if that's willpower or if it's just more crippling insecurity but i didn't call you and i had fun and tomorrow i'll do it all again.
sigmastolen: (Default)
Okay, so I'm reading John Green's Looking for Alaska -- YA book, brilliant outcasts at a boarding school in Alabama, recommended by my brother -- and in the scene I just read, the narrator and his friends play a drinking game: Best Day/Worst Day, in which:
Everybody tells the story of their best day. The best storyteller doesn't have to drink. Then everybody tells the story of their worst day, and the best storyteller doesn't have to drink. Then we keep going, second best day, second worst day, until one of y'all quits.

Because it's nearly three and I get more introspective in the dead of night and I get most introspective when I spend all my time by myself all day every day (except for my parents and my cats, basically), I tried to think of my best and worst day. And plenty of terrible days leap to mind (the day my nana died, the day she fell and broke her hip coming to my band concert, breakups, failed exams, horrific awkwardness, goodbyes), but I have a really difficult time trying to think of "best days." I know I'm not sad all the time; I know I have friends and family who love me and do fun things with me and I know I have accomplished a lot of things to be proud of. But what does it say about me, that "best days" don't spring to mind with the same readiness as "worst days"? What does it say, that my memory glosses over good times into a haze of "yeah, that was all right;" that I have to unpack "best days" from boxes and dust them off before I know them for what they are, but "worst days" are poised for immediate recollection and polished to a high sheen?

And why is it that the absolute happiest memories are but fleeting moments of shining perfection (a kiss at sunset; the applause during a curtain call; a gripping performance; reaching an overlook and seeing the world spread out before me), but the worst memories and drag out and cast their pall over days, weeks, or even months? Even the "best days" that gradually drift to the surface are tempered with moderate-to-large amounts of melancholy, sorrow, or frustration.

But I guess the point of this post is that I have such difficulty thinking of my "best day," and I find that unspeakably sad.
sigmastolen: (Default)
One thing (of many) that I really miss about living in Davis is the Yellow-Billed Magpie:

I think I've seen a couple around my neighborhood in LB, but nothing close to the tidings of magpies I'd see in Davis daily -- and, of course, none in Pittsburgh, because the Yellow-Billed Magpie is found only in California. Anyway, I was reading about magpies on Wikipedia and it says:
This bird is extremely susceptible to West Nile virus. Between 2004 and 2006 it is estimated that 50% of all Yellow-billed Magpies died of the virus.

… And it just made me incredibly sad, that's all.
sigmastolen: (Default)
So...... Today I had my last undergraduate final, and took my last undergraduate bassoon lesson. Friday was my last concert at UCLA, Thursday I turned in my last undergraduate paper. Saturday is commencement.

This is so weird.

After my lesson, I stood outside the door a minute, feeling completely lost. And it's not like it'll be my last lesson ever with Steinmetz; he subscribes to the "lifetime warranty" philosophy of private instruction. When I finally (finally!) trial some used Heckels, I'm definitely going to see if he's in town, so I can play them for him. I'll e-mail and visit (as much as I ever e-mail and visit anyone, at least). And of course, I have plenty of bassoon projects to keep my fingers flying this summer. But for a minute there, I didn't know what to do next. I just stood, facing the door, and felt something end.

It was a little sad.

But then I went to the library and I've been sitting here behind the desk, checking out stuff for CMU. I set up my e-mail, filled out a registration preference form and a chamber music placement form, investigated all the READ ME! stuff, checked out professors, conductors, and course descriptions... I'm pretty excited. Like, really excited.

Still, year-ends always make me sad. I guess I'm just sentimental? I'm starting to get that teary feeling... only a little, though. I have days left of student-teaching and libration.

(p.s. how about that gratuitous 90's pop reference? ahaha)
sigmastolen: (omgcrab)
So my Powerbook G4 -- you know, the one I've had for the past five years? I got it in August 2005 -- finally kicked it, and man, have I had an eventful day and a half because of that. I type this from my brand-new (no, literally, we bought it this morning and I booted it up an hour and a half ago) 13-inch Macbook Pro, and half of me wants to call it "the new hotness" in Agent J fashion, while the other half is still mourning my old computer. Also, I can't decide if I like Snow Leopard or not.

Friday I got home around 11:15 and suddenly remembered that I had to write program notes for Contempo Flux -- so I opened up a new Word document, and went to Wikipedia for the composer's dates. It took ages to load -- so long that I fell asleep waiting, and woke up at 12:30 having left the lights on. I immediately went to my e-mail to send E a message apologizing for missing the deadline, and that is when my computer froze. It froze hard.

So I turned it off. And I turned it back on. And then I tried to log into my user account, and it gave me an error message apologizing that my user account could not be accessed at this time. I tried a few more times to log in, with the same result, and then decided to try the guest account. It started to load, but very very slowly, so I went into the main room, where Flatmate had left her computer on and out on the table, and dashed off an e-mail from there. I returned to my computer, which was still. loading. I fell asleep once again, this time with the lights off.

The next morning I woke up around 6, and the guest account was ready. I researched and wrote my program notes from that account, then restarted the computer to try getting into my own stuff yet again. Still no luck. I was planning to go to Long Beach yesterday anyway, so I had breakfast, watched some telly, told my mum we needed to go to the Apple Store, and was off. The guy at the Genius Bar, cute-and-nerdy Brendan, performed some diagnostics and determined that my hard drive was, somewhat miraculously after five years, still functioning well enough. (He was careful to emphasize that all hard drives will eventually fail. Yes, sweetie, I know that moving parts inevitably wear out. I don't blame Apple.) He tried rebooting my computer, but again when I tried to log in, I was denied. Brendan hypothesized that I had a "massive software error" and advised me to, upon getting back to my parents' house, start up my computer in "target mode" and Firewire it to their iMac, transfer my files to the other computer, and reinstall the operating system.

I waited to do that for a couple hours, since my AP English teacher (and my brother's next-year AP English teacher) was giving a talk at Barnes & Noble that afternoon, so he and I went to see her and got some books and stuff. I tried to get started upon coming home around five, but then I discovered that we didn't have the right kind of Firewire cable (6-pin to 6-pin is HARD TO FIND btw) so we went first to Staples (no joy there), then to Best Buy looking for it. After the sales girl at Best Buy found it by chance (on a rack for a different kind of Firewire cable, in a previously opened package so at least we got it discounted), we went home and I tried to do this file transfer thing. I spent about 45 minutes totally baffled and panicked by the ".sparseimage" file that I found inside my user folder instead of other folders containing actual documents and things. When I tried to call Apple's tech support hotline, I almost had a breakdown because I had missed their operating hours by 30 minutes and had to wait to contact them until the next morning. I decided to recklessly transfer this ".sparseimage" thing (actually a special disk image of my user data, including all of my files) to my parents' external hard drive, which I would then (hypothetically) take home that night, reinstall OS X from the installation disks in my apartment, reload my files onto my laptop, and return the hard drive to my parents the next day.

But no. The file transfer kept getting stuck at 3.86GB and freezing the other computer. (I tried this probably three times, both before and after going to Amanda's senior recital WHICH WAS AWESOME AND EPIC.) Utterly defeated, I returned to my apartment sans my computer, and eventually fell into a troubled sleep.

This morning I was unable to wake up as early as I hoped, so it was about 7:30 when I returned to my parents' house to call Apple Care and ask them what to do. The techie on the phone wasn't encouraging; after I explained all the problems to him, he thought it was something wrong with the disk, and said I would probably have to remove the hard drive from the laptop casing and put it in another enclosure to be able to recover the data. Or, rather, an Official Service Provider would. So I thanked him and conferred with my parents; it was agreed to give me my graduation present of a new laptop a month early, and my mother would take my old laptop to the Official Service Provider on her lunch hour tomorrow to see what they could do. I took a nap while my parents went grocery shopping and we waited for the Apple Store to open, then off we went.

And so now I have a new computer, and that's cool, but it's kind of bittersweet. Because I still love my old computer.

In other news, I definitely could have been trying to salvage the files for PACT that I had already e-mailed to my professors... but I spent an hour writing this instead. YAAAAY. The moral of the story? BACK UP YOUR DATA. BACK IT UP HARD. Especially if you're using a 5-year-old, tiny, limping monstrosity.
sigmastolen: (octopus)
1) Guys think I'm cool. They like to be friends with me. I'm smart, and good at what I do, and occasionally funny, and I tend to share their dorky interests. Guys don't think I'm hot (which, okay, I don't either, really, but I am pretty, and pretty cute, and occasionally pretty damn sexy); they don't want to date me. Mostly, I don't want to date them, either, but there are a few exceptions (at least one glaring one right now, whoops, sorry Anna I was mistaken when I said I didn't really want to hit that anymore), and honestly, it would be nice to be hit on by someone I'm attracted to -- or at the very least, someone other than middle-aged black and latino men. I'm an excellent girlfriend, and I'm told I'm good in bed, and I guess I'd like to know, what does it take to be taken into consideration? (possibly the loss of about 50 pounds, which is a goal of mine, but seriously, larger women than i are in happy relationships.)

2) Virtually all of my close female friends are gorgeous. Is this why I don't get male attention? When I'm out with Paula, or Malia, or Ali, or Anna, I'm definitely The Hot Girl's friend. Am I shooting myself in the foot, here? I also wonder if people see me out with my really gorgeous friends and wonder, how did she get into that group?

Man, I am all about the great self-image tonight. The funny thing is, I felt pretty gorgeous, all dolled up for the opera. And then it all went down the tubes.

(okay, okay, while i'm being self-indulgent: or has ethan noticed me? anna definitely wants to get in his pants, and eliz tonight posited that he's into paula, which i don't disagree with, but he flirts pretty ostentatiously with everyone, and i feel like we have chemistry. maybe. based almost entirely on our meagre interactions over the last two weeks. fuck it, whatever, i'm busy and i'll be going away to grad school soon. but you know, if i had a chance with umut i'd leap at that, too, so i guess if i have a chance with ethan... i dunno, whatever, fuck it.)
sigmastolen: (Default)
While I'm trying desperately to avoid my homework while still trying desperately to get it done today, here's the word so far:

UNCSA: probably yes (still nothing official from the admissions office)
U of Michigan: yes
Northwestern: no
Rutgers: yes

I feel a little silly that Northwestern is bumming me out so much. I think I got all hopeful because Millard said he wanted to call me, but then he never did and I didn't follow up on it, and it was my first choice and now I'm sad.

But! I do have at least 2 places to go to grad school, which is nothing to sneeze at.

I swear I'll unpack those lists soon. There's just... a lot going on right now.
sigmastolen: (mallow)
So, this quarter, and the past month in particular, has made me realise that I'm okay with being single right now, because honestly? I have no room in my life to try to accommodate another person. I barely don't have time to take care of all my own shit, and I've already had to miss a ton of orchestra and that makes me sad and guilty.

That said, I finally have a crush on someone that I don't immediately dismiss when I think about it, like I did the various people I took interest in last spring. And despite not being able to act on it because I have no time (see above), I'm pleased that it is happening, for two main reasons:
- it means I'm not ruined for life
- it's my first crush on a girl who isn't a celebrity, so it's new and exciting. Saxophone, first year masters (or DMA maybe? i'm not actually sure), v. butch, v. laid-back, orch manager, adorable faux-hawk. She might have a gf? I don't know. But that's okay because I have no time.

So yeah. *shrug*

In other news, new orchestra angst! SO MUCH ORCHESTRA ANGST.
1) I am on the roster for the Messiah orchestra (extravaganza with choirs)
2) I have a concert of contemporary chamber music during one of the dress rehearsals, which I feel it is important to note was not on the original schedule. Actually, we weren't even given a schedule for the whole quarter, just concert dates and a schedule for the first rotation, and even though this is the way the concerts with choir have worked out every other time, if it wasn't on the schedule they can't really punish us for not making the assumption that it would be the same this year
3) I was not expecting to be in the Messiah orchestra, because I thought we might be doing the smaller orchestration AND I assumed that Maestro would pick New Masters Student over me SO I figured that either way the chamber concert wouldn't present a conflict for me personally and if the various string players weren't going to make a stink, neither would I (plus I did mention it but Chamber Coach scheduled it anyway)
4) I feel guilty about playing in approx. twice as much orchestra stuff as New Masters Student, because Maestro isn't warming up to her very much at all
5) I asked Maestro via e-mail this afternoon if maybe it wouldn't be better for New Masters Student to be in Messiah, since she is available for all the rehearsals, and he hasn't gotten back to me, which freaks me out because he is usually a prompt e-mailer
6) I just registered for the CBEST, which I have been meaning to do for ages, and it is a 4-hour test on the day of the other dress rehearsal, which is scheduled to begin an hour before the test will end, not to mention that my testing center is far the fuck away because I registered so late, so essentially I will miss some or all of both dress rehearsals
7) I don't want Maestro to hate me
8) I don't want New Masters Student to resent me
9) I like large-scale choral works in general and Messiah in particular, but I honestly just don't want to deal with being in it right now
10) I also don't want Orch Manager to hate me for having so many conflicts and making life difficult because she has a cute fauxhawk.


Communication is hard, guys.

UPDATE!! Before I sent the CBEST e-mail, Maestro e-mailed back and says, "I'd still rather have you play. How much of the [Friday night] rehearsal would you need to miss?" So now I'm explaining about the CBEST and I'm so nervous about this, why? is this irrational nervousness? I just want him to liiiiiiiike meeeeeee. Which he apparently does or he wouldn't be so adamant about me playing this concert? SO WHY AM I SO NERVOUS AAAAAAAHHHHHH

OH AND ALSO! I got a haircut on Saturday and everyone keeps telling me it's cute but I am Not In Love With It. *pout* Am having a v. hard time making my peace with this one. ALSO!!! The lady was all, "IT'LL LOOK GREAT IF YOU FLAT-IRON IT :D" right after I said I don't have a flat iron and that I don't like them, and I wanted to say, "GEE, THANKS, I DON'T HAVE A FLAT IRON AND I DON'T WANT TO FLAT IRON MY HAIR AND I DON'T FUCKING HAVE TIME TO FLAT IRON MY HAIR EVERY DAY ANYWAY WHY COULDN'T YOU JUST MAKE IT SO IT LOOKS GREAT WITHOUT ME DOING ANYTHING TO IT?" Plus, she made everything too short. I'm not that bothered about the overall length, but I definitely wanted my bangs cheekbone-length and not eyebrow-length. Amelie haircut: DID NOT WANT, KTHX BUT NO THX. I don't think it suits my face. >:C
sigmastolen: (Default)
I dunno. I've been feeling shitty the past few days. fragile. not very much like a person. I've been tired and solitary and irritable and sad, kind of. completely unable to tackle my to-do list, and I've had the same one since thursday. it's taken me two hours of being awake and pretending i'm not to get out of bed every day, except to feed the kittens because they sit next to my face and cry until I do. And after all that I find that it's just too much goddamn effort to put on my running clothes and move, so I lie around for another hour, struggle through a shower, and curl up in front of the telly or with my computer for breakfast and then lunch. I can barely get myself out of the door in time to get to work within ten minutes of when I was supposed to clock in, and then I usually don't even fucking do anything for the four hours that I do work, besides fuck around on the internet and help the occasional patron.

Just now:
Flatmate: *holds up a plastic container that formerly held plums* Are these recyclable, do you know?
Me: *glances* Oughta be. What does it say on the bottom?
Flatmate: *checks, as though she hadn't before* One.
Me: Yes. *hides eyeroll behind computer*

Dude, she took a class in "eco-feminism" (whatever the fuck that is. i often think that 60% of Women's Studies is bullshit. sort of like 60% of Flatmate is bullshit). She talks all about how she's into being green and shit. Why does she not know what is recyclable??? And actually, I would rather not discuss the raised rates for our cable bill right after a mediocre practise session (in which I had a devil of a time trying to ignore the music she was playing while cleaning her bathroom -- I swear it sounded like she was playing something on the stereo that has speakers right outside my door, and is that really necessary when she has a computer which she could put much closer to the bathroom (or inside it, how about that?), instead of needing to turn up the volume on the stereo right outside my door loud enough to carry to her bathroom?), kthx.

Yesterday in the car on my way to work i almost had some kind of emotional breakdown. I was seriously blinking back tears during some old-guy cover of that NIN song Hurt. And then whatever else came on after that, I don't even know. It was awful. i just, I don't even know why, and my mind kept going back to last winter

and somehow i started thinking, 'it was my fault. I did this.' Like I had somehow brought it on myself that -- I don't even know, really. that J. didn't want to be with me after his psychotic break -- like it was somehow my fault for doing what I know was the right thing. or like somehow, if I hadn't gone to SD that weekend with my roommates, things would have turned out okay because I was there to notice something wrong and help him, instead of miss his call because i was on a fishing boat --

I know, it's not like I could have really done anything to prevent what happened, I'm sure, and

god. I don't even know what I'm trying to say now. It was a bad place. And then when I got to work all I wanted to do was go hide in the stacks for a while -- shelve or shelf read or shift or something, a task where it could just be me and the books and I wouldn't have to smile at people or think or anything -- but instead I was stuck behind the circulation desk all afternoon helping patrons and my eyes were tired and it was awful. And I got home in the evening and I curled up on the floor by the kittens and cried and they didn't even care. And Flatmate got home early and I had to pretend to be on and I visited John and he fiddled with my bassoon and that was okay, and his dogs were sweet and we chatted and Nick was there and that was nice too, but then I got back to my apartment and I was exhausted from it and I declined to watch Almost Famous with Flatmate and her bestie and went to bed and had a cry and fell asleep.

And I don't know why it all came flooding back at once, and this shouldn't be able to shatter me like this anymore. I should be done. I thought I was done. But I keep having these crying jags and not being able to fall asleep and then not being able to get up and I've been entirely unproductive for the past three days and I just feel so -- crushed. stomped flat. crumpled. Why can't I just be done?
sigmastolen: (Default)
I've just read something that made me remember my Thursday evening, which was a Total Wash. And now I want to share because, HAY, THAT'S WHAT THE INTERNETS ARE FOR, RITE???

So yeah.

Last week, BBC America aired the 5-night third series of Torchwood, my Queer British Science Fiction Programme. (They call it "event television," this business of writing a big five-hour story and showing it all in one week, rather than writing 13 one-hour stories and spreading them out over a season. We call it a miniseries. Heh.) Anyway, it aired in the UK at the beginning of the month and I tried not to read spoilers but I eventually couldn't help myself because why deny oneself information when you have the internet and it's all right there, you know? So I knew what was coming, but on Thursday night ("Children of Earth: Day Four") when they killed My Favourite Character, I was still really broken up. Good storytelling, it gets to you anyway, yeah? But Flatmate's band was having an Important Show in Hollywood, and they had a really early set, so as soon as it was over, I got underway... slightly later than I should have, probably, but they always tell people their sets are earlier than they actually are, so the "latecomers" arrive right on time. Except. I was avoiding the freeway because, you know, weekday evening, Los Angeles traffic, so Google told me to take National and I. Got. Lost. Honestly, National does some really confusing shit by my apartment and I ended up getting kicked really far out of my way to get to a street from whence I could find my way back to Google's directions. And at that point, I'm feeling down because of the telly already and I don't really want to go out on the town, especially by myself and sober (since if you go alone you're always the D.D.), but I carry on because I do like Flatmate's band a lot and I want them to have people in the audience for their Important Show. But, this city being what it is, by the time I actually got to the venue, their set was practically over, and there was nowhere to park that wasn't going to cost me $20. So I gave up, started to make my way back home. I took a more meandering route, to avoid traffic (and to refuel at the ARCO STATION OF THE FUTURE -- it's at Robertson and Olympic and it's the coolest gas station EVAR but the in the street view on Google maps it isn't even BUILT yet so I can't show it to you), and that's when I saw ads for "Torchwood: Children of Earth" on at least TWO billboards, and that made me even more sad. I cleaned passive-aggressively when I got home, read people's reaction posts on LJ, and actually sobbed myself to sleep. Not just because of Queer British Sci-Fi, but it was a large contributing factor, along with Los Angeles traffic and disappointment and being too much in my head.

Thursday was a low point.

And honestly, as much as "Children of Earth" is extremely high-quality television, nothing about it is quintessentially Torchwood and it could have been made without those characters and I wish it had, because it was too dark and too desperate, and the show I love is campy and full of plot holes and hope, and this miniseries left everything too broken. The ratings were exceptionally good, and I'm sure the Beeb will give them a fourth series, but I can't see how it can be anything recognisable as Torchwood, because CoE stripped away everything we cared about -- silliness, the wonder of the stars, the goodness in humanity, and especially the Big Gay Romance.

Sorry. I've been needing to get that out.
sigmastolen: (Default)
1. Ridiculous Dream )

2. The Tale of Shoe-Boy )

3. Bonus!! Not a story, but more on shoes... The ones pictured above, I bought at DSW; they are the Rileigh by Madden Girl. And these are my awesome boots. They are the Chaingang by Rocket Dog. Shoes are awesome. (christ, when did i turn into a girl?)
sigmastolen: (Default)
I just unfriended him and his mom on Facebook. No turning back, baby!
sigmastolen: (Default)
I think this is the end for real. Ben's senior recital was tonight, and Jay was there. I walked in and he was sort of standing in the middle of the room. I decided to just be stone, and so I wasn't going to look at him, but then he was like, "o hey" and he started to smile which just -- no. No. So I said, "Don't talk to me," and I didn't even break stride. I sat next to Dena and he retreated to the other side of the room. D. was proud of me. Hell, I was proud of me.

I couldn't stick to my guns, though. I started feeling really conflicted in the middle of it. So afterwards, I stopped him in the hallway. I don't know what I thought would happen, but how it actually went down, well...

Me: Jay. I... I'm sorry for, uh, snapping...
Jay: (repeatedly) No, no, you don't have to apologize. It's your right to feel that way.
Jay: I don't have it in me to do this right now. I have nothing to say to you.
Me: See, that's funny, because I have a lot to say to you.
Jay: I don't have the energy to do this.
Me: No, I need this to happen now, so STFU for two minutes and actually listen to me for once. I was the best damn thing ever to walk into your life. I was so in love with you.
Jay: I never meant to harm you --
Me: No, but you didn't give a shit that you did.

And I walked away.

And it felt really good. And then I got really depressed about it. But then I came home and told Flatmate (Roomie is in Brazil right now... :c ) and her friends, one of whom got dumped by her boyfriend yesterday, and now I feel good about it again. I guess it's just... There's no going back now. I guess there hasn't been for a long time, but now I feel it, instead of just knowing it intellectually. And I am always sad for loss, and I... miss what was, even though everything has been terrible for the last four or five months.

Maybe this is the closure I need. Maybe I'll be able to move on now.

In other news, there are a lot of very very attractive men in my comparative literature course, and two markedly hot guys in my section, and yesterday we did group work and I was in a group with both of them. c: One is named Benjamin and he is buff and has an accent I can't place... I suspect it might be Australia, New Zealand, or South Africa.
sigmastolen: (Default)
So. I am in LB and rather bored, despite Dress Shopping Part 1 and Dentist Appointment, so I resorted to internet quizzes (see immediately previous post) and Pieces of Flair on Facebook. I looked at the "Recently Popular" for the "Emotions" category, and immediately noticed the ridiculous amount of "sad-14-year-old-girl emo flair," as I described it to Malia. And then it was just too good to keep to myself, so I screencapped the emo from the first ten pages! MAI MOCKERY, LET ME SHOW U IT! )

Yeah, yeah, you got me -- the reason I even noticed this trend was that a lot of these actually spoke to me -- evidence of my weakened state. So I made fun of them to make myself feel better, yay! Guess which ones seemed most applicable!


sigmastolen: (Default)

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