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So. I invited her to dinner, sent an invitation even. And never heard back from her. Somehow, I knew I wouldn't. But I got myself all nicely dressed and ready anyways, just in case she should show at my doorstep, apologetic smile ready to pacify me. By 8:15, I knew that I could forget any plans I'd made, that a nice dinner at a nice restaurant was something for another time, another place. A different girl. Someone who would actually call me back, and graciously decline an invitation, even if it meant making up some random excuse that was as easily seen through as a Japanese rice paper screen. I'd found Spiderman 2 on HBO by that point, and managed to lose myself in the movie even as the back of my mind kept listening for some knock at the door. Afterwards I saw her online. Let her contact me; I'm done with invitations and niceness. I've done my part, and she knows how to reach me. If she so chooses, I'll accept any apology she might make. I think, now, that telling her she was my first kiss was my first mistake. Possibly my first and only mistake. And even as I said it that night my mind gave this little mental scream of "noooooo!! idiot!" and I instantly wished I could take back the words that had just come out of my mouth. It makes me sad that out of everything I could have learned from her, the one lesson I really got was not to share revelations such as the one I did. Growing more guarded in what I tell people, rather than less, is not something I like the idea of... the thought's a weird, strange little one - that each relationship or kernel of a relationship that I go through will teach me to share less and less. Such a sad world, when it comes to that. Our lessons should be good ones, not harsh ones that make us regret decisions in the first place. So... now the waiting begins, and I'm back to the lesson I was trying to learn before she kissed me and made me smile and way to happy for nearly a week - that caring too much from the very start just hurts too much in the end. It's better to force yourself not to care, and then be pleasantly surprised when life does go your way. What a fucking pessimist I have to be. Break my halo and blacken my wings, I can't stay this good forever. "Someday, love will find me... in the rough."
I'm sitting here, grinning inwardly like a fool, at the simple thought of kissing someone. Specifically, someone gorgeous with two lip rings and a labret. And the thought is making me all weak-kneed and totally "omfg". *melty swoon* Holy fuck. This is happy thoughts at its best.
And in other news life is going fairly well, fall semester starts soon and I have no place to stay yet, woot. But I hope I can figure that out, as it's kind of important. Hmm. And that wrap up my will to blog for tonight.
The rain came down from ash-grey clouds, sidewalks already darkened from previous storms the night before, thunder rumbling high above, an epic clash of forgotten gods. He hadn't bothered getting an umbrella, so he stood under the eaves of a Starbucks, waiting out the fiercer parts of the downpour. Headphones today sang the melancholy chords of The Cure; techno was yesterday's beat, no room in today's worldview for the thrumming, bone-deep bass right now. So instead he floated on a mental sea of incredible depth, Robert Smith alternately screaming and whispering of lost love and anguish. Yeah, that fit. Consumer whore customers jostled him as they came in and out of the coffeeshop; he ignored them all. "Consumer whore... that includes me as well, doesn't it," he thought ruefully as he sipped a $3.95 cup of coffee. At least it kept him warm. He grinned and fingered the envelope in his pocket; at least he'd managed to get the part he needed for that last upgrade. The grin faded as he thought of her again, for the hundredth time that day. Always when he least expected it she'd surface in his memory. The sky broke open then, and an especially heavy rain started with an ominous rumble of thunder and several flashes of lightning. He sighed, shrugged. Flipped the hood over his head; he'd already waterproofed it, along with the rest of the jacket. A little rain wouldn't hurt, and he could feel the pull starting, calling him back home to finish that 'frame. Technology was a bitch, sometimes.
The tangle of equipment and wiring had grown in the past week, a labyrinth of LEDs and cooling fans, chips and circuitboards to match the mess his mind has become. Tangled sheets slithered from mattress to floor, the bed abandoned in favor of the floor, his lanky frame resting on once-plush carpet as one hand idly typed on a Logitech keyboard. Monitor glare flickered over Kid Emo's face as he glid down electronic paths of infomation, flowing like rivers through the nexus of his room, network servers handling terabytes with an ease belied by their massive frames. He cackled, low and madness-tinged, as the text message flashed with a low ding on his screen. So much for Fate and good luck. A sigh followed, dredged from the depths of despair. Emo, they called it now, as if to make it cool and hip for the next generation. Well, he'd earned his nickname many times over. Typed out a reply and hit send, waiting for the next reply with something akin to morbid fascination. A motorist staring grimly at the scene of the accident, only here it was the network admin watching his screens in horror as the virus ate through layers of protection. Damage control was pointless; previous experience had taught him that much. He shrugged and switched tracks on Nodal Point; the everpresent headphones finding t.A.T.u's "All the Things She Said." Techno beats matched his heartbeat with an interesting counterpoint, as another ding announced the next reply. He read it, smiled, and hit the 'x'. No need to continue down that path of sorrow tonight. There'd be more opportunities tomorrow, and the night after. There always were.
He sprawled over the entire bed, one arm overhanging the edge, fingers trailing. "I've been living so long with these pictures of you / that the pictures are all I can feel..." The Cure's melodic strands of infinite depth and sadness pouring into his ears via the headphones, cord to the iPod snaking its length over his body, tangled around a limp wrist. He floated on the music, a pioneer among pioneers, drifting through the endless spaces of his own mind. Kid Emo, they called him. Dark eyes flickered toward the internals of his computer, cabling like intestines stretching in multiple directions. The hard drive here, power supply there, clear worm-tubes of coolant invading the lesser wires. It worked, though. It always did. It was the rest of his life that didn't. No matter how many mainframes he built, how many corps he hacked into, riding the Matrix in a stream of digital information, his life outside the tech always strung him out into the melancholy depressions that earned him his name. He sighed. Being yourself didn't work outside the vast realms of cyberspace. He'd managed to fail again, perhaps spectacularly, the damage not yet fully realized. Maybe a few day's time would tell. Or not. The wilting lillies filled the dark room with an almost cloying scent; they'd long since bloomed and begun fading. Eyes closed as he breathed out. The week had begun with promise, but now... Maybe he'd stop trying again. Not that it ever lasted long; like his skills with tech, that was a part of himself, deep down, that he knew he'd never be rid of. Movement now, as a finger slowly switched tracks from memory, The Cure's "Lovesong" becoming U2's "Tryin' to Throw Your Arms Around the World." He gave another sigh, and drifted back through old memories, drowning in dreams, past and present intermingling as the music played on.
I have no idea what I'm doing wrong; I'm being myself and perhaps that's the cause of everything. And it's not like I can stop being myself, or even want to. If people can't deal with that, then maybe they're not the sort of people I should be spending time with. Or, more appropriately, trying to spend time with. Because as it is, I've not managed to successfully do so yet. I'm going emo again, and it's maddening because I can't help it. I have no patience when it comes to romantic relationships, and it frustrates me to no end that every time I make plans to go out with someone they end up not happening.
It's been far too long since I've updated. Becoming busy will do that. Not that I have much to say that's relevant to anything... I've decided to make a soundtrack for myself, of myself, about myself. Yeah, it sounds weird. Basically, I'm picking songs that fit me. The outside me that everyone sees, and the inside me that's, well, me. It'll be two cds, I think... Layer 01 and Layer 02.
I've been doing rehearsal for Merry Wives of Windsor and they're going well; we open in less than three weeks, on Monday the 11th. I'm excited and nervous. Zy said, in regards to tattoos, that one should wait 6 months to be really sure you want it, then wait another 6 months before finally getting it. She told me what she'll be getting, and it's a really cool idea.
School ends in less than three weeks as well. Our final is on July 7th. Squee! One session down, one to go.
It's hard to be alone, sometimes. I think I've gotten used to it by just not thinking about it and by burying it beneath dreams and random thoughts, and wishes. And I don't really mean "alone" in the sense of "not in a relationship" or "lacking that special someone". I have friends, and I'm very close to those friends. But even so, at times I feel like I'm one entity, unnoticed and forgotten, amidst this giant stream of life occuring all around me, and all I can do is watch and observe. Like the times when I go to Barnes and Noble or Half-Price Books by myself. I see couples, children, people with friends, all interacting and being, and I stand by and wonder what they're thinking, what they'll do tomorrow, and so on. At Half-price it's even worse, because all those people seem to know another by first name, it's like this little clique that no-one wants to tell you the password to, and all you can do is think "I wish I could be on the other side". Every now and then I wonder what life is like for those people who have a thousand different aquaintances, but no one they can really call "friend". I've got people I can call "friend" in the truest sense that should I ever need it, they'd probably help me move bodies. But I'm not sure I have all that many aquaintances, and often it's hard to wander around without anyone to talk to. So I deal by not thinking about it. Which, when you're as inclined to overthink and overanalyze as I am, is not an easy task. It's an amusing life I lead, I think...
I've been told by two people in my life so far that I'm clingy; no, three people. All of them at one point or another meant a lot to me, and hearing that I was clingy wasn't the most fun in the world. But it opens your eyes to flaws you might not see by glancing at yourself in the proverbial mirror of your soul, as it were... And to be honest, afterwards I did start to look at myself, and wonder if maybe I was clingy. I do notice it, now, when I start doing things that I personally would consider to be clingy, and I always try to stop, or at least tone down, my clingyness. Sprite mentioned tonight that I worry too much, and that most people worry too much. It's true. I've always been a worrier, an eternal pessimist(except when it comes to certain situations in which, truly, I should be the most pessimistic of all), and yes, when I care about someone I make it known. *shrugs* With Brey it was different, because it was a long-distance relationship, and after we started talking on the phone it just became habit to talk to her nightly that way. It's very difficult to move back to simple online conversation when you've heard their voice, especially and even more so when you don't see that person every day, or even every few months. Fade was different... she's still different, now that we're talking again. I got drawn into the black hole of her personality, her disfunction, her problems, and, being me, I tried to help in the best way I knew how, by talking and being there for her, even if only through instant messages and emails. And when she tried to tear me down, at the end, she brought up that flaw(is it really, though?) amongst other things, and that was the end of our conversations. We didn't talk for almost a year, and I drowned myself in forums and webcomics, staying as far away from instant messaging programs as I could, for more than six months. Now that we're talking again, we just are... I'm not sure that there's friendship there as much as a sense of "I still care about you in some way". She's incredibly self-destructive, but brilliant at the same time, and I think she's the only person I've ever managed to stop worrying about. I know that regardless of what I say she'll still have her habits, and she's not willing to change, her environment won't let her change. So I wall off whatever worry I may have felt at some point, and ignore it, if that worry even still exists. She doesn't surprise me much, anymore.
Since then, I think I've managed slightly well to keep from clinging too much. Everyone needs their personal space, I should know that more than anyone. So I find myself not sending that email to comment on whatever is going through my head at the time, or not immediately dropping what I'm doing to go over and talk with whomever. Or at least I'm trying. And that's what counts, isn't it? The trying?
I just read that Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets is going to be dubbed into Gaelic and shown in Ireland on Halloween night. How fucking cool is that? I'd love to be able to get a copy of that and watch it... it's such a beautiful language.
Class started today, it'll be fun/boring. Fun because the teacher seems really cool, boring because it's government and the class is nearly two hours long.
Out of stuff to write, and I need to head to rehearsal anyways. Oh well.
See now the plague priests in their ash-grey robes. Cowled, mouths and noses covered, pale eyes examining the world. Disinterested in mortal affairs. Hear the chant and hear the dirge-pipes, leading the Damned through the Forgotten Lands, past the river Styx, into Hades and Purgatory. In silence they fill the plague carts, bodies piled like cordwood, bubules and pustules oozing even under that gentle touch. They speak not to the living, but offer comfort to the dead. Bleak winds course down city streets, now emptied of the throngs that once massed at market, stalls empty, fruit rotting where it lies. All roads now lead to the plague pits, hellish mouths in hill and field, greedily consuming and ever hungry. Doused with pitch and tar when full, they burn like the Hell the Church preaches of, flames stretching long into the night, creating roads Above and Below... And as the chants and pipes fade, whispered words drift skyward. "All Death is certain..."
And so it occured to me, much like a lightning bolt out of a clear sky, only this case it was into my mind... well, a revelation about myself. I've heard from more than one person that I tend to have a large number of crushes, and those people have all asked "why?". To which I couldn't reply, because I don't know. I still don't. But it occurs to me while I was busy hosting, that I pursue girls that I have crushes on with my usual stubborness, only stopping when it becomes apparent that the girl in question doesn't return my interest. So far, so good. However, I have also discovered that after I stop pursuing a relationship of a romantic nature, that the crush in question tends to turn into staunch friendship of the sort that I normally only reserve for, well, very close friends. That, of course, is also tempered by how well I've come to know the person by that point... but either way, I automatically tend to take on the mantle of Friend for that person, in normal circumstances. It's an interesting look inside myself that I'd not previously thought of.
I finished Good Omens yesterday, for the second time. This began a thought process, and I couldn't help but wonder if it's part of the human condition to ponder our role in the universe. We're such small, insignificant specks when you think about it. One tiny planet in the vast empty space of the galaxy, not to mention the rest of the universe around it. What's our part in life? Are we here for some higher purpose? Does God have some sort of Ultimate Plan that will determine our fate? ...Or are we really just living processors in a giant computer that is computing the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything? I used to wonder, when I was smaller and still reading Beverly Cleary's Ramona books, if we weren't all just part of someone else's story in a book, with a higher author writing and shaping the events of our lives. Like one of those nested Russian dolls, with smaller and smaller dolls inside it. And since I know the power of words, it does all make a weird sort of sense. It's thoughts like this that make me want to accomplish and make a name for myself and be remembered for centuries to come. It comes down to nodal points at some point, those event horizons that William Gibson writes about, where everything comes together at one point and time and something is bound to happen. You just have to look for them and realize what's happening in order to actually do anything about them. And by then it's often largely too late, because you've spent the time thinking about said nodal point instead of doing something to affect it. ^_^ I'm good at that.
I am once more at the mountains of Frustration. Mom, in her infinite wisdom, because of course she knows everything better than I do, especially when dealing with computers(can you sense me rolling my eyes here, and the ice-tinged sarcasm?) has listened to the asshats at Best Buy, whose only fucking job is to sell things(!!!) and bought some spyware removal program called Spy Sweeper. I dislike it immensely, and not just because it cost $29.99 and appears to be a memory-hogging piece of crap. It uses pop-ups to tell you when it's found spyware on your computer. Isn't the whole purpose of a spyware removal program to stop the pop-ups? It also requires you, upon installation, to go online and download a newer version(!). Instead of Spy Sweeper, I could have downloaded and installed AdAware for the reasonable price of free. But that's not how Mom does things. Heaven forfend, why should she listen to someone who actually knows what he's doing? I utterly despise not being listened to and having my sound advice ignored. It is the single thing I have yet found that has the ability to drive me into a blind rage in moments. By my best reckoning, I have another month of weekends ahead of me before I can afford to build my own system. The day cannot come sooner when I can rid myself of ever having to give my parents computer advice again, and blissfully sit in front of my own machine to do whatever I wish to it.
I dreamt and slept badly last night... again. No surprise, I suppose. The dream... I was in Merry Wives of Windsor, only it wasn't the play proper. It was more the idea of the play. I was with someone, and there was medieval dress. I was wearing a tunic that came nearly to my knees, and no pants. And the matronly woman wanted to put me into a suit of patched motley, much like one of those babie's one-piece suits you see. I said I'd rather go pantless than wear it, and then I saw someone wearing a kilt and said that I'd wear that instead. Then there was a dice game, where I skillfully cheated at the dice(they were using 12-siders), and stairs stretched far into the darkness above us, twisting every which way like in Labyrinth. Odd indeed.
Work last night was sloooooow; I got much reading done. Tonight will hopefully be somewhat busier, but preferably not busy enough to where I need to rush to get things done.
I saw Kingdom of Heaven yesterday, and overall the movie was just ok. Not great, not terrible, not inspiring. Just ok. What a terrible thing to say about a movie, when you can't even form a proper opinion on it because the movie doesn't offer enough substance to create a proper opinion. The best character in the whole damn movie was David Thewlis's knight, introspective and god-fearing, yet never afraid to show a sense of humor. And he's a fucking bit part! Although the Leper King was good too... it's very hard to bring across a sense of anything while wearing a mask the entire time, but the actor portraying him did an excellent job.
Balion: "You go to certain death."
Thewlis: "All death is certain."
At the end of the movie, Balion asks Saladin what Jerusalem is worth, and he replies "Nothing. ...Everything." It amazes me sometimes, it really does, what people will do in the name of God. The Catholic Church sent how many Crusades into the Holy Land against the Muslims? 5? All in the name of God, to kill the infidels... who believed in the exact same God, only worshipped him differently. There's still fighting going on there, and probably will be for centuries to come. All because someone's beliefs are different from someone else's.
It made me think, just a bit. I'm Catholic, but haven't been to church or confession in years and years. I believe in some sort of higher being, but whether it's God or gods I don't know yet. Sometimes I think that I believe in technology more than anything. That's something that comes from reading too much William Gibson, and being so entrenched in computers and cyberspace. And why not? Technology is what drives the world these days. Heh. Someday we'll all have cybernetic implants...
I particularly like the title of this one. I believe William Gibson has a dvd of his random ramblings that's entitled Familiar Territory, which doesn't make my title any less worthy. I haven't strayed from familiar territory much at all, but right now I'm considering the possibility. Just doing something that I've not done before, talking to someone I normally wouldn't, and so on. Like the goth girl on the bus. People like that make me wonder what their motivations are for doing the things they do. It's always when you don't have time that you wish for changes and possibilities to open up in front of you.
It's sometimes quite frustrating how a single comment in conversation can make you lose all interest in writing out your thoughts. .......I like ellipses. Hmm. I've been sending out a few emails to people I needed to email, and not getting replies is annoying. I realize that people are busy and that not everyone checks their email as much as I do. But not getting replies makes me feel like I'm tossing message bottles into the vast emptiness of cyberspace.
He pulled the blade from the scabbard, the weight reassuring in his hands as he turned the sword, looking over the steel for scratches and nicks. Found none, and slowly dragged the oiled rag over the three feet of dusky steel. The forms had come slowly today; he was out of practice. Cleaning Sorrow always put him into a meditative state of mind. It was a time to contemplate the day's events and think over tomorrow's. He poured a trickle of oil down the blade, wiped it down smoothly, working it into the metal. It was almost zen, the cleaning of weapons, especially at twilight when day turned to night and the colors all faded to grey. He polished Sorrow until she shone, gleaming with all the grace a thing made to kill others could gleam with. He sighed at the memory of the girl. Her blue eyes and her smile. It always came back to that, in the end. Always. Stumbling through life, unsure in that aspect no matter what happened. Always unsure, and uncertain. Whatever happens, happens, he told himself. As if the phrase solved anything. He emptied his mind and focused on the moment. Oil and wipe. Careful attention to the crossguard and the pommel, the bottom of the blade where it met the guard...
So, Jessica and I... it's going to be interesting, I think. She's distracting me from food, dammit! But the conversation is interesting. Argh! But it's fun.
It's one situation resolved that I don't need to worry about anymore, and I like her quite a bit. The next few weeks before school starts again will be fun, and then there's the play to do. Good stuff. For now though, I should probably get ready for work and get some food before then. Otherwise I'll end up starving tonight, or at least extremely hungry. Yay.
It's funny how hearing from someone that they're not ready for a "relationship" right now can make one feel extremely good and uber-giddy. But that's how it works with me. *sighs and grins* Yeah.. I think I'm going to like this.
Things are progressing. It's summer... well, almost. Midsummer's night isn't until the 23rd of June or so, by which time I'll be in the middle of Shakespeare, if I get cast of course. I'm also going to be going through American Government 1 and 2 during the summer. Yay.
Costuming was a great, great class... I learned alot, and I really do think I could do the costume designer shtick for life. There's so much one can do. The cape... I like the cape lots. It's big, and black, and swooshy, and drapes well, and makes me look like an evil, badass motherfucker when I'm wearing it.
I also ran into Jessica not once but twice today(woot!), and we exchanged numbers. And I think there's actually... no. I'm not going to ruin things by saying anything. Not a word. But I'll call her tomorrow to see if she wants to do anything. Heh. Rock on.
Life, for the moment, is good. *flexes wings and stretches, closing them with a soft snap* Hehe, life is happening, and I feel content, almost as much as I do nights when I'm the only one awake. Good deal indeed.
Haha, it's happened again. I fucking hate not being listened to. Thanks a bunch Mom, and fuck you for being so godamn stubborn. It's time I got my own damn computer; fuck your computer and your computer problems. If you want it fixed, take the damn thing to Best Buy and let them work on it. Screw your constant bitching about my lack of computer knowledge. News flash: it's been 7 years since my last computer class. I'm a bit behind on the times when it comes to technology. Yeah, I thik I can work up a system of my own in a few weeks. Sadly enough, the video card and a new copy of Windows XP will be the most expensive items on the list.
One thing that is definately not cool in my book is reading other people's private stuff. Especially when it's read to other people. Like a certain person, who has the privilege of reading my friends-only livejournal. And abused... no, raped that privilege by going through my entries and reading certain parts pertaining to another person, to that person. And then complicating my life by sharing that information with yet another person, with whom I'm already on bad terms. And damn this is difficult to write without putting in actual names. Thankfully the person this stuff was read to already knew most of it, and didn't care one whit that it was written. She was also kind enough to let me know that my friends-only livejournal had been compromised.
I'm not even angry about it anymore. Just ...disappointed. I thought I knew this person better than that. But apparently not. And so now there will be unnecessary drama and theatrics in Ohio, and that's the last thing I want. I wanted to hang out with various xForumites, drink some good alcohol, game a little bit, talk with Fae, and have a fun time. Now I have to worry about getting my ass kicked by a certain person for two different reasons. *sighs* As if I didn't have enough to worry about. Hell's bells.
So yes, there is empty disappointment about this whole situation. And I know I'll forgive the travesty, because a) I'm stupid like that, and b) I can't hold grudges. It may take a few weeks or months though. This is more serious than a little white lie. This is fucking over my trust.
On that note: I tend to use my livejournal to bitch about my hopeless romanticism and suchlike. Now I might as well start posting about stemware and laundry detergent. What's the use in having a private journal if you're never sure that it's not being read to a thousand other people?
