too much magic bus
02.11.03 @ 10:26 p.m.
Hmmm. Well, I spent the evening with Amy and Moni, though I have to secretly admit that I didn't really want to hang out with Amy that much. After all the drama I allude to, I actually had a better time talking to Moni. And she might be able to help me get a job as a leasing agent for her apartment complex. Sweet gig if you can get it, apparently, though the pay is not spectacular. Minimum wage.
Still. Definately worth thinking about.
I'm hesitant to talk about Amy because she knows how to get here, but as far as I know, she never has. I told her that I would rather she never read this. I would hope she would abide by my wishes in that respect. But I don't know. I don't think we're that terribly suited as friends. While the combination of reserve and exhuberance works well in the fictional friendship of Darcy and Bingly (will I ever stop comparing the world to P&P?!?), it just annoys the hell out of me. (In this case, I am clearly a Darcy figure. I don't say anything unless I really have something to say. I don't laugh and smile much, even if I am please or amused, at least in company. Otherwise, though, I'm hyper and addicted to laughter. Maybe I just don't think the people I'm with are funny? I have high standards for humor. I wish I had taken my copy of Dave Barry's Book of Bad Songs back from my parents last weekend. I could use a hysterical laugh or two.) I'm happiest with people like me, and, well, the people like me that I know are (in different ways) Moni, Martha, and Rachel. Rachel is probably the most like me overall, though she's a lot more energetic and outgoing than me, though she claims a lot of the same shyness I do.
My social problems are really severe. I mean, I'm not going to collapse in a panic attack, but I completely clam up and then people think I'm arrogant. (Hah, another Darcy comparison.) (Maybe that's why I idealize Elizabeth Bennet so much. That's what I want to be, but Darcyish is far closer to what I am.
Self analysis. Don't I always regret going into self analysis? Why do I lead myself down these roads?
So, far more mundane, I went to work out again today. Here's the deal: I just plain have to force myself to work out, I don't know, every other day. It just needs to be done. And I don't know why I need to force myself (yes, I do: social issues again), because I actually love exercising on the recumbant bike. It feels lovely, and I can read a book while I do it. And afterwards, I feel really great. I'm not even tired. I walked two laps around the suspended track after I finished my time on the bike today, and I could have gone more. I could have gone jogging, if I weren't generally so jiggly. I do not like things that make me bounce.
Still, while I was deep in my book (Soul Music by Terry Pratchett), I could tell through the magic of periphrial vision that they guy on the bike next to me kept looking in my direction. Disconcerting at the gym, where I was not exactly looking lovely and glamorous. I was sweaty and manky and my hair was in an ugly ponytail. I don't want to dwell on it, because I doubt it was anything. If it was anything, it was likely the fact that I have a largish bust (which is why I avoid the aformentioned bouncy activities).
Gah. Whatever. I have some homework to do tonight, but first I have to translate the assignment because it's in Italian and frankly, I have no idea what it says. Something something differences something something Italians and Americans. 150 words. Of course, 150 words is nothing, though I wish I had the resolve to write at least 400 words a day. I was reminded that I've let fiction writing fall by the wayside when I was reading the "Words from the Master" section of lspace.org, the primary Terry Pratchett resource. I was actually looking up the annotations for Soul Music. But I'm easily distracted. I wanted to read about Pterry's dislike for the Alice stories (which I have no inclination to read as I'm of a similar opinion as Pterry. What I do know of the Alice stories leaves me feeling creeped out and not at all amused or interested) which he kind of references in Susan Sto Helit's initial reactions to the Death of Rats.
I want to go to the mall soon. I have to, in fact, because I'm nearly out of deodorant, so a trip to Target is probably in order. Or maybe Fred Meyer, but Target is really more convenient.
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
