the carpet, too, is moving under you
04.25.05 @ 11:45 p.m.
Oh, the weekend. I was really going to try to be good and get things done in a timely manner, but I know myself better than that. Saturday was killed by driving down from Portland, dicking around until I had to jump in the shower, then over to Moni's. Andrew came down from Corvallis to visit Moni, and so the three of us went out to a Thai restaurant and then out to the Cinemark to see Kung Fu Hustle. (RECOMMENDED!) That was a great, hilarious movie. I intended to go straight home and work on my midterms, but of course I stayed at Moni's place until midnight, hanging out and having a bizarrely grow-up conversations about sexuality, society, sexism and prejudice. God, we're so fucking old, and I mean that in the sense of 'mature.' Moni and Andrew generally agreed with my vague theory of parental repression and subsequent behavior. Basically, the 'Wandering Friends' (that's what our YahooGroup is called, anyway) all had parents who didn't bother forbidding things, and as a result, we're not sluts and drunks. My best friend in the entire world was told that she could not date until she was sixteen, and she went right out and started dating a boy... I have no words for this young man's stupidity, it was so intense and complete. He was the first to fit her cowboy fetish. I was never outright forbidden anything or given age limits, and as such, I never felt the need to rebel.
Then I stayed up too late reading The Stand. (I'm having an intense apocalypse-lit craving.) I slept a long time and barely started on my Detective Fic midterm by 7 p.m. I did pretty much all of my Intro midterm today, and since I barely slept last night, I ended up spacing on a group project meeting.
Here is a weird and crazy thing: I mis-set my alarm last night at three in the morning, mixing up a.m. and p.m., but I woke up at 6:30 anyway. It's not so weird that I have an occasionally functioning internal clock, but rather that I woke up to this sensation that was... needles flying through the air toward me and either running into some kind of sheild around me or forming some kind of shell around me and it was scary and strange. I cannot even begin to do it justice.
And oh, oh my god. I saw the Who Boy today when I was coming out of PLC after dropping off my Intro midterm. It's funny, because I've... I've pretty much given up even thinking about him, especially since today was the second time I've seen him with a quite petite girl who just has to be his girlfriend. He looked fucking gorgeous (in his own way; he's not objectively handsome, but cute enough to me), his hair was at just the right length... and I didn't feel anything. A lot of times I've felt myself seize up inside when I see him, felt nervous or electric or... anything. Today I just thought "Omigod, the Who Boy," was pleased to know he still exists in my world, and didn't feel any kind of regret or jealousy beyond the norm for seeing happy-comfortable looking couples. And then I strolled through the graveyard alternately marvelling at my lack of response and mildly cursing the fates for having me cross paths with the Who Boy when I look like hell.
Once it gets pretty consistantly dry (enough for the ground to not be too wet to sit on), I think I'll start spending my 10-12 break in the cemetary or some other outdoor part of campus. Much better than skulking around the EMU, certainly, and going home and coming back is so inconvenient that even with a two hour break, I only get to spend a few minutes in the house before I really should go back out to the bus stop.
Otherwise, not much is going on. I bought some craft things and am planning to eventually make a batik scarf with Victorian patterns from The Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine (I have the pattern I'm interested in using already; it was on a page I xeroxed for an embroidery pattern I took to convert for beading) and also a beaded guitar strap. In an act of unbelievable anal-renentiveness, I bought a compartmented box and started sorting the big pack of shiny seed beads by color. It's excessively fiddly little work, and yet... I cannot stop myself.
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
