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Playing duos with bass players gets me in on some bass gossip. Such as:
When someone asked if we should beef up our bass section (currently two juniors and a freshman, and one of the juniors will be studying abroad for all of winter and spring, which is sad because he's my favourite and the one I'm playing the duo with) by calling Die In A Fire, the response of both the bass teacher AND the conductor was, "NO. NO, NO. NO."

I busted up laughing.

Yeah, it doesn't really hurt anymore, but I have a lot of anger about it still. Not just that -- I have anger about a lot of things. Honestly, I have a lot of rage, these past few months, most of it directionless, simmering and impotent.

But yeah, I still want to punch him in the face. He's pretty scrawny, I bet I could take him out.

Or key his car. Or slash his tires.

Mostly punch him in the face.

RAGE.
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1. OH MY GOD BUSYWORK CLASS WTF.
- four hours of bad-quality video to watch (srsly one of them was so damaged that the screen blanked out every few seconds and the audio was wavering ALLLLLLL over the place. WTF BUSYWORK TEACHER YOU WANT US TO LEARN ABOUT CHORAL TEACHING BY NOT BEING ABLE TO SEE OR HEAR THE CLASS?)
- "video review" that contributes to a 30% chuck of the final grade, for which we have NO GUIDELINES WHATSOEVER THANKS FOR THAT
- five (+ about four more that were SEKRITLY STAPLED TOGETHER) articles (admittedly short) to read
- ONE-PARAGRAPH SUMMARIES of aforementioned articles (which I have not done and have very little intention to)
- take-home mini-quiz which BTW WAS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN IN THE LAST CLASS WAY TO GO WITH THE TIME MANAGEMENT BUSYWORK TEACHER
- random-ass songs to learn and analyse vowels of? I DON'T EVEN KNOW.
To sum up: WTF BUSYWORK CLASS GTFO

2. OMG BASSOON. WHERE DID ALL MY TCHAIK 4 MOJO GO? I swear it's all Charlie's fault, I felt happy about that excerpt until I started working on it with him. FFFFFFFFFFFFFFF IT TOOK ME 3 YEARS OF NO CHARLIE TO GET MY SCHEHEREZADE MOJO BACK I DON'T HAVE 3 MORE YEARS FOR TCHAIK. Also: DEAR REEDS, STOP SUCKING PLS. KTHX.

3. DEAR WEATHER, WTF R U DOIN? It was cold and rainy, and then it was hot and muggy and today was foggy-but-superbright and then I was inside all day and then it was cold and I actually needed to use the heater in the car this evening. What??

4. Note to self: YOU CAN'T PEEL OUT WHEN IT'S RAINING. YOU DON'T HAVE ENOUGH TRACTION FOR THAT. It's okay, though, it happened each time within the first 3 minutes I was driving and none of them were situations that required peeling out and there were no crashes or anything and then after it happened I remembered to accelerate more slowly.

5. ... I don't really know but I feel like there should be a 5. Look for a future post about Star Trek waffles? YES THEY EXIST THIS IS TRUFAX. I sort of wonder how Zoe Saldana feels about people eating her face on waffles. For that matter, also Chris Pine and Zach Quinto (<3 <3 <3)

6. omg i am watching so much star trek. I FOUND ALL THE CHANNELS THAT TOS AND TNG ARE ON AND I DVR THEM AND IT IS WONDERFUL. I LOVE STAR TREK LIKE BURNING.

7. I keep forgetting that having an ear infection is in fact "being sick" -- I run around doing all the things I would normally do and since I'm not coughing or sneezing or feverish or achy or nauseous, I don't actually consider it "being sick" except for the part where my ear sometimes feels funny/painful and I have to take MASSIVE HORSE PILLS three times a day. Except I keep spontaneously sleeping. On the couch in front of the TV, dozing lightly in the library in front of the VCR setup (I HATE YOU BUSYWORK CLASS), taking 3-hour naps in my parents' living room... Well, maybe that's not so unusual -- I tend to fall asleep/take extravagant naps every time I go home, it seems. But still. It's also waaay too hard to get up in the mornings. THANKS BUT NO THANKS, EAR INFECTION.

8. At least I don't have 'flu like my brother. Yeah, apparently today he has a 100-degree fever and coughing. GET YOUR FLU SHOTS, KIDS. Swine flu and seasonal flu. (o btw I was definitely misinformed about the whole "swine flu is the only flu active in the u.s." thing -- there is ALSO regular old seasonal influenza and you should DEFINITELY get flu shots for both kinds k? some of my family from norcal has already had both kinds this fall.)

9. Oh! So, I glimpsed DIAF through the door in a rehearsal for one of the youth orchestras that uses our facilities. And I, like, wanted to get mad and hurt, or I tried to, or something... but then I realised that I don't care enough to get hurt and I don't have the energy for it and, you know what? That felt good. I still kind of wanted to key his car. I didn't, though -- I wanted to go home and eat dinner more. More good, yeah? Heh.

10. My grandma has a guava tree in her back yard and it has FRUIT and some of them are RIPE and so yesterday when we were at her house for lunch my mum and I went out and picked guavas!! And persimmons! (OMG SO MANY PERSIMMON. SO MANY.) I LOVE GUAVAS. I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT GUAVAS. THEY SMELL SO GOOD. AND OMG SO TASTY. I HAVE SO MANY GUAVAS. GUAVAS ARE LOVE. (corrolary: my family is love. SO MUCH LOVE.)

11. This business of being too busy for life sucks a lot, not least because it is making all of my LJ entries freakin' ENORMOUS. OH MY GOD INTERNET I MISS YOU SO MUCH
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I spent all afternoon at home today. Mum and I got our eyebrows threaded (she was so unprepared for the pain. it was a little hilarious), I watched Wall-E, my clothes are clean without me having to spend tons of quarters, I didn't have to cook my own food, I have my new running shoes, and I spent all day with people who love me.

I still feel shitty.

Also, I just got home and first I had to pretend to give a damn about Flatmate's day, and now she is watching shitty trashy tv and I wish I could somehow just not hear it because it is such utter trash. Also:

Dear Style Channel,
"Tranny" is not a word that is okay for you or the people in your shows to use. If a transperson is using it to reclaim it, that is his or her prerogative, but it is considered perjorative in any other context, especially that of completely imbecilic straight women talking about being unfashionable and having "camel-toe."
Get the fuck out of my living room,
Sigma

-----

In other news, the kittens were very good boys at the vet's this morning. They were getting boosters of a vaccine. And, OMG. I was expecting to have to gentle them through big scary needles, BUT NO. INSTEAD THEY SQUIRTED THE MEDICINE INTO THEIR NOSES WITH TINY KITTY NOSE SYRINGES.

They were pretty okay with it, and I was impressed. I much prefer shots to squirting shit up my nose. Seriously, I hate nasal sprays. Hate.

Whoa wtf Baxter is literally trying to climb the walls. WTF KITTEN. WTF.

-----

It kind of disturbs me that I'm saying this before the school year has even begun, but I want to live alone so badly. OMG GTFO OF MY FLAT. God. GODDAMN I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE.

-----

ALSO the news made me angry. There was a segment about medical marijuana dispensaries and how the city of Los Angeles has FAILED ALL OVER ITSELF with a TOTAL LACK OF FEES AND REGULATIONS and it pissed me right the fuck off. Because apparently the borough of Eagle Rock has fucking ELEVEN dispensaries or something, most of them unregistered. I know firsthand that Westwood Village has two or three. There's a loophole in the law that the owners of these places are exploiting to apply to have them, but also the board that is supposed to review said applications or whatever is NOT REVIEWING THEM and they're opening illegally, without licenses or whatever, and no one is stopping them, and OH BY THE WAY the illegal shops? PAY NO TAXES OR FEES BECAUSE THE CITY ISN'T PAYING THEM ANY ATTENTION OR ANYTHING so EVERYTHING they make is profit. And it's a culture and one that is put on a pedestal, fucking idealized and aspired to and worshipped, and somehow the bulk of people pay no attention to how much it actually can (and in many cases does) fuck them up.

But I think what really makes me the most angry is the TOTAL lack of restrictions on who can get a weed card. I am not denying the value of marijuana as a real, medical treatment for some people -- I know a musician who has a serious and painful gastrointestinal (i think?) condition with an equally serious and painful treatment, and being high while she's recovering from it is pretty much all that gets her through it. Similarly, other people with legitimate need of marijuana -- cancer patients, pain patients -- should be able to get it. THIS DOES NOT APPLY to bullshit excuses like, oh, say, exaggerated tendinitis, and then the "patient" immediately goes out and treats it as a justification for buying virtually unlimited amounts of the drug, and a justification for being fucking blazed all the fucking time -- both to others (with limited success) and to himself (BECAUSE ADDICTS ARE LYING LIARS WHO LIE, ESPECIALLY TO THEMSELVES).

I guess what I'm saying is there needs to be a system of controls on (a) who can prescribe it (I'M LOOKING AT YOU, DOCTORS OF DUBIOUS INTEGRITY), (b) for what reasons it can be prescribed, and (c) how much a patient can acquire. YOU WANT TO CALL IT MEDICINE? TREAT IT LIKE OTHER PRESCRIPTION DRUGS. YOU KNOW, WITH REAL PRESCRIPTIONS AND PHARMACIES. NONE OF THIS "CANNABIS COLLECTIVE" HIPPIE BULLSHIT. I AM CALLING YOU OUT, LOS ANGELES, MEDICAL PROFESSION, UNITED STATES, WHO-THE-FUCK-EVER. GET IT THE FUCK TOGETHER. GET IT UNDER SOME FUCKING CONTROL.

Um. It, ah, touches a FUCKING nerve, okay? FUCK.

because i'll always wish i had protested more.

FUCK.



FUCK.
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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?
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Dear Shoe Boy,
You're still gorgeous, but the after-hours drop at the library is meant to be used after hours. There is no bin there when we are open, which you could clearly see, because that wall is floor-to-ceiling windows. When we are open, you are meant to come the fuck inside and return your books in the inside drop bin.

Not as indulgent as you think I am,
Sigma

Composers, I swear.

Today when I looked out the window of my flat it was frighteningly hazy, and my chest was tight enough that I needed to use my inhaler without doing anything more than walking to the window, so I decided to delay today's run. Hopefully the air will be clearer this evening? If it isn't, I'll take today as a Day Of Rest and nudge the training schedule back a day. Or until I'm no longer afraid to open the windows. Granted, I'll likely have to regress to a smaller run-to-walk ratio, but that's okay. I'd rather not breathe smoke.

Yesterday I finally started my grad school research. I'm still running with this (admittedly baseless) idea that Chicago is A Place I Want To Be, so that would mean Northwestern (technically in Evanston but not prohibitively far from Symphony Center eh?), Roosevelt, or DePaul. From there I jumped to check out the New York schools (god the Manhattan SoM sounds fantastic but I'm a little afraid of NYC and I'd probably never ever get in anyway), and I'm working my way westwards. The idea is that I want to go to school far, far away. And apparently my parents want to have a Serious Conversation about that with me, which will be joyous, I'm sure. I know I was talking a lot a while ago about going to grad school in Europe, but... I dunno. It's proving difficult to find information on what schools are even "good," especially information in English (because I just don't have the patience to wade through real-life German right now), and I'm pretty sure I don't want to end up playing with any kind of European "sound," although the German sound is miles better than French or even English bassoon. And Europe might be prohibitively expensive right now. Plus I have latched onto Chicago-in-my-head, which is kind of undercutting my motivation to investigate European schools. Eh. Musicians (er, Amanda), where are the other schools I should be looking at? How have I studied music in college for four years without knowing this? How have my friends found out where they should apply? (Of course, now that I'm looking inside the U.S. I imagine my teacher will have a lot more info for me.)

Also! I just spent a good long while chatting with Former Dungeon Master Ben about schools and teaching and sci-fi (he's reading Asimov for the first time; I've been DVRing Star Trek TOS & TNG and overdosing on Torchwood and reading all sorts of interesting meta about Sci-Fi and Television and Issues) and just... life. And I loooooove Ben and I miss hanging out with him, but inside my head (probably not inside his) the spectre of J hangs between us and I definitely still want J to Die In A Fire. I definitely felt a lot less awkward today than a few months ago, though, which is comforting. Because we are, in fact, friends on our own merit and not just through J. I <3 Ben. (and god damn do I miss playing D&D. *pout*)

In other news, one of my fellow Library Assistants suggested putting honey in coffee, which I had never considered before (because honey is for tea!). I tried it today, and it was actually quite good. *shrug* Who knew?

To Do This Evening:
- run if the air is decent
- practise (despite kitties hiding)
- put a new bag into Mom's Badass Canister Vacuum (which is now MY badass canister vac because she got a fancy new one just like it but better and a different colour!! YAAAAY I LOVE MY MOMMY SHE GIVES ME HER CAST-OFF AUTOMOBILES AND HOUSEHOLD APPLIANCES) and vacuum the shit (NOT LITERAL SHIT YOU GUYS) out of my bathroom and the kitties' scratching post and cat carrier, which have been outside de-fleaing and de-Raiding for the past week and are probably now covered in ash.
- make pesto??? -- my basil has gotten pretty large -- and pasta go to with :)
- hang out with Dory, who asked this morning if he could crash on my couch. Yay! I hope he's not allergic to cats... Not that they'll be on him or anything, they sleep with me with the door shut, but still. Dander and all.
- deal with more of my Desk Heap maybe? I got a little bit of it sorted the other night -- or at least, it's now an orderly tower of stuff on top of the printer instead of a jumble of crap all over everywhere. I'm finding myself with a shocking lack of space for papers and things, though, and I don't really know how that happened, because I can't imagine where all these papers used to be hiding. I don't know, Abergavenny? oh god torchwood in my brain
- Pow-wow with Flatmate re: rent, which is due, to find out how we're adjusting for her doing automatic deposits for the cable. (know what SUCKS though? the building manager called me this morning and informed me that the pet deposit will be $400 which is a lot more than I anticipated. Aaaaarg.)
- OMG CUT TIES WITH PAC PROMOS. Which means finding the original paperwork. Which reminds me.

PSA TIEM!!!
If you are approached by a representative of PAC Promos, Inc., DON'T LET THEM TALK YOU INTO ANYTHING. RUN THE OTHER WAY. This mostly applies to ladies who have cause to be on a college campus in SoCal, because that is where they approach people (that is where they approached me).
The discounted salon services sound really nice but they charge you $20 a month and they DON'T STOP. I ended up not even being able to make time for any of the salon trips before the offer expired. At the time, I figured, "Oh well, whatever, I am allowed to make poor choices with my own money" (and $20 a month is definitely my own money, and not my parents') and assumed that they'd stop charging me once the offer expired. NOT SO. Which I did not notice until yesterday. Fuck me. And all the reviews I've read say that cutting ties with them is a huge hassle, which I'm not looking forward to.

... Hooray! Or not.
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So Roomie moved out on Sunday... And she took the telly and the cat with her. I miss Roomie. :( And Rosco.

Flatmate was sick as a dog all weekend, which sucked for her a lot because it was graduation and her band had a gig and her parents and her bf's parents were in town and she was pretty miserable....

And now I have caught Flatmate's Monster Chest Cold From Hell. And it sucks a lot. Apparently I currently have a 100-degree fever? Well I just took some drugs so I should be feeling better in about 20 minutes.

Anyway, Flatmate and I just got back from signing the lease to our new place. That's right, we're moving to Culver City... next week. (We saw a Culver City cop car and the seal on the door said, humorously, "City of Culver City." Department of Redundancy Department, anyone?) It's big, it's bright, it's airy, and it's walking distance from a TON of stuff, including a Coffee Bean, a Hollywood Video, an awesome late-night Mediterranean cafe, an awesome Cuban restaurant, a cool-looking cocktail lounge, and several Thai places, as well as a short drive from downtown Culver, the 405, the 10, my high school bassoon teacher's house, the Museum of Jurassic Technology (I've been wanting to go there since I found out about it a couple years ago!!), and a bunch of shopping centres.

All of which makes today better than yesterday, despite me not being quite as sick yesterday... I was sick enough to be irritable, and then I got really randomly morose (I recounted The J. Story to a friend on Monday and I thought I was done letting it affect me that much, but I guess I'm still not really okay with the part where we probably saved his life and then when he was lucid again, he wanted nothing to do with me), and then I cheered up again but I was really weak and feverish and miserable walking home.

So I'm taking the afternoon off, to try and conserve my strength for a rehearsal this evening. Aaaaaaaaaaaaugh
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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?)
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The TV advert I just saw? Porn star Jenna Jameson in Zombie Strippers!. Actual quote from the movie: "Our best stripper is a reanimated corpse."

In other news, I have been having trouble reconciling my beliefs about love with how I've been feeling lately. Because I do think love, if it is real, is something that won't go away, but last night I described J. as a "steaming pile of horse shit" (yeah, it made me smirk) and tonight I amended it to "certain steaming piles of horse shit that we all know and hate" and this animosity seems incongruent. Maybe it's part of being a human? But also, perhaps, I loved the man he was. But that man is dead, has ceased to exist... and I'll always love that man, but this new one?

Not so much.

*shrug*
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I just unfriended him and his mom on Facebook. No turning back, baby!
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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.
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So. Thursday was Orchestra Concert.1. Thursday was also when I saw Jay for the first time since all the shit went down.

I was in the library talking to Z and I realised I needed to change. So on my way to my locker I walked past the orchestra room, where the YMF Debut Orchestra was warming up. I looked in to see who the bassoonists were and there he was, playing his bass. I'm pretty sure he didn't see me, as it was just a glance through the doorway, and maybe it's better that way? Because this was a shock (especially to find him in one of MY places) and I almost lost it, but now the initial awful part is out of the way and I'll be more in control if I have to interact with him. It was pretty bad, though. I let it get to me and I almost cried but then I needed to change clothes and play a concert so I didn't and I did and I almost lost it onstage because the Prokofiev was so intense but I held it together and then afterwards I followed Z home and cried a lot.

I almost didn't get up the next day. Or rather, I got up, showered, dressed, and then laid back down and then I almost didn't get up again. I have too much of a complex about being Needed during the course of the day, though.

I want him to hurt. Why should he get to live his life? It isn't fair that he is so unaffected when I hurt so much. Part of the reason I've been able to keep going is pretending that nothing happened and he doesn't exist, and then he was right there in the building and I couldn't pretend anymore and that was a pretty awful shock, too.

I suggested two things at the time -- that we find his car and key it, or that Z punch him in the face for me. Z informed me that I didn't actually want to do either of those things. Having thought about it, I don't think I was serious about keying his car, but I'm pretty sure I meant it about punching him in the face.

Maybe the worst part about knowing he was there, though, was that today I entered the building with my stomach in knots, anxious that I might run into him (I didn't, of course). I don't want to live in fear like this.

:C
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I guess what I would most like to understand is this:

I am lovely, intelligent, geeky, sensual, and I am nothing but good to the people I love. Why, then, am I so easy to hurt and to leave?

edit;; Or rather, I think what I mean is, why does it seem to be so inconsequential to them if they hurt me? Why is does it not seem to affect them when they leave me? Why can't I hold on to a man?

Yes, I am a little disgusted with myself right now. I need to stop being so full of the drama.

edit.2;; What lies at the heart of this is the deep insult, insecurity, and bewilderment I feel when I discourse with imaginary! Ben, Diana, or Jay in my head and get to the part where he told me he loved me, then broke my heart and didn't give a shit about it and how is that possible? How can he not care that he hurt someone he professed to love?

Oh god I really need to stop letting my brain circle around this him this shit
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I was kind of in a dark mood today, despite the rain, which I love... Ben came into the library this morning (before a lesson) and... I mean. I feel so stilted around him. What with the elephant in the corner and all. And I want to... ask him about Jay, I guess? Because even though he broke my heart and then didn't give a damn, and even though I don't want to see him or talk to him because it will hurt... I do still miss him a lot. Today especially. And just a minute ago, Roomie mentioned that she has always wanted to visit Griffith Observatory -- which was something he and I had talked about doing. It... made me sad.

I swear the middle parts of my day were good. And full of Mozart.
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I'd be fine except for the emotional and temporal immediacy of all the Shit That Went Down, and the fact that the go-out-and-have-single-girl-fun plans I made with Roomie fell through (she and her sister are going out to dinner with their family instead, because they're for whatever reason in Santa Barbara this weekend (instead of Fremont), which is totally okay and I understand completely)... leaving me here with Flatmate who is getting ready to go out with her bf (and they're an adorable couple and I love them together, it's just. you know.) and the cat who enjoys spilling his water all over the kitchen floor. And last night all three of us were running around getting dressed up at the same time, but... I was putting on concert black for the opera, while they were going on Valentine's Day dates (or fake dates in Roomie's case but she still pulled out all the stops) and I felt it pretty intensely then, too.

I just... I miss Jay a lot. And I've been much happier since I decided that, no, he doesn't deserve me, and yes, I am gorgeous and smart and can go out with my girlfriends and have a great time. Neither of these things is preventing me from missing him, though. Especially when I remember the opera run last year -- snogging during the intervals and our not-so-inconspicuous exit from the orchestra after-party (on running into the host in the hallway outside the lift: "Leaving so soon, Jay?" "Yeah, well, I've gotta go bang my girlfriend." "Oh, that's all right then.") -- and the fact that Valentine's Day was in the middle of that as well and it had been just a short time since we started dating and my recital was the next day and both of us had almost completely forgotten until someone asked what we were going to do, so we went out to dinner at Islands (classy, I know, but the other place we tried had too long a wait and we were both super hungry) and... well. I'm forging ahead and I'm proud of that, I feel happier, but I still love him and it still hurts a bit. Especially on days like this when it seems like I'm the only one not having fun, when I have too much time to be in my own head, and when American society is telling me, in no uncertain terms, that I should be Out With A Man instead of In With My Cat.
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1. My entire life is Mozart right now.

2. I have played so much bassoon today.

3. I have no idea what my flatmate is watching/listening to on her computer right now but it is irritating as fuck.

4. Just now, I tried to type a '/' and ended up hitting '.' ... TWICE.

5. OMG IS SHE DONE? no... no, just something else. but less irritating?

6. I'd like to tentatively announce that I'm losing weight somehow? Not exactly sure what is causing it. I might be eating less. In any case, yay.

7. Today would have been one year. I'm sort of glad I was so busy, because otherwise it could have become very wretched, very fast. I had a rather profound moment of, "You don't deserve me," though, which... made me sad? But it was also empowering.
7a. Seriously, Jill is made of the trashy. What is the appeal? I am so cute and classy and smart and geeky. What gives?

8. I'm really glad today was payday so tomorrow I can pick up the check and *ahem* deposit the one from last time oops and not be so poor anymore!
8a. Also I want to buy new clothes. Esp. jeans, nice-ish tops, dresses.
8b. I need to shop for recital dresses. And also dresses for Going Out (particularly for an upcoming party my roomies and I are planning). And I want a Little Black Dress. Because I don't have one and Tim Gunn says every girl should have one and Tim Gunn must be right because Tim Gunn knows his shit.

9. I don't enjoy being single, and I especially am not enjoying this round of being single, but Roomie and I had a heart-to-heart the other night and she says I'm not enjoying it because I'm not doing anything exciting with it so she decided that she and her sister are going to take me out and she and I will be Single Girls together (not her sister though because she's seeing someone... she's invited because she is Awesome) and it will be fun. I'm sort of afraid that even if it is fun I'll find some way to end up being sad and no fun.

10. Another thing that sucks about being single is Not Getting Any. IT SUCKS. Amirite?

10 feels like a good number to stop on. Well, 10 + 3 anyway.

*pout*

Feb. 2nd, 2009 09:14 pm
sigmastolen: (Default)
I didn't really expect this -- maybe I should have -- but... if Jay and I aren't talking, I don't have anyone to geek about Heroes with. And it just made me incredibly sad.
sigmastolen: (Default)
Remember this post in which I recounted a conversation I had with a male friend in which he asked me whether Jay was good in bed? So, he was in town at the beginning of January and there was a party and so, with the aid of some very strong G&T for liquid courage, I asked him why he had asked that. And he said something to the effect of, "I was honestly curious whether a guy like him would be a good lover." And I almost replied, "Tall skinny nerdy guys? Or did you know back then that he was only looking out for himself?" And then my ride went home and one of his roommates (and, incidentally, also (formerly?) a good friend of Jay's) proceeded to try and get in my pants and that was sort of horrifically uncomfortable, especially since he kept trying to have meaningful conversation except I was drunk and trying very hard not to be miserable and neither of those things is conducive to meaningful conversation and he was very well aware that I was in no place to be able to deal with friends making moves on me anyway.

Good times!

gah.

Feb. 1st, 2009 06:30 pm
sigmastolen: (Default)
painfully honest post is painful. )

And right now I'm supposed to be writing a paper that's due Tuesday because I definitely won't want to write it tomorrow, but I don't want to write it today, either, because it's supposed to be on one of the most poorly-written, poorly-argued articles I have ever read. At least it's only four pages?
sigmastolen: (Default)
Around this time, two years ago, I was just making friends with him.

Around this time, one year ago, I was deciding to flirt with him.

Eleven months ago, I was blissfully happy in our new relationship.

Eight months ago, I was in love with him and he with me -- so he said. (For the record, he said it first. Frankly, I am cautious of saying it, after some of my other experiences.)

Six months ago, I was probably sneaking off into the stacks to have a private midday cry after awkwardly trying to make just-friends conversation with him.

Two months ago, I was starting to believe we might get back together.

One month ago, I was worrying myself sick over him.

This week? Crying again; bitter and hurt again. I miss him a lot. And I don't know anymore if it could ever work again, not really, but that doesn't stop me wishing for it.

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