Good afternoon! It's a lovely day, and I'm sitting here in the library texting my baby and typing on here because I am a lonely Kevin and I have no friends! Whee! Isn't life grand?
Really though, this library is beautiful. It's the nicest library I've ever been in, and I've been in a lot. There are four floors, and each one is stuffed with books and decorated with different languages' alphabets on the floor (there's music too) and built with really lovely postmodern architecture. Well, I guess it's a little modern too. There's a Nike of Samothrace reproduction in the study room, and an exhibit of different books and maps and things downstairs, and did I mention the wonderful collection of books? I went to the top floor, to the history and politics section, and I stayed there reading and reveling until I was almost late for my next class. There's also a very sizable Linguistics section, and I might visit there tomorrow, if I'm not distracted by something else first. I love it so much! So now I'm here in one of the study areas (ish), because my roommate decided to invite a bunch of people over to our dorm and I couldn't face staying in there with them. I came here about an hour ago, thinking I could do my homework and study and be busy at least until dinnertime, but I'm all done with everything I brought with me (I don't want to go all the way back to the dorm to get my political science stuff), and I'm stuck here for the conceivable future, unless I want to go back and hang out with Brittni and Lindsi and Halli and whomever else darling Melissa has taken it into her head to call upon. And I don't want to do that, obviously. SO here I am!
You know, some people here are really flippin' rude. I mean, really impolite. Castiglione would have his work cut out for him. I don't know if it's something in the water, or maybe the air from the cornfields, that makes folks want to act like boorish apes, but it shore is happening, and at my expense! I feel like Hester Prynne. Okay, so I'm wearing my pink lace dress today, which is kind of short, but not too bad, and a bit low-cut, but again, not too bad, and admittedly very tight, like Jessica Rabbit's dress, but I've seen worse on many a hipster in LA. It's really cute, and it makes me feel more confident, which is something necessary in this air that kills, do you not agree? But all the girls I pass have been casting the evil eye and giving me downwards glances (quite blatantly too, I do declare), which isn't surprising, since they are all taller than I, but which feels somewhat demeaning. I would understand if I looked gross in this dress, but (and I don't want to be gauche here) I really don't! My stomach is completely flat; there's no pudge at all, and my bust looks amazing too, and I know it's a really bright color, but I can wear bright colors and get away with it. So there's really no call for them all to be judging me so harshly. One particularly irrepressible harpy even looked at me, clapped her hand over her mouth, and walked away snickering, and had I brought Daisy Bell with me, I would have started to work on my transfer applications right then and there. I know it seems cool and clever and stick-it-to-the-man to look down on pretty people, but believe me when I say sincerely that it's really not. I can't speak for everyone, but I feel like I can't be the only person trying to stave off a complete breakdown through a verisimilitude to beauty. If that's all you have going for you, well then, of course you want to play it up, even if it makes you stand out more, because that's all there is between surviving and crumbling. I don't think I'm expressing myself very well, and even if I were, if someone were to read it, he would immediately castigate me as being stupid, vain, misguided, shallow, or any one of the pretty bits of denigration that so adorn the idiolects of practically everyone in this deluded generation. So it's probably not good to talk about this stuff. And man, it sure does bring down the tone of this piece here! I always end up being depressing, and it's the most annoying thing. I used to be able to handle myself better. Get it together, Jasmine!
As a disclaimer, let me just stress that not everyone here is rude. Some people (particularly the guys) are very nice. I've met some lovely people in my classes, and on Sunday I went to the common room to play cards with some of my hallmates (2/3 of whom were guys, but you know), and that was a fun time for me. I constantly have to ask directions to different places, because there hasn't been a single day yet where I haven't gotten lost at least twice, and if I take care to ask guys, I can always get helpful and kind answers to my (numerous) queries. I get hit on a lot too, but that's not as beneficial. So, yup! Not everyone here is an evil troll! Just mostly everyone!
I'm really hungry. I want to get food, but if I get food now, it won't be sensible, cuz it'll be another five or six hours until I go to bed, and then I'll be hungry again. So I think it's better to eat later, like I'm used to. Or something. I dunno. Also, I wouldn't have anywhere to eat, because Melissa is still partying it up, and I couldn't possibly go back to the dorm and eat in front of all them people. But anyway, I got a system here, and don't you dispute it! So, in the morning, I go to Starbucks or the Espress-OH cafe (what a clever name, don't you agree?) and get coffee or whatever, and then that's my breakfast, because I'm okay with drinking stuff in public. And then at about 9:00 when the commotion is dying down, I go out and buy dinner and take it back to my dorm and eat it while I'm studying (Melissa is never there, so it's okay). And then I go to bed! It's a convenient system, the only problem being that I get all hungry in the middle of the day. But no system is perfect! Just look at the metric system! I mean, no, the standard one. The metric system is pretty swag.
I miss Austin, man! He's my bby, and I like him lots. It's dumb, but I've sort of convinced myself that he's serious about liking me (although for the life of me I can't figure out why). Oh no, I sound like a horrible prick! Okay, don't worry, I'm not entirely convinced that he likes me, and I know he's going to stop soon, and I definitely don't accept it as my due or anything. I still feel like it's an entirely plausible explanation that he just wants him some Jasmine booty (though he doesn't seem like that kind of person, the darling) and all this sweet-talk is about as sincere as the facade on a neoclassical French building, but I'm such a gullible and inexperienced dimwit when it comes to this sort of thing that it's hard to maintain a stony indifference. Now, okay, of course I'm not inexperienced when it comes to love, but sincere love, that's a different story. I think Roger liked me, but of course that worked out to a tragedy, and Francisco, of course, liked (likes?) me inside and out, but other than those two, I think there's no one else who hasn't just wanted the DD (zing!). So, you'll forgive me, or at least understand where I'm coming from, if I'm a little bit skeptical here! I like Austin so much, and I want to stay with him, but if all he wants is my ass, I'm going to have to get rid of him, and uggh I don't want to, but that's the way the world works. I really don't want to go through the whole at-least-someone-finds-me-attractive bit again, and I don't want to place my bets with someone who only keeps me around because he finds me attractive. I know this sounds horrible and all, and if you're a real person reading this you probably hate me, but tell me, why is self-respect so demonized that I can't even be allowed this much pride? UGH. Everything is so difficult.
I really am a brat. "Oh no," whines Jasmine, "Countless boys think I'm pretty! Whatever shall I do?" Well, I'll tell you what you should do, Jazzy. You should man up and be a woman! Let's go! Oh, baby wants to Skype. Okeydokey! Man, I'm such a loser.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Love, I guess
It's more than a feeling when I hear that old song they used to play... Man, okay, this is pretty dumb, but nowadays, I've been getting all emotional over songs. Like, that one, and I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing by Aerosmith, and man, I think I'm turning into a sentimentalist. I'm one of those horrible people who thinks about nothing and says nothing, but everything at the same time (oops, that sounded deeply meaningful, and all I meant was that those people prattle on about boring topics all the livelong day). Not to say that Austin is nothing, because he's definitely something to me. Ew, there I go again. Gross. Maybe I should have a way of gauging my potential eye-glaze factor. I mean, you see, I don't think I'm boring, because everything I say is fascinating to me, otherwise I wouldn't be saying it, but I'm sure it's quite an earful of vapidity to everyone else. Therefore, if for any reason you are a real person reading this, and not Jasmine, I would advise you to step away now, because this next bit is going to be a doozy.
I'm such a sentimentalist. I never knew it, because I've never been before. I mean, not really. I suppose I am a bit on occasion, but now I've become this horrible annoying person, and I feel so strange about it. Like, I talk about love and all that good stuff on here so often, and it's got to be a bad habit, I think. And I actually sometimes respond now when Austin tells me cute things! I keep telling myself not to, because each thing I say will be more embarrassment later, but it comes spilling out anyway. I don't know, I think most people have that, where there's so much emotional fluff inside that it has to come out at some point, and when it does, it's truly dreadful to everyone but those directly concerned. I know I say some dreadful things. I can't think of an example offhand, but I'm sure there is one. Then again, I'm not exactly sure I want to think of one, because my own saccharine mentality does a good bit to mortify the flesh and soul as well. It's so bad. You know, I don't even have the desire to flirt with guys anymore, no matter how hot they are. The other day, some fine lookin' dude was giving me the one-over, and all I could think was, "You're not Austin, get over yourself." Then I couldn't believe I'd thought that, but that doesn't change the fact that I did. You know, guys are just horribly annoying now (the ones who try to hit on me, that is, not guys in general; I don't practice misandry). I had to Skype with Tim yesterday, and he was trying his best to chat me up, but I didn't even feel flattered or anything. Is that bad? All my life, even if I thought a guy was annoying, I'd been just a little tickled that someone actually thought I was worth noticing, even just for a superficial purpose. Of course, the other part of me was annoyed and all that, but the fact still remains. And now– what? Have I turned into the cold and heartless person I was meant to be? Or am I so besotted with Austin that any other guys just seems irritating in comparison? Neither of those options sound very good, to be honest. I don't want know what to think anymore. Why can I not be one of those people who is so sure about everything? Everyone I know, or seemingly everyone, knows his or her own situation to perfection and is always sure about these matters. Who else but me would be unsure if someone liked her, at this point in the game? It's so sad! I want to believe it so much, but I just can't quite. This all makes me feel so stupid! Why does it have to be this way? Maybe I should just retreat into a turtle shell and never talk to him again. That would solve the problem, right? Or maybe I should try to stop liking him (because you know I do). Then when the inevitable crash came, I would be securely on the shores of nonchalant disregard, and all would be well with my soul. I don't want to give him up though! Even if it's going to bring problems, this current state of affairs makes me so happy! But that's not good either. UGH. I wish I were good at all this sort of thing!
I'm really insecure. Man. That must be such a turn-off to everyone.
But, okay, this is going to sound so stupid to me in the future. But maybe he might really and truly like me? I can't believe it either (as I made quite clear), but before you start thinking I'm a person who assumes everyone is in love with her, let me think this out in a logical and thoughtful way. So. You see, he put his profile picture on Facebook as one of us together. I don't know, I feel like if he were trying to play some sort of prank on me, he would be more private about it, you know? Like, he wouldn't want to set himself up for the possible embarrassment of having people misjudge his little joke vis-a-vis me. So that might be a good sign, right? I looked through all his profile pictures, though, because I'm a creep, and none of them were with the girls he's dated, so that might be a bad sign after all. Like, maybe he will claim it's some massive and hilarious joke and everyone who doesn't get it is just not in the know. So I'm not sure there. Let's see, what else. So, his tumblr is full of references to what I think might be me, but then again, I'm horribly conceited, and I might just be imagining things, as I said before. But at least, okay, he posted one (completely hideous, may I add) picture of me saying, "we're on a date thing, how adorable is she?" from when we went out one time, and one with a (better, but still not wildly attractive) picture, with a caption saying, "goodbye :'(" so at least I know for sure those were about me. Right? I mean, he wouldn't use a picture of me to talk about someone else, would he? And then he makes posts that seem oddly specific to my situation. Then other ones are just general cutesy love things. Actually, his blog is really, really, girly. If it's not love or cheesy quotes or corny songs, it's pictures of sunsets and snowflakes and pretty flowers, and I'm pretty sure there are some fluffy little animals in there too. In contrast, mine has political stuff, economic stuff, Supernatural and other dorky fan stuff, literature references, a mixture of puns and lame jokes, and stuff that no one but me would find funny. But where was I? Oh yes. So, if he's going to put stuff like this on his blog, which isn't something most people see, and is really a pretty personal thing, maybe he really does mean it! I don't know, man, I don't know. I just really want him to like me! Is that sad and lame? It is, I know. I'm sad and lame. But what can you say to a woman in love?
Ugh, you know I got it reeal bad. He makes me smile whenever I think of him (and it looks pretty silly when I'm striding across campus with a big ole grin on my face), and so many things he does make my pore heart flop around like a salmon on a leash. I feel like such a silly person, actually, because he can say or do the simplest thing, and I'll be tremendously affected. And there are things about him that seem so insignificant, but which are so completely endearing to me, and then I feel like one of those white people in the Nicholas Sparks books, and then I'm ashamed of myself. Bleh. I think I could potentially be one of those white people, actually, although I hope I'm not, because they always seem to die prematurely. But, yeah! That's my story right there! Problematic and silly and quite embarrassing when disaster strikes! I wish so much that I could be the Rozencrantz to his Guildenstern, and not lose him when he goes to school too, but that's too much to hope for, I mean, really now. I guess I'll accept these happy days until they end, and then I'll get Tim, or Jesse, or whoever, to comfort me in my despair and loneliness. I'm sure he will be happy to oblige.
I'm such a sentimentalist. I never knew it, because I've never been before. I mean, not really. I suppose I am a bit on occasion, but now I've become this horrible annoying person, and I feel so strange about it. Like, I talk about love and all that good stuff on here so often, and it's got to be a bad habit, I think. And I actually sometimes respond now when Austin tells me cute things! I keep telling myself not to, because each thing I say will be more embarrassment later, but it comes spilling out anyway. I don't know, I think most people have that, where there's so much emotional fluff inside that it has to come out at some point, and when it does, it's truly dreadful to everyone but those directly concerned. I know I say some dreadful things. I can't think of an example offhand, but I'm sure there is one. Then again, I'm not exactly sure I want to think of one, because my own saccharine mentality does a good bit to mortify the flesh and soul as well. It's so bad. You know, I don't even have the desire to flirt with guys anymore, no matter how hot they are. The other day, some fine lookin' dude was giving me the one-over, and all I could think was, "You're not Austin, get over yourself." Then I couldn't believe I'd thought that, but that doesn't change the fact that I did. You know, guys are just horribly annoying now (the ones who try to hit on me, that is, not guys in general; I don't practice misandry). I had to Skype with Tim yesterday, and he was trying his best to chat me up, but I didn't even feel flattered or anything. Is that bad? All my life, even if I thought a guy was annoying, I'd been just a little tickled that someone actually thought I was worth noticing, even just for a superficial purpose. Of course, the other part of me was annoyed and all that, but the fact still remains. And now– what? Have I turned into the cold and heartless person I was meant to be? Or am I so besotted with Austin that any other guys just seems irritating in comparison? Neither of those options sound very good, to be honest. I don't want know what to think anymore. Why can I not be one of those people who is so sure about everything? Everyone I know, or seemingly everyone, knows his or her own situation to perfection and is always sure about these matters. Who else but me would be unsure if someone liked her, at this point in the game? It's so sad! I want to believe it so much, but I just can't quite. This all makes me feel so stupid! Why does it have to be this way? Maybe I should just retreat into a turtle shell and never talk to him again. That would solve the problem, right? Or maybe I should try to stop liking him (because you know I do). Then when the inevitable crash came, I would be securely on the shores of nonchalant disregard, and all would be well with my soul. I don't want to give him up though! Even if it's going to bring problems, this current state of affairs makes me so happy! But that's not good either. UGH. I wish I were good at all this sort of thing!
I'm really insecure. Man. That must be such a turn-off to everyone.
But, okay, this is going to sound so stupid to me in the future. But maybe he might really and truly like me? I can't believe it either (as I made quite clear), but before you start thinking I'm a person who assumes everyone is in love with her, let me think this out in a logical and thoughtful way. So. You see, he put his profile picture on Facebook as one of us together. I don't know, I feel like if he were trying to play some sort of prank on me, he would be more private about it, you know? Like, he wouldn't want to set himself up for the possible embarrassment of having people misjudge his little joke vis-a-vis me. So that might be a good sign, right? I looked through all his profile pictures, though, because I'm a creep, and none of them were with the girls he's dated, so that might be a bad sign after all. Like, maybe he will claim it's some massive and hilarious joke and everyone who doesn't get it is just not in the know. So I'm not sure there. Let's see, what else. So, his tumblr is full of references to what I think might be me, but then again, I'm horribly conceited, and I might just be imagining things, as I said before. But at least, okay, he posted one (completely hideous, may I add) picture of me saying, "we're on a date thing, how adorable is she?" from when we went out one time, and one with a (better, but still not wildly attractive) picture, with a caption saying, "goodbye :'(" so at least I know for sure those were about me. Right? I mean, he wouldn't use a picture of me to talk about someone else, would he? And then he makes posts that seem oddly specific to my situation. Then other ones are just general cutesy love things. Actually, his blog is really, really, girly. If it's not love or cheesy quotes or corny songs, it's pictures of sunsets and snowflakes and pretty flowers, and I'm pretty sure there are some fluffy little animals in there too. In contrast, mine has political stuff, economic stuff, Supernatural and other dorky fan stuff, literature references, a mixture of puns and lame jokes, and stuff that no one but me would find funny. But where was I? Oh yes. So, if he's going to put stuff like this on his blog, which isn't something most people see, and is really a pretty personal thing, maybe he really does mean it! I don't know, man, I don't know. I just really want him to like me! Is that sad and lame? It is, I know. I'm sad and lame. But what can you say to a woman in love?
Ugh, you know I got it reeal bad. He makes me smile whenever I think of him (and it looks pretty silly when I'm striding across campus with a big ole grin on my face), and so many things he does make my pore heart flop around like a salmon on a leash. I feel like such a silly person, actually, because he can say or do the simplest thing, and I'll be tremendously affected. And there are things about him that seem so insignificant, but which are so completely endearing to me, and then I feel like one of those white people in the Nicholas Sparks books, and then I'm ashamed of myself. Bleh. I think I could potentially be one of those white people, actually, although I hope I'm not, because they always seem to die prematurely. But, yeah! That's my story right there! Problematic and silly and quite embarrassing when disaster strikes! I wish so much that I could be the Rozencrantz to his Guildenstern, and not lose him when he goes to school too, but that's too much to hope for, I mean, really now. I guess I'll accept these happy days until they end, and then I'll get Tim, or Jesse, or whoever, to comfort me in my despair and loneliness. I'm sure he will be happy to oblige.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Why am I here?
Good evening! I'm here to discuss my life with you. I'm sure that's a welcome subject, right?
Of course it is. You love me.
Well, now! I'm feeling positively cheerful now! After threats from Mom and pleas from Austin and admonitions from Francisco, I finally forced myself to go out and buy food for myself! I had to look pretty hard to find a place that didn't have many people in it, but finally I found a little cafe that sold Chinese and Korean food. That's what I'm used to, of course, so in I went and got some chicken and dumplings and stuff, and I took it back to my room and ate the whole blame box. I kept telling myself to save some for tomorrow, but it went so fast. Actually, no, I did save some dumplings in the refrigerator. But, yeah! I'm a fatty and I have no self control! Which is, in the grand scheme of things, a good thing, because maybe now I can set myself on the road to health again. I think my ribs were starting to pop out. I feel really proud, too; I just conquered fear and started in on my rehabilitation to normalcy, and man, it shouldn't feel like such a victory, but it is. Whee!
Speaking of Francisco (well, I mean, I mentioned him), he's been such a prop to my old age and a helpmeet to my helplessness and all that good stuff. He Skypes me when I'm lonely, and he texts me every day, and he tries to make me feel better and give me advice. He was trying to tell me how to cook so I won't die of starvation (with varying degrees of success), and he's even nice to Austin (I accidentally set them talking to each other on Skype, did I mention that?). I just really appreciate him, I mean, he's such a good friend to have. It's so nice to feel like he's got my back here and all.
Ew, that was mushy. I'm really a sentimentalist at heart.
Now it's time to annoy you all by talking about Austin! Aren't you happy I decided to come on here tonight? I really am a treasure. Now. It occurred to me that my booboo comprises most of the ideals on which I decided when I was younger than I am now. So, to prove the point, I will faithfully reproduce and comment on an ancient script, lovingly archived from Thursday, July 23 2009:
Of course it is. You love me.
Well, now! I'm feeling positively cheerful now! After threats from Mom and pleas from Austin and admonitions from Francisco, I finally forced myself to go out and buy food for myself! I had to look pretty hard to find a place that didn't have many people in it, but finally I found a little cafe that sold Chinese and Korean food. That's what I'm used to, of course, so in I went and got some chicken and dumplings and stuff, and I took it back to my room and ate the whole blame box. I kept telling myself to save some for tomorrow, but it went so fast. Actually, no, I did save some dumplings in the refrigerator. But, yeah! I'm a fatty and I have no self control! Which is, in the grand scheme of things, a good thing, because maybe now I can set myself on the road to health again. I think my ribs were starting to pop out. I feel really proud, too; I just conquered fear and started in on my rehabilitation to normalcy, and man, it shouldn't feel like such a victory, but it is. Whee!
Speaking of Francisco (well, I mean, I mentioned him), he's been such a prop to my old age and a helpmeet to my helplessness and all that good stuff. He Skypes me when I'm lonely, and he texts me every day, and he tries to make me feel better and give me advice. He was trying to tell me how to cook so I won't die of starvation (with varying degrees of success), and he's even nice to Austin (I accidentally set them talking to each other on Skype, did I mention that?). I just really appreciate him, I mean, he's such a good friend to have. It's so nice to feel like he's got my back here and all.
Ew, that was mushy. I'm really a sentimentalist at heart.
Now it's time to annoy you all by talking about Austin! Aren't you happy I decided to come on here tonight? I really am a treasure. Now. It occurred to me that my booboo comprises most of the ideals on which I decided when I was younger than I am now. So, to prove the point, I will faithfully reproduce and comment on an ancient script, lovingly archived from Thursday, July 23 2009:
❤ Hot Gurl, let me tell you...
❤ Tall (taller than me at least) I go up a little past his shoulder. Aww.
❤ Wisecracker Yup.
❤ Not a dumbass (yet he should have just a bit of stupidity about him...) I think that describes him perfectly. The bb.
❤ Popular ★ (yet not a ladies' man) Exactly right.
❤ Somewhat athletic He works out a lot and once I saw him with his shirt off and fjkefjhfjh oh my.
❤ Somewhat musical He sings like a mountain stream and his guitar playing is lovely too.
❤ SDA Okay, no, he's Catholic. But you know.
❤ Nice (he shouldn't be all mushy, just not a total meanie either) Well, he's only a little mushy.
❤ Not be afraid to show his soft side (Not that he ever should! Not a girly man!) Okay, well, he's a bit of a girly man. Like, he spends more time on his hair than I do. And he takes care not to chip his nails. And he has a whole bathroom of products I don't even know. But I mean.
❤ Loyal to his homies (and of course me!) He and his bros are tighter than bananas.
❤ Not a horrible dresser He dresses like Dean Winchester in prep school and it makes my heart sing like a wind in a tree every time I see him.
❤ Likes me the way I are He tells me often that I'm "perfect" and "an inspiration to him."
❤ Confident (not cocky though...) Well, he's not some kind of Damon Wildeve or anything, but he has enough confidence to make him quite attractive.
❤ Not completely unromantic (but not the sort of guy who would keep you up all night caterwauling at your window) jdkhljfhlesrjd
❤ Doesn't give me a bad feeling (He doesn't make me want to get away!) Quite the opposite.
❤ Not interested in doing it If he was, he wouldn't tell me unless I was.
❤ Actually reads stuff (he doesn't have to pore over heavy tomes of War And Peace or The Day Mikhail Piolwska Tragically Died, but he should at least know the alphabet!) Well, I mean, he's not me, but he reads some stuff, and he writes down all the stuff I say I like, so his book list is full of stuff like The Brothers Karamazov and Atlas Shrugged and poetry.
❤ Not selfish He's such a sweetie, really. ♥
❤ Kind of like me We're alike in some ways, but different in others.
❤ Kind of unlike me Oh, there we go.
❤ Likes music (very important!) Shore does.
❤ Doesn't cuss me out Wtf kind of boyfriend did I think I was going to get anyway? Of course he doesn't!
❤ Likes to talk a lot He does. Other times we can sit in nice happy silence.
❤ Doesn't text or call every five minutes (read: not possessive) Hmm, well, he does text me a lot, but that's only because I want to talk to him. If I don't reply, he won't belabor it.
❤ A badass! (but he should be totally nice in his heart! *sigh*) I have a hard time picturing him as a badass, but I suppose he is good at League, so maybe that counts for something.
❤ Doesn't have horrible skin He uses toner, and his skin is almost as clear as mine.
❤ Smart He got 100% on the AP Chem final, so I mean.
❤ Independent Free as an eagle in the sky. But like still attached to his family and all.
❤ Not interested in mean whacked out conspiracy theories (but he should think all the rest are funny) Oh my goodness, these criteria, I don't know... But yes, as a matter of fact, he thinks the more ridiculous conspiracies are vastly amusing.
❤ Interesting I think so.
❤ Someone I can spill my guts to (i.e a true friend. Swoon!) I can. And I do. Sorry, Austin.
❤ Not fat I'm tellin ya he got the body!
❤ Polite/respectful (but I ain't takin' no dick on a stick either! Ya hear?) Always (to me at least) (not to his silly and mannish friends, but they're all guys and are rude to each other, so that's okay)
❤ Doesn't have a name like Ethelbert or Lars Come on now.
❤ Doesn't have glasses Well, he does, but he wears contacts because he thinks his glasses make him look like a nerd. Just so you know, he still looks hot in them. But whatever.
❤ Mixed race (like meeeeeee!) No, sorry! But he does speak Tagalog. Unf.
❤ Likes animals He is a dog whisperer, apparently.
KYAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
So, yes, that's my love story. He really is quite a catch. I JUST WISH I COULD BE SURE HE REALLY LIKED ME! I think I'll text Chris (Kitty's potential beau). He and Austin are good friends, and maybe I can get all the scoop. You know, I really like Chris. He's so relaxing. A lot of the time, I can't be sure if a guy wants to talk to me or to "talk" to me, but with him, it's clear– we're just friendly friends, because he's in love with Kitty, and it's just the best thing. It's like Daisy and Nick or Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood, or like, I dunno, something, but I mean, you don't even know. Anyway, I think I'll ask him what Austin was like when he was dating Jenna or Marie or Alexa, because then I can get a good answer (I can't ask Jenna because she doesn't like me, and I can't ask the other two, because I don't know them well, although that would be better). Yeah, that's what I'll do! Good on you, Jasmine. You got a head on your shoulders all right.
Why am I so thirsty? I keep drinking water, and it doesn't do anything. Maybe I have diptheria. I probably caught it when I was wandering around in the different labs today between classes. The science buildings have nice bathrooms, see, and they're very interesting, and I wanted to look around. I went in the basement of the chemistry building, and it looked very dangerous indeed. I felt like the coolest of the cool down there and remembered fondly my own chemistry days. Then I went to the math building and went to my Logic and Formal Reasoning class and remembered fondly my calculus days, and it was just fun all around.
Oh yeah! Linguistics 2001, i.e Logic and Formal Reasoning, is so interesting! I really like it. There are a lot of people who are taking it to avoid taking the math GE, so I don't know if that's a good sign or not, but there is one other linguistics major in there, and the syllabus looks amazingly cool. There are 17 of us in there, but only three of us are freshmen. The other two are cute guys, yay. There are actually a lot of cute guys here. My opera class is full of them. Very aesthetic, I do appreciate it. These sentences are so short, what am I doing? I need to get some better syntax here or I will be up the creek without so much as a semicolon to keep me company in my paddle-less state.
Maybe teh colleeg will help with that.
Tomorrow I get to sleep in late, and I'm happy about that, but I should probably get to bed anyway. My poor roommate is trying to sleep, and I feel like someday she will get fed up with my antics and I will be alone in the world once again. So, off I go. Goodnight now!
More sad
I'm so hungry and miserable and cranky and I miss Austin and I want to go home and why is the world such a cruel place ugh
I sound like such a brat, what's wrong with me?
No, okay, you know what, I have a lot of stuff to worry about, okay? Like, you know, I have a license to complain, and you bet your butt I'm going to, especially on here, since no one will ever know and all will be secretive and well. I'm so hungry! Why am I so hungry? I have no self control. I had coffee this morning before I went to class, and then when I came back to my dorm, I thought it might make it easier to walk around and open doors and things if I had sugar, so I had that little packet of cookies they gave me at one of those horrific orientations (there were like ten little coin-sized pieces in there though, wtf man, is this marketing or something?) and now I'm hungry again! It's 7:30, so it's about dinner time, but there are a lot of people outside, and anyway it's raining (which is really wonderful and amazing, actually), so I feel like I would look even more ridiculous, traipsing along like a poor little orphan waif all by myself. I had a meeting with my mentor group, and they gave me these two cookies, and I can't stop staring at them. Ugh, I really do have no self control. If I don't eat them tonight, I won't have to buy food tomorrow, and it will be a real money saver. What's wrong with me anyway? I know my meal schedule is really unhealthy, but usually I should be able to handle it! I wish food weren't so expensive. I'm determined not to cost my poor mom any more money than she's already spent on me, but I didn't bring much cash with me, and my bank doesn't have a branch here, so once the money I have with me runs out, I'll be stuck. I have a meal plan, but it's really confusing, and I think I can only use it once per day. Or does it tap into the 150 dollars I have on my Buck ID (such a punny name)? If so, that's pretty bad news for me, because I've been using it to buy stuff at Starbucks. I think they're different, though. I want to cancel my meal plan, actually, because I can't bring myself to go to the cafeterias, and it'll be wasted if I don't. What is the matter with me? I can't, just absolutely, flat-out can't eat in public by myself; I can only drink stuff (hence my liquid diet). So I can go to the market and buy prepared foods, but they're really expensive, and if I did that often, I would only be able to eat like every other day or something. Why do humans need food? This is terrible. The fabled freshman fifteen is such a lie. I haven't weighed myself since I've been here, but I feel like I've lost like five pounds just from this unhealthy life I've been leading. I want to be able to have a normal life though! I can't live like this forever, can I? I went to dinner with my roommate and the girls across the hall yesterday (and it was ruinously expensive, let me tell you). Maybe I can do it again. No, they left. Man! I'm going to live my life with no friends and I'll be lonely forever and die of sadness at age 30 and never get to be rich and happy! And all because I was a loser in college! Well, I mean, all my life, really, but now is where it is the most visibly acute. Oh no, what if I pass out or something? I don't think I will, though. I feel so dizzy and weak all the time though, it's really distracting. I wonder if it will interfere with my classes.
Oh hang on. My roommate's out, so if I went and got takeout something, I could come back here and eat it alone and no one would be the wiser! Okeydokey! Let's do this! Go Jasmine go!
I sound like such a brat, what's wrong with me?
No, okay, you know what, I have a lot of stuff to worry about, okay? Like, you know, I have a license to complain, and you bet your butt I'm going to, especially on here, since no one will ever know and all will be secretive and well. I'm so hungry! Why am I so hungry? I have no self control. I had coffee this morning before I went to class, and then when I came back to my dorm, I thought it might make it easier to walk around and open doors and things if I had sugar, so I had that little packet of cookies they gave me at one of those horrific orientations (there were like ten little coin-sized pieces in there though, wtf man, is this marketing or something?) and now I'm hungry again! It's 7:30, so it's about dinner time, but there are a lot of people outside, and anyway it's raining (which is really wonderful and amazing, actually), so I feel like I would look even more ridiculous, traipsing along like a poor little orphan waif all by myself. I had a meeting with my mentor group, and they gave me these two cookies, and I can't stop staring at them. Ugh, I really do have no self control. If I don't eat them tonight, I won't have to buy food tomorrow, and it will be a real money saver. What's wrong with me anyway? I know my meal schedule is really unhealthy, but usually I should be able to handle it! I wish food weren't so expensive. I'm determined not to cost my poor mom any more money than she's already spent on me, but I didn't bring much cash with me, and my bank doesn't have a branch here, so once the money I have with me runs out, I'll be stuck. I have a meal plan, but it's really confusing, and I think I can only use it once per day. Or does it tap into the 150 dollars I have on my Buck ID (such a punny name)? If so, that's pretty bad news for me, because I've been using it to buy stuff at Starbucks. I think they're different, though. I want to cancel my meal plan, actually, because I can't bring myself to go to the cafeterias, and it'll be wasted if I don't. What is the matter with me? I can't, just absolutely, flat-out can't eat in public by myself; I can only drink stuff (hence my liquid diet). So I can go to the market and buy prepared foods, but they're really expensive, and if I did that often, I would only be able to eat like every other day or something. Why do humans need food? This is terrible. The fabled freshman fifteen is such a lie. I haven't weighed myself since I've been here, but I feel like I've lost like five pounds just from this unhealthy life I've been leading. I want to be able to have a normal life though! I can't live like this forever, can I? I went to dinner with my roommate and the girls across the hall yesterday (and it was ruinously expensive, let me tell you). Maybe I can do it again. No, they left. Man! I'm going to live my life with no friends and I'll be lonely forever and die of sadness at age 30 and never get to be rich and happy! And all because I was a loser in college! Well, I mean, all my life, really, but now is where it is the most visibly acute. Oh no, what if I pass out or something? I don't think I will, though. I feel so dizzy and weak all the time though, it's really distracting. I wonder if it will interfere with my classes.
Oh hang on. My roommate's out, so if I went and got takeout something, I could come back here and eat it alone and no one would be the wiser! Okeydokey! Let's do this! Go Jasmine go!
Intermedio
That was a really clever title, okay. I'm proud.
It's 11:48, and my next class is at 12:40, and I have no idea what I'm going to do for all this time in the interim of classlessness. Well, actually, in about 20 minutes I should start walking over so I won't be late as I was this morning. No, well, okay, I was technically five minutes early, but the professor had started already, and most of my classmates were already sitting in the room quietly and meekly reading the syllabus to themselves, so I felt really awkward marching in with my sunglasses and Starbucks (my breakfast) and making myself at home. But I did it. And it looks like a wonderful class, really. The music department is collaborating with the city's theater to put on Madama Butterfly, and the teacher wants us all to go see it. We also get to pick either Tosca or Eugene Onegin or The Nose, and I'm really excited. I think I might pick Eugene Onegin, since I would already be seeing a Puccini, but I don't know, man, I just don't know! I've never heard much Shostakovich either, and that might be fun to see! Tickets are like thirty bucks though. I can't afford to see them all. Actually, I can barely afford to see one. Why am I so poor? There was this one guy who sat across from me who looked like he thought he knew everything, replete with hipster glasses, neck beard, and abstinence from note-taking, and he looked at me with that pitying look that people do when they think that they are smarter than you and they wonder how you managed to get into the class. So, anyway, whenever the teacher would ask us if we knew about something in the background of the lesson, such as humanism or Arcadian literature, or Renaissance politics, or whatever, he would raise his hand, looking superior, and calmly and sweetly, so would I. Eventually he started to look like his world had been turned upside. It was very funny. So, I suppose the moral lesson of the day here is to not judge people whom you deem to be incompetent, even if they do have big obnoxious sunglasses and pink Hello Kitty stationery.
Oh, yes. We learned about intermedios, which are allegorical scenes between acts of plays, and the precursors to opera. I don't know if this post is an allegory or not, but it certainly is a break in the tragedy and drama of my day!
I have English next, and I'm so excited! I want to learn everything, man! I hope we don't need the book, though. I haven't bought it yet, because I wasn't sure if we needed it, and I didn't want to waste money. I guess I'll see. Maybe I can share with someone and become his new best friend. Wouldn't that be darling, now. We could walk around campus together, laughing at everyone, and telling lame jokes, and going to eat everywhere because we would feel no shame, and the world would explode into harmony and trilling sweetness and the clear tones of bells and beautiful poetic diction (I'm getting a foot up on it already). But maybe we won't need the book at all and then my plans would be ruined. Ah well. Maybe someday my prince will come and we can rule the Castile and Aragon of the heart together. Oh my goodness, that's such a good pick-up line. I should tell it to Austin next time he tries one on me.
You know, I'm actually a little worried about this all now. I'm looking forward to my classes, but what if I don't meet anyone I like, and I'm alone like I am now forever? I don't want to be alone! I want to find Hank and Francisco and Ellis Wyatt and Rangnar Danneskjöld and be a Dagny among compatriots! I don't want to find John Galt, though. No thanks. But yeah! What if I don't make friends with anyone and I have to go through my life with only the pale memories of friends I once had? I could maybe write an opera about it, but I don't think it would be very beneficial to my health and well-being overall. Actually, no, that's a really good idea. So, I think I'll make a reality TV show about my sad, lonely, life at college, and then people can laugh at my misery and give me good ratings, and I'll at least be able to afford tickets to the opera, even if I have to go there alone. It will be called Jasmine and No Friends, and it will be great. Will people get that, though? I mean, it's meant to be like Barney and Friends, but maybe it will be too opaque. But anyway, I think I have something here.
Okay, time for me to leave for English. Yay!
It's 11:48, and my next class is at 12:40, and I have no idea what I'm going to do for all this time in the interim of classlessness. Well, actually, in about 20 minutes I should start walking over so I won't be late as I was this morning. No, well, okay, I was technically five minutes early, but the professor had started already, and most of my classmates were already sitting in the room quietly and meekly reading the syllabus to themselves, so I felt really awkward marching in with my sunglasses and Starbucks (my breakfast) and making myself at home. But I did it. And it looks like a wonderful class, really. The music department is collaborating with the city's theater to put on Madama Butterfly, and the teacher wants us all to go see it. We also get to pick either Tosca or Eugene Onegin or The Nose, and I'm really excited. I think I might pick Eugene Onegin, since I would already be seeing a Puccini, but I don't know, man, I just don't know! I've never heard much Shostakovich either, and that might be fun to see! Tickets are like thirty bucks though. I can't afford to see them all. Actually, I can barely afford to see one. Why am I so poor? There was this one guy who sat across from me who looked like he thought he knew everything, replete with hipster glasses, neck beard, and abstinence from note-taking, and he looked at me with that pitying look that people do when they think that they are smarter than you and they wonder how you managed to get into the class. So, anyway, whenever the teacher would ask us if we knew about something in the background of the lesson, such as humanism or Arcadian literature, or Renaissance politics, or whatever, he would raise his hand, looking superior, and calmly and sweetly, so would I. Eventually he started to look like his world had been turned upside. It was very funny. So, I suppose the moral lesson of the day here is to not judge people whom you deem to be incompetent, even if they do have big obnoxious sunglasses and pink Hello Kitty stationery.
Oh, yes. We learned about intermedios, which are allegorical scenes between acts of plays, and the precursors to opera. I don't know if this post is an allegory or not, but it certainly is a break in the tragedy and drama of my day!
I have English next, and I'm so excited! I want to learn everything, man! I hope we don't need the book, though. I haven't bought it yet, because I wasn't sure if we needed it, and I didn't want to waste money. I guess I'll see. Maybe I can share with someone and become his new best friend. Wouldn't that be darling, now. We could walk around campus together, laughing at everyone, and telling lame jokes, and going to eat everywhere because we would feel no shame, and the world would explode into harmony and trilling sweetness and the clear tones of bells and beautiful poetic diction (I'm getting a foot up on it already). But maybe we won't need the book at all and then my plans would be ruined. Ah well. Maybe someday my prince will come and we can rule the Castile and Aragon of the heart together. Oh my goodness, that's such a good pick-up line. I should tell it to Austin next time he tries one on me.
You know, I'm actually a little worried about this all now. I'm looking forward to my classes, but what if I don't meet anyone I like, and I'm alone like I am now forever? I don't want to be alone! I want to find Hank and Francisco and Ellis Wyatt and Rangnar Danneskjöld and be a Dagny among compatriots! I don't want to find John Galt, though. No thanks. But yeah! What if I don't make friends with anyone and I have to go through my life with only the pale memories of friends I once had? I could maybe write an opera about it, but I don't think it would be very beneficial to my health and well-being overall. Actually, no, that's a really good idea. So, I think I'll make a reality TV show about my sad, lonely, life at college, and then people can laugh at my misery and give me good ratings, and I'll at least be able to afford tickets to the opera, even if I have to go there alone. It will be called Jasmine and No Friends, and it will be great. Will people get that, though? I mean, it's meant to be like Barney and Friends, but maybe it will be too opaque. But anyway, I think I have something here.
Okay, time for me to leave for English. Yay!
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Date me
Here I am again! I'm going to tell you about my lovely Austin, since there is a mole of people outside my room and I'm stuck in here for the present.
I also need to cheer myself up.
So! This summer, as you very well know, I had five guys to whom I was talking, although really, it should be four, since although Francisco may not be out of the running, he has a girlfriend, and I'm always careful not to disturb their relationship. But anyway. There was Ethan, and Tim, and Jesse, and Austin. The other three are really annoying, so let's not worry about them. I never thought Austin liked me, even though he was always flirting with me (I think), and I always assume a platonic relationship with everyone until proven otherwise (and sometimes not even then). He talked to me a lot, though, and when I invited him to CKC to help, he came, and kept coming (and he says he'll keep going even though I'm not there anymore, bby). And then I saw that entry of his on tumblr, but I wasn't positive still. Then on the Tuesday before I left, we wanted to meet up and hang out, but I couldn't in the day, because I went to the LACMA with Dad (which was the best thing ever by the way), and when I got back, Allie and Sonia wanted to go to a brewery to eat ice cream, because it was on sale. So we went, and it was fun, but then Allie's weird new friends showed up, and I didn't know them, so I got quiet, and Sonia didn't know them, so she got awkward. They made us go to Red Robin, and I was bored, so I texted Austin to see if he wanted to come over. He showed up fifteen minutes later, and it was quite hilarious to see everyone's reaction to his beauty. We decided to leave and go to Barnes and Noble, because that's my jam, and we thought we'd bring Sonia, since she wasn't happy there either. But then she had to go, and it was just us. But anyway, we wandered around reading stuff until closing time, and then we hung out a little more, but Mom wanted me to go home, so he drove me back (by the way, he was so nice about it, completely opposite of nasty Ethan– did I write about my unhappy date with him?). We got out of his car and talked for a bit, and then he kissed me, and it was such a surprise and I went, "Oh hi there soldier! Wellp, gotta go!" and ran away. But I was happy, and I guess he knew it, because he was happy too. Then the next day, he came to CKC to help, and one of the kids tried to teach him violin, and it was the cutest thing ever, and we talked for awhile more, and he played a song he wrote for me and fjfhjkehkjhfk it was lovely. He gave me a letter that he wrote too, and it was the sweetest love letter I've ever read, and I died (metaphorically speaking). So then, the next day, which was the day before I left, he came over in the evening, and we went to Red Robin, and ate about a million calories. It was so fun! I was barely uncomfortable eating in front of him! Now that's sayin something. But he got the receipt and said he would keep it to remember, and I was sure he couldn't mean what I thought he might mean, so I said, "Yeee that's smart, I always keep track of my expenditures too!"But I guess he did mean what I thought after all. So we went back to my house, and we sat in the back of his car in the romantic early evening light, and he played and sang for me and then we talked about random stuff and I've never been so happy with any guy before (except Francisco, but he doesn't count, obviously). Then Sonia came over to say goodbye to me, and she stayed for a couple hours, and we all talked about stuff. Finally, her parents came to get her, and she had to go, so Austin and I were alone again. I kept meaning to go in and pack, but I didn't want to leave, so I stayed out there until about 10:00, and only went in when Mom came home from work and saw him kissing me (I'm so glad it wasn't Dad though). So I finished packing, and got up early the next morning to go to school with Kitty and say goodbye to her, and when I came back, he was waiting for me at my house to say goodbye. Dad said he was "positively underfoot," but I didn't think he was. I cried so much when I left, ugh, let's not dwell on that. Anyway! So he's been texting me and skyping and everything, and I miss him so much and phooey on earth, I even dream about him. I really don't want to have it bad for him, you know? I don't want to fall in love! It only ends in ruin for everyone! But I don't know how to stop myself.
Oh, he wants to skype before my roommate comes back for dinner. Sounds good to me!
All right, so it's late, but I'm nervous about my classes tomorrow, and I can't sleep, so I'm going to write some more. Now, let me see, where was I? Oh right. So, I really don't want to fall in love, because I feel like it will just lead to problems. I think I'm going to be made a fool of, one way or another, and that's something my extraordinary hubris hates (that was nice personification, wasn't it?). I'm so afraid he'll turn out to have been playing an elaborate joke on me, and sharing it with all his friends, and they're all laughing up their sleeves together even now. Because, let's be real here, why would someone as lovely as he like me? Of course, the obvious answer is that he wants to get into my pants, and yes, that's another matter on which I'm concerned. No one likes me for me; they like me for my pretty face and my 20 inch waist and my double D cup size. I know that sounds really vain and horrible, and I'm ashamed to write it even now, but then again, if everyone and their uncle Ted is encouraged to proclaim their beauty to the world, why should I not be allowed to as well? Anyway, so even if Austin isn't playing some kind of middle-school-type prank, he's probably too focused on what I look like to be interested in who I am at all. That's how it always is, and it's never going to change until I get uglier, and then maybe people will listen to what I have to say. Really, I can talk about literally anything, and the universal response (from guys anyway) will be along the lines of, "that's cute sweetheart, but let me see your tits." (I never let them, of course) I guess I'm exaggerating a little, because guys whom I'm just friends with will usually think of me as a person, but I was talking about guys in the romantic sense, and those are two different things, and don't you forget it! I simply can't believe anyone would like me romantically in a purely respectful way, and no matter what Austin says, there's always a little doubt in the back of my mind that he means it. Oh, don't go thinking that I bring this sort of thing up to him, though! I would never do something so rude or whiny. This blog is my feelings dump, remember. It's so frustrating, too! I want to believe that he's different from the others, but I can't bring myself to do it, so whenever he says anything cute (which is fairly often), I try to say something noncommittal so that I won't look stupid later. But I can't stop my silly heart from bouncing around each time either! You see the problem here? Loving someone makes you weak, and I can't stand to be weak, but then there's a part of me that does want to give in to sentiment! Of course, though, as soon as he starts school, I'm pretty sure he'll find another, prettier, more suitable, girl and he'll forget me entirely. He is incredibly attractive, of course, and there'll be no end of people lining up to date him, and that'll be the end of that. So I guess I won't have to worry long, and I can be free to hit on everyone on campus with reckless abandon. But, see, I don't want to do that! I just want him! Oh man. That was the worst thing to say. I'm really getting it bad. This is the first time I've acted so atrociously, isn't it? I've never liked the guys I've dated even half as much. I feel like such a silly person. Why is this happening to me? Why couldn't I live my life in cold romantic detachment, as I had been doing? Maybe if I concentrate, I can stop this whole train wreck in its tracks (ayyy), and save my dignity.
Oh, he just texted me! What did he say? Here we go:
I'm guessing you went to sleep :P Well, yeah, the thing I was afraid to tell you was that I like telling everyone that you're my girlfriend. LOL. Ehh. Fireworks are going off, and I really wish you were my girlfriend right now. I miss you so much. :( Good night sleep tight don't let the bedbugs bite!
And silly me, when I read that, my first thought was, "But I want to be your girlfriend!" And then the other part of my mind took over and I realized my mistake. I'm so stupid (and that's something I thought I would never say again). I can't believe I'm having all these emotional problems.
I don't know, man! I don't want to trust in love, but he makes me so happy! And when he breaks it off in the fall when he starts school, what if I have a round of sadness and get distracted from my studies? I don't know what to do. Should I stay or should I go? I could manufacture a fight with him, and then I wouldn't have to put myself through the imminent shame coming my way, but I don't want to lose him, and anyway, I don't know if he would fight with me. I can be a complete jerk, and he texts back with the sweetest things and then I feel like an asshole and I have to remind myself that he's probably laughing at me behind my back with his buddies. But what if he's not? I would be almost as happy as I was in AP Lit if we could have a real relationship (and were closer, but you know). No, no, I can't be so gullible. Why should I fall for the oldest trick in the romantic manual? I have to be mature. I'm not some giggling schoolgirl anymore (actually, I suppose I technically am, oops), and I have to be ready to make my own way in the world. Even if that means forsaking romance forever.
Now, I don't want to be one of those horrible people who focuses on one thing only, and that thing is uninteresting to the world at large, but I'll probably revisit this theme in the future. It's so complicated, and there's so much more I want to say (that's another problem, I want to talk about him all the time, but I hate it when people do that, so I never ever bring him up), but it's late, and maybe I can sleep if I try, so I'll try to go to bed now. Goodnight!
I also need to cheer myself up.
So! This summer, as you very well know, I had five guys to whom I was talking, although really, it should be four, since although Francisco may not be out of the running, he has a girlfriend, and I'm always careful not to disturb their relationship. But anyway. There was Ethan, and Tim, and Jesse, and Austin. The other three are really annoying, so let's not worry about them. I never thought Austin liked me, even though he was always flirting with me (I think), and I always assume a platonic relationship with everyone until proven otherwise (and sometimes not even then). He talked to me a lot, though, and when I invited him to CKC to help, he came, and kept coming (and he says he'll keep going even though I'm not there anymore, bby). And then I saw that entry of his on tumblr, but I wasn't positive still. Then on the Tuesday before I left, we wanted to meet up and hang out, but I couldn't in the day, because I went to the LACMA with Dad (which was the best thing ever by the way), and when I got back, Allie and Sonia wanted to go to a brewery to eat ice cream, because it was on sale. So we went, and it was fun, but then Allie's weird new friends showed up, and I didn't know them, so I got quiet, and Sonia didn't know them, so she got awkward. They made us go to Red Robin, and I was bored, so I texted Austin to see if he wanted to come over. He showed up fifteen minutes later, and it was quite hilarious to see everyone's reaction to his beauty. We decided to leave and go to Barnes and Noble, because that's my jam, and we thought we'd bring Sonia, since she wasn't happy there either. But then she had to go, and it was just us. But anyway, we wandered around reading stuff until closing time, and then we hung out a little more, but Mom wanted me to go home, so he drove me back (by the way, he was so nice about it, completely opposite of nasty Ethan– did I write about my unhappy date with him?). We got out of his car and talked for a bit, and then he kissed me, and it was such a surprise and I went, "Oh hi there soldier! Wellp, gotta go!" and ran away. But I was happy, and I guess he knew it, because he was happy too. Then the next day, he came to CKC to help, and one of the kids tried to teach him violin, and it was the cutest thing ever, and we talked for awhile more, and he played a song he wrote for me and fjfhjkehkjhfk it was lovely. He gave me a letter that he wrote too, and it was the sweetest love letter I've ever read, and I died (metaphorically speaking). So then, the next day, which was the day before I left, he came over in the evening, and we went to Red Robin, and ate about a million calories. It was so fun! I was barely uncomfortable eating in front of him! Now that's sayin something. But he got the receipt and said he would keep it to remember, and I was sure he couldn't mean what I thought he might mean, so I said, "Yeee that's smart, I always keep track of my expenditures too!"But I guess he did mean what I thought after all. So we went back to my house, and we sat in the back of his car in the romantic early evening light, and he played and sang for me and then we talked about random stuff and I've never been so happy with any guy before (except Francisco, but he doesn't count, obviously). Then Sonia came over to say goodbye to me, and she stayed for a couple hours, and we all talked about stuff. Finally, her parents came to get her, and she had to go, so Austin and I were alone again. I kept meaning to go in and pack, but I didn't want to leave, so I stayed out there until about 10:00, and only went in when Mom came home from work and saw him kissing me (I'm so glad it wasn't Dad though). So I finished packing, and got up early the next morning to go to school with Kitty and say goodbye to her, and when I came back, he was waiting for me at my house to say goodbye. Dad said he was "positively underfoot," but I didn't think he was. I cried so much when I left, ugh, let's not dwell on that. Anyway! So he's been texting me and skyping and everything, and I miss him so much and phooey on earth, I even dream about him. I really don't want to have it bad for him, you know? I don't want to fall in love! It only ends in ruin for everyone! But I don't know how to stop myself.
Oh, he wants to skype before my roommate comes back for dinner. Sounds good to me!
All right, so it's late, but I'm nervous about my classes tomorrow, and I can't sleep, so I'm going to write some more. Now, let me see, where was I? Oh right. So, I really don't want to fall in love, because I feel like it will just lead to problems. I think I'm going to be made a fool of, one way or another, and that's something my extraordinary hubris hates (that was nice personification, wasn't it?). I'm so afraid he'll turn out to have been playing an elaborate joke on me, and sharing it with all his friends, and they're all laughing up their sleeves together even now. Because, let's be real here, why would someone as lovely as he like me? Of course, the obvious answer is that he wants to get into my pants, and yes, that's another matter on which I'm concerned. No one likes me for me; they like me for my pretty face and my 20 inch waist and my double D cup size. I know that sounds really vain and horrible, and I'm ashamed to write it even now, but then again, if everyone and their uncle Ted is encouraged to proclaim their beauty to the world, why should I not be allowed to as well? Anyway, so even if Austin isn't playing some kind of middle-school-type prank, he's probably too focused on what I look like to be interested in who I am at all. That's how it always is, and it's never going to change until I get uglier, and then maybe people will listen to what I have to say. Really, I can talk about literally anything, and the universal response (from guys anyway) will be along the lines of, "that's cute sweetheart, but let me see your tits." (I never let them, of course) I guess I'm exaggerating a little, because guys whom I'm just friends with will usually think of me as a person, but I was talking about guys in the romantic sense, and those are two different things, and don't you forget it! I simply can't believe anyone would like me romantically in a purely respectful way, and no matter what Austin says, there's always a little doubt in the back of my mind that he means it. Oh, don't go thinking that I bring this sort of thing up to him, though! I would never do something so rude or whiny. This blog is my feelings dump, remember. It's so frustrating, too! I want to believe that he's different from the others, but I can't bring myself to do it, so whenever he says anything cute (which is fairly often), I try to say something noncommittal so that I won't look stupid later. But I can't stop my silly heart from bouncing around each time either! You see the problem here? Loving someone makes you weak, and I can't stand to be weak, but then there's a part of me that does want to give in to sentiment! Of course, though, as soon as he starts school, I'm pretty sure he'll find another, prettier, more suitable, girl and he'll forget me entirely. He is incredibly attractive, of course, and there'll be no end of people lining up to date him, and that'll be the end of that. So I guess I won't have to worry long, and I can be free to hit on everyone on campus with reckless abandon. But, see, I don't want to do that! I just want him! Oh man. That was the worst thing to say. I'm really getting it bad. This is the first time I've acted so atrociously, isn't it? I've never liked the guys I've dated even half as much. I feel like such a silly person. Why is this happening to me? Why couldn't I live my life in cold romantic detachment, as I had been doing? Maybe if I concentrate, I can stop this whole train wreck in its tracks (ayyy), and save my dignity.
Oh, he just texted me! What did he say? Here we go:
I'm guessing you went to sleep :P Well, yeah, the thing I was afraid to tell you was that I like telling everyone that you're my girlfriend. LOL. Ehh. Fireworks are going off, and I really wish you were my girlfriend right now. I miss you so much. :( Good night sleep tight don't let the bedbugs bite!
And silly me, when I read that, my first thought was, "But I want to be your girlfriend!" And then the other part of my mind took over and I realized my mistake. I'm so stupid (and that's something I thought I would never say again). I can't believe I'm having all these emotional problems.
I don't know, man! I don't want to trust in love, but he makes me so happy! And when he breaks it off in the fall when he starts school, what if I have a round of sadness and get distracted from my studies? I don't know what to do. Should I stay or should I go? I could manufacture a fight with him, and then I wouldn't have to put myself through the imminent shame coming my way, but I don't want to lose him, and anyway, I don't know if he would fight with me. I can be a complete jerk, and he texts back with the sweetest things and then I feel like an asshole and I have to remind myself that he's probably laughing at me behind my back with his buddies. But what if he's not? I would be almost as happy as I was in AP Lit if we could have a real relationship (and were closer, but you know). No, no, I can't be so gullible. Why should I fall for the oldest trick in the romantic manual? I have to be mature. I'm not some giggling schoolgirl anymore (actually, I suppose I technically am, oops), and I have to be ready to make my own way in the world. Even if that means forsaking romance forever.
Now, I don't want to be one of those horrible people who focuses on one thing only, and that thing is uninteresting to the world at large, but I'll probably revisit this theme in the future. It's so complicated, and there's so much more I want to say (that's another problem, I want to talk about him all the time, but I hate it when people do that, so I never ever bring him up), but it's late, and maybe I can sleep if I try, so I'll try to go to bed now. Goodnight!
Insecurity City
Classes start tomorrow, so today is my free day on campus. It's horrible. I haven't met anyone yet (I mean, I have, but I haven't adopted them as my new best friends yet or anything), and my roommate seems to be of the popular variety, so I'm all by myself. At least I have Austin and Francisco to keep me company (in a way). I just had my audition for choir. I really want to be in the Chorale more than anything else, because it's the university's chamber singers, but it's only open to sophomores and above (just like in high school), so that wasn't an option. My other choice was Symphonic Choir, because it's a mixed classical group and they sing with the orchestra and with the Chorale sometimes, but it didn't fit my schedule. So I had to audition for University Chorus, which is for non-music majors (which I am) and for people who are bad at music (which I'm not). My audition was so horrible! I haven't sung for a long time, because I mean I'm here, and so my voice is all nasty and crackly. That made me nervous, so I missed the fourth on the sightreading, and she made me do it again, and ugh, I've never missed anything on note reading before! She didn't go over rhythm, so I didn't have a chance to redeem myself, and when she did the listening, I missed the augmented fourth she played, and now I feel so ashamed of myself. I've never auditioned so badly for anything, not even when I was a dorky sixth-grader trying out for the high school orchestra. She put me in University Chorus as a first soprano, but I mean, how hard is it to get in there? Somehow I don't think it's very hard. I guess I'm glad to sing the part I'm used to, but she didn't really check my range, and I feel like she just put me there because I sound like Pikachu when I talk. I have a three-and-a-half octave range! Why does no one appreciate this fact? I feel like such a loser now, ugh. I might join the orchestra instead, although Symphony Orchestra doesn't fit my schedule, so I have to be in one of the non-audition groups, which, of course, won't be very good. So, is it better to be in a mediocre choir or a bad orchestra? I want to play violin here, but I don't want to be stuck playing Star Wars medleys and bowdlerized versions of Aaron Copeland pieces. Do you see my dilemma? Maybe I should be in the choir and take violin lessons. I've heard the teacher is decent. I wish I had more information about these ensembles! If I were in California, I would know easily, but this is such unknown territory, and there's no way to find out for sure which group is the best. Wait, okay, you know, Symphonic Choir used to fit my schedule, but they changed it, so do you think they could have changed Symphony Orchestra too? Maybe it's in the evenings now, or on Tuesday and Thursday instead of Monday, Wednesday, and Friday! Then I could audition for it, and expand my options (perhaps). The Mozart isn't really polished though. That's a problem. I could use the Raff, but I don't think it's the right choice, somehow. Oh dear, I feel so terrible and so overwhelmed and so flipping hungry, I think I'm going to go mug someone just to make myself feel better. There are plenty of people to pick from here.
Oh yeah! There are 7000 people in my class! I feel like I'm in a subsection of the city or something (I guess I am). We had to go to three orientations yesterday, and I got to fully appreciate the scale of the student body. I didn't appreciate the orientations, though, let me tell you. They were such a waste of time, and they were led by the most cursedly jolly and hearty people, and they made us do the wave, and they didn't tell us anything new. They did give us free lunch, though, which is good. I haven't eaten anything since then. I'm trying to convince myself that I'm not hungry, because I'm so embarrassed to go out and try to find food for myself, but it's been more than a day, and pretty soon, I'm going to have to go for it. I wish I weren't so awkward! Why am I so awkward? I don't have to be scared of anyone (except rapists, of which 85% of people are, apparently, so maybe I should be scared), and no one is better than me, so I should just jump into the world with a big ole hearty grin and a back-slapping, gorge-raising, log-cabin attitude and lots of spunk! It's so hard though. Do you know what it's like to be so afraid of everyone that you walk the other way whenever you see anyone, even if it's out of your way? I hate it. Why can't I be a normal individual? Most people aren't afraid of their fellow humans. You know, though, once I know someone, I'm fine; it's just the getting-to-know-him part that's so difficult. And I don't think people like me here. Although, I think that about everyone, so that might be just my imagination. But no, I think it's true. I try to smile at people and say hello as I pass, since that helps to prevent assaulters from assaulting you (because it's not as anonymous and now you can pick them out of a lineup and so on), but a lot of the time, people just give me a funny look and move on. Now, it could be that they are potential rapists and I have foiled their plan, but I'm more inclined to think they don't like me, and that makes it hard for me to want to approach anyone in a way that's not safety oriented. So I've been hiding in my dorm room a lot and talking to Austin and Francisco and Sonia and other people from back home and trying to stay out of the way of the world. It's bad, but I'm too afraid to do anything else. Why am I so pathetic? Oh my goodness. I need to do something. Maybe I should take to drink.
That's a sad block of text right there, yes it is. If anyone read it, he would try to put me in counseling or something. Actually, they do offer free counseling here. Maybe I should go. What do I say though? It's not like I have anxiety or depression or anything that would give me a reasonable reason to be there. Nah trick, I ain't goin to no counseling! I've driven off four psychologists before and I've no faith in the business whatsoever (at least as it applies to me). Oh my goodness, I'm so hungry! I shouldn't be, though. I had coffee this morning. Maybe I can wait until tomorrow when classes start and there will be general chaos and people won't judge me as much. I hope I don't faint or anything. That would be really embarrassing. Oh no, my metabolism is going to get all slow! When I was into starving myself before, it got so I couldn't digest anything, and I actually gained weight instead of losing it, and it was terrible. Nowadays, my metabolism is fast again, and I eat like a longshoreman and still weigh 98 pounds, but with this silliness of mine, I'm going to become unhealthy again! I am going to cry. No, wait, I actually might. What on earth am I going to do?
Oh goodness. I had to go to the bathroom, so I went out in the hall (the bathroom is a communal one, which fact I abhor), and there are about a million people out there! I got in okay, but then when I came out, there was a huge group of tall, scary, people around my door. So I tried to be unobtrusive, but they saw me, and I guess someone must have said something, but they all got quiet and were staring at me, and I was so scared, I couldn't do anything but give them all a nasty look and disappear inside my room. Then they all started laughing at my social ineptitude and going, "Ouch! Burn!" and stuff, and I'm going to live the rest of my life in here and never see the light of day again. I feel like crying oh my goodness, I hate the world. Why am I such a freak?
You know, I absolutely hate the general school of thought that pretty people have no problems in their lives. No, friends, that's wrong! Pretty people have more! If you look good, you're always going to stand out, so you can never disappear quietly into the background, especially if you hold yourself with confidence, which I do (but don't possess), and dress nicely (which I also do). So if you have to walk past a giant string of people, and you're afraid, you have to be 100 times more afraid, because they're going to notice you, and maybe say something, and maybe rape you, and if they do, everyone will say it's your fault because pretty people are always asking for it, right? And if you're pretty, no one will want to talk to you, either because they think you're stupid and stuck-up, or because they're of the mentality that everyone pretty belongs to "the man" and should be shunned with all the strength of their average-looking superiors (this is a very popular school of thought on tumblr and among most people my age). And if you're too shy to approach people to talk to them, you can only hope that people will talk to you, and no one will do that if you're pretty. They assume that you are popular already, and they don't have to bother, so you're stuck without anyone to whom you can turn. And of course, there's this idea that if you're pretty, you live a charmed life automatically, and that's something you can't debunk in a day, so it's just bad all around. Beautiful people are never happy, I'm sure of it. Helen of Troy may have launched a thousand ships, but I bet she never launched many friendships (ayy that was a play on words see what I did there swag). So, to keep your pride and keep from falling apart, you have to put on a snooty demeanor and be exactly the opposite of the person you really are, and it's all so horrible. I'm not complaining about being pretty, mind you, I'm complaining about its consequences, and there's a difference, but I'm sure this all makes me seem shallow and like a terrible person. There's such a double standard here– pretty people or people who are exceptional in any way are never allowed to be unhappy with how they look, or they're vapid and vain, but normal people can complain all they want about everything and it's fine. I feel like I'm in Atlas Shrugged or something.
I'm a horrible person. This is why no one likes me.
I need to take my mind off things. Let me tell you about Austin so I can distract myself. I'm sure you'd be glad to know about him too. But I'm going to put him in another entry so that this one can be purely emo mush. Otay? Otay.
Oh yeah! There are 7000 people in my class! I feel like I'm in a subsection of the city or something (I guess I am). We had to go to three orientations yesterday, and I got to fully appreciate the scale of the student body. I didn't appreciate the orientations, though, let me tell you. They were such a waste of time, and they were led by the most cursedly jolly and hearty people, and they made us do the wave, and they didn't tell us anything new. They did give us free lunch, though, which is good. I haven't eaten anything since then. I'm trying to convince myself that I'm not hungry, because I'm so embarrassed to go out and try to find food for myself, but it's been more than a day, and pretty soon, I'm going to have to go for it. I wish I weren't so awkward! Why am I so awkward? I don't have to be scared of anyone (except rapists, of which 85% of people are, apparently, so maybe I should be scared), and no one is better than me, so I should just jump into the world with a big ole hearty grin and a back-slapping, gorge-raising, log-cabin attitude and lots of spunk! It's so hard though. Do you know what it's like to be so afraid of everyone that you walk the other way whenever you see anyone, even if it's out of your way? I hate it. Why can't I be a normal individual? Most people aren't afraid of their fellow humans. You know, though, once I know someone, I'm fine; it's just the getting-to-know-him part that's so difficult. And I don't think people like me here. Although, I think that about everyone, so that might be just my imagination. But no, I think it's true. I try to smile at people and say hello as I pass, since that helps to prevent assaulters from assaulting you (because it's not as anonymous and now you can pick them out of a lineup and so on), but a lot of the time, people just give me a funny look and move on. Now, it could be that they are potential rapists and I have foiled their plan, but I'm more inclined to think they don't like me, and that makes it hard for me to want to approach anyone in a way that's not safety oriented. So I've been hiding in my dorm room a lot and talking to Austin and Francisco and Sonia and other people from back home and trying to stay out of the way of the world. It's bad, but I'm too afraid to do anything else. Why am I so pathetic? Oh my goodness. I need to do something. Maybe I should take to drink.
That's a sad block of text right there, yes it is. If anyone read it, he would try to put me in counseling or something. Actually, they do offer free counseling here. Maybe I should go. What do I say though? It's not like I have anxiety or depression or anything that would give me a reasonable reason to be there. Nah trick, I ain't goin to no counseling! I've driven off four psychologists before and I've no faith in the business whatsoever (at least as it applies to me). Oh my goodness, I'm so hungry! I shouldn't be, though. I had coffee this morning. Maybe I can wait until tomorrow when classes start and there will be general chaos and people won't judge me as much. I hope I don't faint or anything. That would be really embarrassing. Oh no, my metabolism is going to get all slow! When I was into starving myself before, it got so I couldn't digest anything, and I actually gained weight instead of losing it, and it was terrible. Nowadays, my metabolism is fast again, and I eat like a longshoreman and still weigh 98 pounds, but with this silliness of mine, I'm going to become unhealthy again! I am going to cry. No, wait, I actually might. What on earth am I going to do?
Oh goodness. I had to go to the bathroom, so I went out in the hall (the bathroom is a communal one, which fact I abhor), and there are about a million people out there! I got in okay, but then when I came out, there was a huge group of tall, scary, people around my door. So I tried to be unobtrusive, but they saw me, and I guess someone must have said something, but they all got quiet and were staring at me, and I was so scared, I couldn't do anything but give them all a nasty look and disappear inside my room. Then they all started laughing at my social ineptitude and going, "Ouch! Burn!" and stuff, and I'm going to live the rest of my life in here and never see the light of day again. I feel like crying oh my goodness, I hate the world. Why am I such a freak?
You know, I absolutely hate the general school of thought that pretty people have no problems in their lives. No, friends, that's wrong! Pretty people have more! If you look good, you're always going to stand out, so you can never disappear quietly into the background, especially if you hold yourself with confidence, which I do (but don't possess), and dress nicely (which I also do). So if you have to walk past a giant string of people, and you're afraid, you have to be 100 times more afraid, because they're going to notice you, and maybe say something, and maybe rape you, and if they do, everyone will say it's your fault because pretty people are always asking for it, right? And if you're pretty, no one will want to talk to you, either because they think you're stupid and stuck-up, or because they're of the mentality that everyone pretty belongs to "the man" and should be shunned with all the strength of their average-looking superiors (this is a very popular school of thought on tumblr and among most people my age). And if you're too shy to approach people to talk to them, you can only hope that people will talk to you, and no one will do that if you're pretty. They assume that you are popular already, and they don't have to bother, so you're stuck without anyone to whom you can turn. And of course, there's this idea that if you're pretty, you live a charmed life automatically, and that's something you can't debunk in a day, so it's just bad all around. Beautiful people are never happy, I'm sure of it. Helen of Troy may have launched a thousand ships, but I bet she never launched many friendships (ayy that was a play on words see what I did there swag). So, to keep your pride and keep from falling apart, you have to put on a snooty demeanor and be exactly the opposite of the person you really are, and it's all so horrible. I'm not complaining about being pretty, mind you, I'm complaining about its consequences, and there's a difference, but I'm sure this all makes me seem shallow and like a terrible person. There's such a double standard here– pretty people or people who are exceptional in any way are never allowed to be unhappy with how they look, or they're vapid and vain, but normal people can complain all they want about everything and it's fine. I feel like I'm in Atlas Shrugged or something.
I'm a horrible person. This is why no one likes me.
I need to take my mind off things. Let me tell you about Austin so I can distract myself. I'm sure you'd be glad to know about him too. But I'm going to put him in another entry so that this one can be purely emo mush. Otay? Otay.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Monday, August 12, 2013
College is a'comin
Oh dear, I have to go to college this week.
Well bless me, that's quite a puling thing to say isn't it! Oh no, I have to go get an education and make lasting connections and achieve a dream of 1% of the world's population, what on earth am I going to do? But I don't think you understand. I'm petrified. I just know I'm going to be the Kevin of the campus, or even the Durko, if I'm very unlucky, and there's nothing I'm going to be able to do about it. I'm trying to make myself talk to the other people in my special Honors Group™ and it's really hard! My roommate seems to be quite a chatty soul, so I'm fine with talking to her over Facebook, but I feel like when I meet her in person, it'll be a different story entirely. And she's only one of what, a thousand? I don't want to star in a modern setting of The Glass Menagerie! How in the name of Andrew Jackson's underwear am I going to pull this one off? I fear I've reached a point I cannot pass, and yet I must pass this test, or life will pass me by– kind of like the ship of Theseus of the academic world, actually– and there's no way out but to live! That sounds like quite a fine statement, incidentally. I wonder how I thought it up. Maybe it belongs to a famous poem and I'm merely demonstrating my ignorance here. But that's good I suppose, since I need to be prepared for that when college takes me by the soul. This whole debacle still doesn't seem real! I feel like I could be fourteen years old again, living in fear of starting high school, and without another care in the world. I certainly look like it. Oh shoot, will that pose a problem? Maybe people will discriminate against me because of my youthful looks! Should I pack mature and sophisticated clothes to circumvent my potentially puerile impression? Or maybe I can wear baggy sweatshirts and jeans and poorly-fitting tennis shoes all the livelong day and people won't look at me twice to judge me. Sadly, I don't own any of those items, so that might be a bit of an issue to work around as well. Oh, no, I guess I do own one sweatshirt now. Jackie gave me one on the last day of AP Lit, because it had the Ohio State insignia on it, and she's going to UCR. It's roughly the size of the Appalachian mountains, but it's soft and fuzzy, and it will keep me warm in the obscenely frigid mid-Western temperatures, which, according to my ever-helpful roommate, reach the low twenties by November. And here I was thinking it was practically Dis on earth when it got into the forties this January. Wellp, I guess I won't have to worry about having a chill time; if I can be as cool as everyone there, that would be very ice. No for reals though, what am I going to do? I have one leather jacket from Forever 21, one white fleece coat from the thrift store, several unsubstantial sweaters, and now one Gargantua-sized OSU propaganda garment. This winter won't be fun in any wise, no sirree, I wonder if I'll actually get frostbite and die. Roomie Melissa would get a free 4.0 (at least according to Hollywood), but somehow, I don't feel that altruistic. I mean, she was in the National Honor Society in high school (much like me); I don't think she'll have any trouble keeping up her grades. Should I buy pants? I don't think I want to bother. Strangely enough, they don't keep me as warm as a couple layers of tights do, and I feel so extremely uncomfortable in them that I'd really rather brave the wrath of the Frost King than wear them. By the way, the Frost King was my very favorite fairy tale when I was younger! The girl marries King Frost, and everyone else dies. It's very uplifting and fun, and so Slavic it gives me chills (I've good company in being chilled, I suppose). But where was I? Oh, yes. So, I've never been comfortable in pants for as long as I remember; I was kicked off my soccer team in first grade for refusing to play in anything but a skirt, and the few times I was persuaded to outfit myself in one of the few pairs of pants I owned, I would manufacture spills so I could change out of them. I suppose it might be unwelcome socialization, but I don't think so. Mom wore pants quite a bit, especially around us kids, and I never partook of anything with a message detrimental to feminism in any way, since that was something on which Mom and Dad were very strict. So pretty much, I'd say it's just my preference, and that's where we stand today. And if anyone tries to tell me that I'm the antithesis of progress again, I will personally write to the IRS and ask that his or her income taxes be doubled each year in a lovely exponential spiral of despair. Ooh, I'm so villainous! I should get a big cloak and swirl it threateningly! That might be useful for Ohio, actually. Hmm.
I got a new bag for college when we went to Chinatown on Friday! It's so cute. It has smiling peppers and milk and sunflowers and bunnies and all that sort of thing on it, and its zippers are rainbow-colored, and there are pockets for everything! There are even two water bottle holders, one on each side. Now, tell me that isn't the lap of luxury! I think I'll be able to fit Daisy Bell inside, and it's big enough for all my cute notebooks and Hello Kitty pencil case and pink strawberry folder and decorated graphing calculator (actually no, not that I guess, I'm leaving it for Kitty) and everything I need to look like the requisite Daisy Buchanan of the class, which is, of course, the foremost of everyone's priorities. I can even fit any book I care to bring with me in there and take it along for the ride! And you know what that book will be? Why, A Shropshire Lad, of course! Mom and Kitty bought it for me yesterday, and I love it very much. It's small and light, so even though I promised myself I wouldn't bring any books with me, I'm going to bring it with me. I've wanted it for two years (possibly three), and I'm not giving it up so easily now. I think I have all my school supplies (except my textbooks), so I'm prepared on that front, but do you know, I haven't started packing anything yet. Oh Jasmine, you crazy kook! I hear the voices say. Are you up to your old highjinks again? The voices are quite right. I am. I haven't even gone so far as to take a suitcase out of the garage. I did start making a packing list the other day, but I got distracted by the books in my room and skived off to compare the analyses of Prometheus Unbound in my swap meet book and my Barnes and Noble one. Now there's a very beautifully decorated, but not entirely helpful, half-finished packing list reposing under my pillow along with enough paperwork to practically furnish another library of Alexandria. I've been hoping it will seep into my head whilst I sleep and give me motivation, but so far it hasn't worked. But since I leave early Friday morning, I really need to get started, so tomorrow I'll finish that list for real and start on my packing. Let's go!
I did accomplish one excellent feat today. See, Mom has given me her favorite dress from when she was my age, and it's so beautiful and delicate-looking, and I love it. Unfortunately, it was way too long. So this afternoon, I pulled out the straight pins, and got to work. I had to measure it on Sungmin (who is almost my size now), poor boy, but eventually I got the hem where I wanted it, and I set to work with some white thread, a suspiciously small-eyed needle, and a good deal of energy. It wasn't hard after the sorry saga of my Chamber Singer dress, but it wasn't easy either, and I can assure you with a fair amount of confidence that I will never be a professional seamstress. Frustrations and tangles aside though, it's all done, and it looks perfect (to me anyway). It's a lovely tea-length now, and I'm going to wear it to CKC this week so Austin can see the fruitful work of my hands and respect me as the Dagny Taggart of the land (since she did once fix John Galt's shirt). Oh right! He's been coming to CKC these past few weeks! And every time I see him, we both get less tongue-tied. At this rate, I reckon we'll be having ordinary conversations by Christmastime. He says he wrote a song for me, but he can't find the right time to sing it. I'm very curious about this song, and I can't help wondering if it's any better than Francisco's, which is terribly crass of me of course, but you can't kill curiosity. I also want to hear him sing, because I haven't before, and I'm sure his voice is charming. Just like him, bby.
Well now, I think this ol cowpoke's rambled enough. Time to get back to the ole ranch house and get me some shut-eye! Tomarraw gon' come bright'n'early, and we gotta steer the steers to Alabamy. Goodnight now pardner!
I mean, good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow. Of course.
Well bless me, that's quite a puling thing to say isn't it! Oh no, I have to go get an education and make lasting connections and achieve a dream of 1% of the world's population, what on earth am I going to do? But I don't think you understand. I'm petrified. I just know I'm going to be the Kevin of the campus, or even the Durko, if I'm very unlucky, and there's nothing I'm going to be able to do about it. I'm trying to make myself talk to the other people in my special Honors Group™ and it's really hard! My roommate seems to be quite a chatty soul, so I'm fine with talking to her over Facebook, but I feel like when I meet her in person, it'll be a different story entirely. And she's only one of what, a thousand? I don't want to star in a modern setting of The Glass Menagerie! How in the name of Andrew Jackson's underwear am I going to pull this one off? I fear I've reached a point I cannot pass, and yet I must pass this test, or life will pass me by– kind of like the ship of Theseus of the academic world, actually– and there's no way out but to live! That sounds like quite a fine statement, incidentally. I wonder how I thought it up. Maybe it belongs to a famous poem and I'm merely demonstrating my ignorance here. But that's good I suppose, since I need to be prepared for that when college takes me by the soul. This whole debacle still doesn't seem real! I feel like I could be fourteen years old again, living in fear of starting high school, and without another care in the world. I certainly look like it. Oh shoot, will that pose a problem? Maybe people will discriminate against me because of my youthful looks! Should I pack mature and sophisticated clothes to circumvent my potentially puerile impression? Or maybe I can wear baggy sweatshirts and jeans and poorly-fitting tennis shoes all the livelong day and people won't look at me twice to judge me. Sadly, I don't own any of those items, so that might be a bit of an issue to work around as well. Oh, no, I guess I do own one sweatshirt now. Jackie gave me one on the last day of AP Lit, because it had the Ohio State insignia on it, and she's going to UCR. It's roughly the size of the Appalachian mountains, but it's soft and fuzzy, and it will keep me warm in the obscenely frigid mid-Western temperatures, which, according to my ever-helpful roommate, reach the low twenties by November. And here I was thinking it was practically Dis on earth when it got into the forties this January. Wellp, I guess I won't have to worry about having a chill time; if I can be as cool as everyone there, that would be very ice. No for reals though, what am I going to do? I have one leather jacket from Forever 21, one white fleece coat from the thrift store, several unsubstantial sweaters, and now one Gargantua-sized OSU propaganda garment. This winter won't be fun in any wise, no sirree, I wonder if I'll actually get frostbite and die. Roomie Melissa would get a free 4.0 (at least according to Hollywood), but somehow, I don't feel that altruistic. I mean, she was in the National Honor Society in high school (much like me); I don't think she'll have any trouble keeping up her grades. Should I buy pants? I don't think I want to bother. Strangely enough, they don't keep me as warm as a couple layers of tights do, and I feel so extremely uncomfortable in them that I'd really rather brave the wrath of the Frost King than wear them. By the way, the Frost King was my very favorite fairy tale when I was younger! The girl marries King Frost, and everyone else dies. It's very uplifting and fun, and so Slavic it gives me chills (I've good company in being chilled, I suppose). But where was I? Oh, yes. So, I've never been comfortable in pants for as long as I remember; I was kicked off my soccer team in first grade for refusing to play in anything but a skirt, and the few times I was persuaded to outfit myself in one of the few pairs of pants I owned, I would manufacture spills so I could change out of them. I suppose it might be unwelcome socialization, but I don't think so. Mom wore pants quite a bit, especially around us kids, and I never partook of anything with a message detrimental to feminism in any way, since that was something on which Mom and Dad were very strict. So pretty much, I'd say it's just my preference, and that's where we stand today. And if anyone tries to tell me that I'm the antithesis of progress again, I will personally write to the IRS and ask that his or her income taxes be doubled each year in a lovely exponential spiral of despair. Ooh, I'm so villainous! I should get a big cloak and swirl it threateningly! That might be useful for Ohio, actually. Hmm.
I got a new bag for college when we went to Chinatown on Friday! It's so cute. It has smiling peppers and milk and sunflowers and bunnies and all that sort of thing on it, and its zippers are rainbow-colored, and there are pockets for everything! There are even two water bottle holders, one on each side. Now, tell me that isn't the lap of luxury! I think I'll be able to fit Daisy Bell inside, and it's big enough for all my cute notebooks and Hello Kitty pencil case and pink strawberry folder and decorated graphing calculator (actually no, not that I guess, I'm leaving it for Kitty) and everything I need to look like the requisite Daisy Buchanan of the class, which is, of course, the foremost of everyone's priorities. I can even fit any book I care to bring with me in there and take it along for the ride! And you know what that book will be? Why, A Shropshire Lad, of course! Mom and Kitty bought it for me yesterday, and I love it very much. It's small and light, so even though I promised myself I wouldn't bring any books with me, I'm going to bring it with me. I've wanted it for two years (possibly three), and I'm not giving it up so easily now. I think I have all my school supplies (except my textbooks), so I'm prepared on that front, but do you know, I haven't started packing anything yet. Oh Jasmine, you crazy kook! I hear the voices say. Are you up to your old highjinks again? The voices are quite right. I am. I haven't even gone so far as to take a suitcase out of the garage. I did start making a packing list the other day, but I got distracted by the books in my room and skived off to compare the analyses of Prometheus Unbound in my swap meet book and my Barnes and Noble one. Now there's a very beautifully decorated, but not entirely helpful, half-finished packing list reposing under my pillow along with enough paperwork to practically furnish another library of Alexandria. I've been hoping it will seep into my head whilst I sleep and give me motivation, but so far it hasn't worked. But since I leave early Friday morning, I really need to get started, so tomorrow I'll finish that list for real and start on my packing. Let's go!
I did accomplish one excellent feat today. See, Mom has given me her favorite dress from when she was my age, and it's so beautiful and delicate-looking, and I love it. Unfortunately, it was way too long. So this afternoon, I pulled out the straight pins, and got to work. I had to measure it on Sungmin (who is almost my size now), poor boy, but eventually I got the hem where I wanted it, and I set to work with some white thread, a suspiciously small-eyed needle, and a good deal of energy. It wasn't hard after the sorry saga of my Chamber Singer dress, but it wasn't easy either, and I can assure you with a fair amount of confidence that I will never be a professional seamstress. Frustrations and tangles aside though, it's all done, and it looks perfect (to me anyway). It's a lovely tea-length now, and I'm going to wear it to CKC this week so Austin can see the fruitful work of my hands and respect me as the Dagny Taggart of the land (since she did once fix John Galt's shirt). Oh right! He's been coming to CKC these past few weeks! And every time I see him, we both get less tongue-tied. At this rate, I reckon we'll be having ordinary conversations by Christmastime. He says he wrote a song for me, but he can't find the right time to sing it. I'm very curious about this song, and I can't help wondering if it's any better than Francisco's, which is terribly crass of me of course, but you can't kill curiosity. I also want to hear him sing, because I haven't before, and I'm sure his voice is charming. Just like him, bby.
Well now, I think this ol cowpoke's rambled enough. Time to get back to the ole ranch house and get me some shut-eye! Tomarraw gon' come bright'n'early, and we gotta steer the steers to Alabamy. Goodnight now pardner!
I mean, good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow. Of course.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Concert report (among other things)
I went to Roger's benefit concert today. I mean, I performed in it. Apparently, we raised over a thousand dollars, which I'm not sure is sensible, since it was easily the most atrocious performance I have been to in a long time, but I suppose we should be proud of ourselves. It's not every day that people shell out for such a business as this. It was really fun though! I invited Austin, and he came! He missed my solo, though. Boo, and phooey on him. That's what you get when you're late. I sang dat yung solo a lot better in rehearsal, so some of my jumps were kind of jumpy, but it was mostly fine. A lot of people came up to me to shower me in adulation, so I was happy. The poor girl who sang the alto solo, though, man I didn't know what to tell her. It's kind of like when you get an A, and someone who failed sees your paper. Like, how does one handle such a situation? I've never been sure (and unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on perspective, it happens to me quite often). Dad didn't record me, though! He even had the camera! I wanted to hear myself, man! Lots of exclamation points, oh dear. You know, I love watching Roger conduct. He's so into it, and he looks so graceful and happy, it makes me happy. When he does anything music-related, actually, it does something to this pore ole heart of mine. What if I'm attracted to talent, like Dominique in The Fountainhead? That would be strange and peculiar. Oh dear, oh dear. He's quite a good-looking fellow, too. Why did I ever break up with him? At the end of the concert (which was fraught with peril), everyone took pictures, and it was about a quarter of an hour before we could get out and go to the reception. Poor Austin waited for me patiently the whole time, and I felt bad, but who can argue with the will of the photographers? A picture is worth a thousand words, you know, and words are money in this economy! What am I even saying? But man, Austin, though. He's so exceedingly attractive! Makes my knees feel weak whenever he's around. He got all spiffed up for the concert (or, as he said, for me), and he looked like a tangible representation of poetry. I'm such an awkward little dork though; I kept getting tongue-tied at all the wrong moments, and never made any witty puns, and was just an unspectacular social failure all in all. How can this be? Why is this happening to me? Maybe I'm losing my brain as I mature and ready myself for the plummet of life. I could have some kind of wasting disease, maybe, and every day I will lose a few more brain cells until I am naught but a vegetable. And since I am no Dudley Randall, I think it would be best to donate the working parts of my body to those who need them at that point. How did my charming monologue on love turn so morbid? I think that's a problem too. Anyway, I'm a sad specimen, and it must have pervaded the general atmosphere, because Austin was all tongue-tied too. Later he texted me and said that he was sorry for being such an awkward individual around me, since he always thinks he'll be fine, and then I'm distracting, or some lovely sentimental rag like that. But for the time being, it was a slightly uncomfortable half-hour. We found Roger, who was talking to some of his elderly admirers, and he came over and talked to us for awhile until I had to leave (and Austin went with me). He and Austin, man, they're quite the pair. I had heart palpitations on the one end, and leg failure on the other. I'm glad no one else was there, or I would have had to be carried out on a stretcher. Do I sound like a shameless flirt for saying all this? That's all right, because I am. No problem there! I had a really fun time though, and it was disappointing to leave so soon. Actually, not really, come to think of it, because then we went off to Barnes and Noble and I read The Economist and drank tea lemonade, and it was really very wonderful.
Say, I don't think people give that magazine enough credit, by the way! Its positions are so sensible, and the writing is so good, and it has flippin' puns in every article! You can't get much better than that. I wish I had more time to devote to news and all that. I read Mother Jones and stuff like that online, but it takes awhile to go around to each article and peruse it thoroughly, and then you get sucked in and start reading stuff from years ago, and then you want to look stuff up, so you go on Wikipedia, and then you're down the rabbit hole never to return. And since I have limited time to spend on the computer (even on my baby Daisy Bell), I don't read stuff as much as I should. It's so shameful, really. I can't let my laziness and lack of time management skill get in the way of my absorption of world affairs! I want to be able to discuss a bit of everything with everyone, like Jefferson (whom I don't like, really, although I feel like I should, but that's beside the point), and that includes all parts of the news. I have to admit, I sometimes skip the articles on agriculture or whatnot, just because the business and economics and politics are more interesting to me, but I really need to stop doing that. What if I meet a farmer at a party and I don't know anything about his party? I have to labor to know of Labor (or Labour, I guess), and that is final.
Now, what was I talking about before this excellent interlude? Ah yes, boys. An excellent subject. I think I'll return to it. So, let me tell ya about a fella whom I've met, but who is not well met (what a punchy sentence, dearie me, I do have flair). I met him at the wedding I played with Mom and Kitty and Sungmin, and I thought he was pretty cute, so I did the whole eye-flirting thing that is so popular with Durkos and Alfonsos alike. I mean, I didn't gaze passionately at him while stroking my beard and mumbling Wagner lyrics or anything (although that would have been funnier), but it was a nice little light, Rococo, divertimento to while away the weary hours. So, that was all well and good, but then he found me on facebook and started messaging me. And then he started texting me. And now he won't stop. It's dreadfully annoying! I mean, I can just be sitting down innocently to read some existential philosophy, and bam, it's time for another Hit-on-Jasmine session with the world's most illiterate Lothario! I wonder what it's like for people who don't have to worry about this sort of thing all the time. And I wonder why it is that I can never attract the attentions of an Ivan Karamazov or a Francisco D'Anconia. Maybe I'm genetically predisposed to irritation, and I have to seek it out wherever it may find me. It does seem to find me, though. That creative writer chap has been chatting me up recently as well, and doing so in language that seems remarkably poor for someone planning on writing for a living. You'd think potential authors would need to know the rudiments of grammar and spelling, but maybe that's all the job of the editors nowadays. At any rate, he has no editor when speaking with me, so I'm subjected to the full brunt of his unwanted linguistic inventiveness. I guess it's a helpful, eye-opening, experience for me. Perhaps I can somehow use some of his aberrations from our mother tongue as additions to a project in college next year or something. There has to be a way to get some use of him! Oh my, I sound like a horrible person. I suppose I am, though, so that shouldn't make no never-mind. Well, then.
You know, I hate to be an abrupt Durko-type, as well as an awkward Kevin one (see the annals of my tragic failures in the field of love), but it's a little late, and I'm tired, so without prevarication or delay (maybe just a little delay), I'll be off to bed! I really need to learn some new literary quotations involving the phrase "goodnight"; I think I've used up all of them on here already. But be that as it may, Goodnight!
Say, I don't think people give that magazine enough credit, by the way! Its positions are so sensible, and the writing is so good, and it has flippin' puns in every article! You can't get much better than that. I wish I had more time to devote to news and all that. I read Mother Jones and stuff like that online, but it takes awhile to go around to each article and peruse it thoroughly, and then you get sucked in and start reading stuff from years ago, and then you want to look stuff up, so you go on Wikipedia, and then you're down the rabbit hole never to return. And since I have limited time to spend on the computer (even on my baby Daisy Bell), I don't read stuff as much as I should. It's so shameful, really. I can't let my laziness and lack of time management skill get in the way of my absorption of world affairs! I want to be able to discuss a bit of everything with everyone, like Jefferson (whom I don't like, really, although I feel like I should, but that's beside the point), and that includes all parts of the news. I have to admit, I sometimes skip the articles on agriculture or whatnot, just because the business and economics and politics are more interesting to me, but I really need to stop doing that. What if I meet a farmer at a party and I don't know anything about his party? I have to labor to know of Labor (or Labour, I guess), and that is final.
Now, what was I talking about before this excellent interlude? Ah yes, boys. An excellent subject. I think I'll return to it. So, let me tell ya about a fella whom I've met, but who is not well met (what a punchy sentence, dearie me, I do have flair). I met him at the wedding I played with Mom and Kitty and Sungmin, and I thought he was pretty cute, so I did the whole eye-flirting thing that is so popular with Durkos and Alfonsos alike. I mean, I didn't gaze passionately at him while stroking my beard and mumbling Wagner lyrics or anything (although that would have been funnier), but it was a nice little light, Rococo, divertimento to while away the weary hours. So, that was all well and good, but then he found me on facebook and started messaging me. And then he started texting me. And now he won't stop. It's dreadfully annoying! I mean, I can just be sitting down innocently to read some existential philosophy, and bam, it's time for another Hit-on-Jasmine session with the world's most illiterate Lothario! I wonder what it's like for people who don't have to worry about this sort of thing all the time. And I wonder why it is that I can never attract the attentions of an Ivan Karamazov or a Francisco D'Anconia. Maybe I'm genetically predisposed to irritation, and I have to seek it out wherever it may find me. It does seem to find me, though. That creative writer chap has been chatting me up recently as well, and doing so in language that seems remarkably poor for someone planning on writing for a living. You'd think potential authors would need to know the rudiments of grammar and spelling, but maybe that's all the job of the editors nowadays. At any rate, he has no editor when speaking with me, so I'm subjected to the full brunt of his unwanted linguistic inventiveness. I guess it's a helpful, eye-opening, experience for me. Perhaps I can somehow use some of his aberrations from our mother tongue as additions to a project in college next year or something. There has to be a way to get some use of him! Oh my, I sound like a horrible person. I suppose I am, though, so that shouldn't make no never-mind. Well, then.
You know, I hate to be an abrupt Durko-type, as well as an awkward Kevin one (see the annals of my tragic failures in the field of love), but it's a little late, and I'm tired, so without prevarication or delay (maybe just a little delay), I'll be off to bed! I really need to learn some new literary quotations involving the phrase "goodnight"; I think I've used up all of them on here already. But be that as it may, Goodnight!
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Wanderings of a wandering eye
Well, it's my mind that's wandering, really, but that doesn't have the same ring to it, does it? And my eye might wander, given time. You never know.
Today, Austin came to CKC. Dude, what. Man, I didn't really expect him to come, so when I saw him coming up, my stomach dropped. So did my jaw. He's so gorgeous, man! Wow, that sounded like one of these dubious romance novels, and it wasn't even supposed to. I could become a writer one day.
Rose walked slowly through the decrepit parking lot, the cold, black, metal music stands in her arms echoing the state of her heart. Why, she thought, with a dejected sigh, is there no love in the world? Just then, her wandering and sorrowful eye fell upon the other side of the parking lot, like an anchor on the sea, and her heart gave a tumultuous leap. She half expected an angel choir to start singing and the CKC kids to start playing in tune, for there, looking effortlessly glamorous, in his non-egotistical Narcissus-esque glory, stood Dallas. Rose gulped. Maybe there was love in the world after all.
Actually, that's quite good. I especially liked the bit about his "non-egotistical Narcissus-esque glory." I mean, Adonis is so overdone, obviously Narcissus is better. Anyway, where was I? So, Austin really came, and he brought me Starbucks! There weren't any guitar kids for him to teach, so he stayed with me while I taught some of the little girls. One plays viola, one plays violin, and one "plays" violin, but none of them are terribly preoccupied with behaving nicely. So poor Austin, besides running errands for me, had to be the court jester for these atrocious little children. He was quite patient, I must say. I don't know how he put up with it. I managed to get some good teaching done, though, since he distracted the others while I taught one, and the time really went fast with him there. I was so worried that he was going to get mad at me for exposing him to the horrors of the program, though, it was almost hard to concentrate (fortunately, I don't need my whole mind to do my job). Oh man, I'm such an awkward individual though! I couldn't stop acting like some kind of congenital dorkfish, and make myself behave normally! It was terrible. It made him act awkward, which made me feel uncomfortable, and then I got even awkwarder. Blah. And you know, the worst part is, I'm not usually awkward! I'm shy, and sometimes I get into situations where I can't bring myself to speak, but I usually don't make a fool of myself, and especially not around guys! So I don't know what's going on here. Maybe I like him. Now wouldn't that be an interesting development? I could finally relate on a personal level to all my favorite love poems, and even the ones I didn't like before would take on a special value for me! Maybe I could even write some of my own (that don't mention Call of Duty or orcs)! It would probably be quite a good thing for everyone. So do I like him? I don't know. Maybe just a little. But I digress. So, we managed to teach the little brats, and then it was over. We chatted with him in the parking lot a bit, but we finally had to leave, so we did, and that was that. I feel like I did a terrible job overall. What if hated it? What if hated me (and still does)? This is really stressful, y'all don't even know. Awhile later, he texted me and said he was sorry for being so awkward, and that he liked it, so I guess that was good. He also said he wrote me a song, but he didn't get a chance to sing it for me, because he got nervous. Apparently, my eyes were too nice. Well... I suppose even if he looked that one up on the internet, it shows initiative. What do you think? I wonder if he really did write a song for me. That would bring my tally up to two. And two poems. All by different people, of course. I hope he did write a song, and I hope he gives me a copy, for I would like to analyze the lyrics.
Ah, young love.
I finished the sequel to Cannery Row today! It's called Sweet Thursday. I feel like a fraud, because I haven't actually read Cannery Row, and here I go talking about it, but I suppose that's what happens in this sad life. Anyway, it's really cute. I never thought I'd read a happy Steinbeck novel, but it's possibly one of the most lighthearted things I've read for awhile (which, considering my reading list, isn't really saying much). Dad looked through a few pages and pronounced it "impious," but by that time, I was too far gone to stop. And I don't think it's nearly as bad as some of the things he reads on the internet. Oh, speaking of books! I finished The Brothers Karamazov yesterday, and it was so sad! I mean, I guess it ends semi-hopefully, with Alyosha imparting moral lessons to the boys and all, but I mean, Ivan's lying on his deathbed, and Dmitry's been sentenced to Siberia, and Smerdyakov (whom I didn't like, but that's the point I guess) and little Ilyusha are dead, and Katerina and Grushenka and Ilyusha's parents are possibly crazy, and, like, what are we supposed to do here? The end seemed so abrupt, too. Maybe I'm just missing it all. That could definitely be the case. I do get too caught up in books and act like a complete snob, and that's bad. People are probably pretty sick of it. Be that as it may, I started reading Thus Spake Zarathustra, and it's so interesting! Not very pious, as Dad would say, but I think it's good to read things from different points of view. And a lot of the ideas are similar to Dostoevsky's too! It's fun to draw parallels between the two. Again, though, I might be doing it all wrong, and I might look like an idiot. Francisco certainly seemed to think so. He didn't reply when I started holding forth. Ugh, I'm a pretentious jerk! I really thought it was fascinating, and I wanted to share, but somehow, no one wants to talk about these things with me. Maybe I should read up on my sports teams and terminology, do you think?
I started making a list of items I'll need to pack for college. It doesn't seem quite real, somehow. It's like when I went to Korea in eighth grade. It felt like I was just playing make-believe until I was sitting in the plane and the pilot was telling us we were on our way to Seoul. In this case, I probably won't be able to grasp it until after I settle into my schedule and classes are under way. It's just too weird! I mean, here I am, silly little Jasmine, connoisseur of art and literature and music and not much else (well, not even connoisseur, really, but "devotee" isn't enough and "expert" is too much), not possessed of overmuch emotional maturity or even the ability to talk comfortably with strangers, and I'm going off to live in a foreign land where I don't know anyone at all! What am I doing? Oh man, this is going to be such a shock when it finally sinks in, I don't even know what I'll do. Maybe I'll write a novel and become famous and rich and have to do book signings all over the country. We've already established my prowess. At least I'll have my beloved Daisy Bell to comfort me in my hour of need. Nothing can be beyond redemption as long as there's the internet, right?
I stepped on a thorn today. Now my foot hurts. It's right on my big toe, too, I mean, how unromantic can you get? If I had to have a wound, it should really be on a nice, polite, portion of my anatomy, like my arm or something. But toes just seem a trifle undignified. I hope it doesn't get infected and swell up or anything; I have enough trouble with my outfits as it is without having to go around barefoot all the time. What if I had to go to Urgent Care? I'd be there for hours and hours! I think I'd almost rather have the health problem. Speaking of health problems, I edited the abstract for Mom's paper today. She wanted me to have a look-over to see if the grammar was correct and whatnot, but I thought she wanted a proper editing job, so I took a red pencil and went right to it. Now, I might be pickier than is strictly necessary, but Mom's students are almost worse at writing than are the kids in my English classes. The poor paper was blooming with graphite (or wax, really, I suppose) when I was done, and Mom wasn't too plussed. I gather she'd helped to piece together some of the paragraphs when the students got stuck (which, judging from their apparent skill at writing, was probably often), and I'd stomped all over her work with complete callous indifference and a few cries of "awkward wording!" That can't be pleasant for anyone, oh no. I sure did have fun before I knew whose it was, though!
I'll have you know, though, Mom is a PhD, and is one of the smartest people I know. So don't y'all be thinking that I'm thinking she ain't thinking!
So there.
Man, my eye really itches. What is up with that? Maybe I have pinkeye. I hope not. It sounds so unpleasant. I'd have to take antibiotics and such. Well, I mean, that might actually be pretty interesting, but it would be a pain to take care of all the same. Now that you mention it (not that you did), I've been looking downright hideous lately! First, my bangs were too long, and wouldn't stop leaping all over my head like incontinent gazelles, so I cut them. Now they're the right length, but they make my face look round and babyish (which, admittedly, doesn't take a miracle to do). I keep trying different things with the rest of my hair, but so far, none of it seems to be working. I'm going to have to buy a wig if this keeps up. You know, why did that ever go out of fashion? Wigs were fun. People never had to have bad hair days. Of course, the upkeep couldn't have been a breeze, and I wouldn't want to wear one everywhere, but still. Maybe they went out with Marie Antoinette. Oh, or else, maybe everyone who wasn't in the Whig party got tired of having their opponents in everyone's foremost thoughts and on their heads and put a stop to the madness. Really, there should be quite a few good jokes in there. I shall have to think them up and tell them to anyone unfortunate enough to be around me.
Now, though it pains my nocturnal heart to say it, it is quite late, and I should be off to bed. Bon soir, mon amour, and I hope you dream in French much better than mine!
That's actually a cute thought, aww.
Okay, goodnight.
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