[Note: References to hypocrisy and irony correspond to my previous blog entry.]
And so, terrible, terrible irony punches kung-fu's me in the face. I'm beaten and battered by the happenstances of my own device, and I can't even blame anyone else! Hypocrisy rears its ugly head, and turns my self-righteousness to stone! The story I'm sticking to by now, is that the devil coerced me on Hallowe'en night, and enticed me to drink myself into the abyss of oblivion, and participate in unladylike behaviour.
Alright, so... My displacement tactics are working overtime right about now, but for good reason.
My evening officially began at eight, where the first step into Hell was taken via a one-way ticket into a glass of Screwdriver-goodness. My initial plans were to meet with two friends, then meander over to a party some of my other friends were hosting. Unfortunately, before the meandering I had ingested far too much alcohol already.
Viva la hypocrisy!
I soon found myself immersed in cheering some beer-cup game, called Flip Cup. I vaguely recall that the whole point of the game was to drink your drink the fastest, and try to flip your cup from a down-right to an up-right position. When I first arrived, there wasn't really too much happening other than the game. Although, my mind seems to skip the rest of my socializing until a bunch of folks show up that I'm acquainted with. The music abounds with bass, and simultaneous dancing occurs. Myself included...
Between going onto a balcony and socializing there, and returning inside to dance some more and socialize there, I ended up by the Flip Cup table dancing with one of the friends I had brought with me. I, the Devil, her, a pregnant school-girl. By now, I had consumed an even larger quantity of alcohol. [The Raspberry Vodka spoke volumes to my senses.]
A handsome acquaintance shifted in and out from talking to me, then circling the room until he practically shoved a poor kid aside from infront of me, and asked if I wanted to dance. Of course, I obliged and we commenced a typical ritualistic dance that occurs during these shindigs. Somewhere, somehow through all of this dancing I got caught up in some moment and saw my handsome acquaintance dip his head towards me and we ended up tonsil-hockeying up a storm. This lead to some random ladies taking pictures of this, and for some reason I didn't really care at the time.
Fortunately, several songs and hockey games later, we both decided to obtain more alcohol and then return for more ritual dancing and quite possibly more hockey games. Unfortunately, I ended up returning to my place and my intentions went down the drain, or toilet...
For what seemed to me like an eternity, I ended up cradling the toilet bowl in my arms as I emptied the contents of my stomach. It took many attempts on my friend's behalf [who thankfully went with me], to get me into my bed. I fought her every inch of the way, wanting to sleep immediately and not wanting to move anymore. My head spun, my stomach lurched. I felt on the verge of either dying, or asking to. My jeans came off, my socks followed and I was a fetal-positioned mess on my bed with a bucket by my head on the floor. My clever makeup was smeared, and during a particularly painful upheavel from my stomach, I burst blood vessels in my eyes.
The moral of my tale is now I've become the Poster Girl of what not to do the first night you ever get drunk. Lady Larkspur: The Failed Role-Model.
I can officially say that I now look like a demoness from Hell, as my eyes are extremely red. Some of my friends who have seen my eye afterwards, didn't even know it was possible to burst blood vessels in the eyes from throwing up. Guess we learn something new everyday... At my expense.
And so, after all this raucus, I have yet to be contacted or [according to my sources] even mentioned to mutual friends. So it's a good guess [reality check] that I've been outed. Not that I expected anything less, of course. If anything, my initial thoughts on how this would all play out only went so according to plan, a script wouldn't have gone better. A friend asked me if I had wanted his number the very next day, but I shyly declined.
I said, "No... I couldn't possibly..." I thought, 'As if!' What could I have said?
"Hello, it's Lady Larkspur. Yes, the lady you've talked to only six times prior to making-out with on Halloween. Hm? The one who left you at the party, intending to return, but ending the night with her head in the toilet? Yes, the very one. Would you like to go for coffee?" Wouldn't bode very well, I think...
After I told my tale, one of my friend's psychological analysis of me consists of: "All your drinking and [debauchery] "getting together" with guys, is just you trying to drown your fears and stress in living for the moment." Hm, I wouldn't say it's not correct but as it was my first time... I could definitely say that her bitch-slap statement is a little bit exaggerated. But then, who exaggerates better than I do? She must have gotten it from me.
The best solution I've received on how to deal with my handsome acquaintance and the demon-eyes, is just to forget about it and move on. One step at a time, and continue moving forward. One night of all that chaos, and it's certainly enought to last me a lifetime. Besides, I'm one to find humour in irony and my circumstances now wreak with irony. Laughter is the best medicine, right? Ha ha ha ha...... [Sigh.] Well, even if he had called... I would've said no, anyways. [If I were smart, that is...]
"I would not just be a nothin', my head all full of stuffin'. My heart all full of pain. I would dance and be merry, life would be ding-a-derry. If I only had a brain."
Monday, November 3, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Blog Entry #3: Abandoned by the Spirit of Festiveness! Trick-Or-Treat?
It's been a while. I suppose you could say that I've almost abandoned this entire enterprise! Fear not, I have a method to my madness and recklessness. It directly coincides with being lazy, but we'll keep that hushed for now.
So, how to summarize an entire month's worth of events and of course, gossip. Being that the duration is a little spread out, and my memories of anything beyond yesterday are a little vague, I think I'll just have to forget about it all for the most part and just continue where I left off with only a minor update.
As for the happenstances of my life, the key highlight would be that I, almost entirely, dropped the whole SFB shenanigan. This resulted from the constant lack of interest in terms of remaining in contact, and keeping a promise of "making it up to me". Failing that, I now only see him in my English Literature class, and breakfast because of a mutual friend issue. And! In all of this there is a positive outcome: I'm cured of all spite!
Then all that's left is the minor social events, the constant studying, the upheaval of my love-life, and the staggering fact that I am almost dirt-poor. If dirt were a means of currency, then I'd be rich. Unfortunately, my debit machine doesn't accept barrels of dirt. Thusly, I'm pretty much at the ends of my financial run. But that's okay! Because when you've hit rock bottom, it forces you to be more creative. I've certainly had a boost on the right-hemisphere and let me tell you... The creative juices are a'flowin'.
That almost sounds gross...
I've thought of various ways that I could make money; like my idea to sell dirt in jars labelled as from different areas in Canada. Unfortunately, most of them fell through. [ie: I don't have the money to purchase said jars.] And most of them were scams anyways... Pan-handling is illegal, isn't it? Oh well, I'll just deal with what I've got and like it somehow.
Onto something equally as disturbing as being poor: Mid-terms. The bane of my existence, [I'm sure I'll be saying the same thing about Finals] and the devil in disguise! For the last week, I'm pretty sure I haven't had a book out of my hands save for going to the bathroom. That would be un-cool. So far, I've made it through the first two without an anxiety attack, and I actually think I did well on both. You never know, though. So I'm keeping my confidence in these two academic achievements to a minimum.
Up next: Art History
Where? 1080 Lecture Hall
When? Noon
I'll bring my guns, and we'll square off when the sun is at it's peak. Bring your cowboy hat, leather chaps, and spurs...
Lady Larkspur vs. Mid-term
In upcoming events, Hallowe'en has drawn near. While I've made minor major efforts to establish a costume [devil horns... and that's all], I'm not really looking forward to the festivities. The past few years, the necessity of Hallowe'en beyond lighting a candle in my window, has been seriously down-graded to eating ice cream with candy corn in it and watching an assortment of rented DVDs. It's a real [personal] shame, as out of all the holidays it's my third favourite. Christmas and Thanksgiving [due to the food] are my favourites.
Festive spirit, where hath thou gone?! I've been abandoned by the Spirit of Festiveness!
Tonight is apparently Devil's Night. My windows are thankfully egg-free, this time around. The significance of throwing eggs at people's windows, or toilet paper-ing their trees has always been lost to my knowledge. I understand it's something to do with trickery. Ha-ha, what a hilarious commodity to the joke-days on our calendars. Second only to April Fool's. Both of which are lost on me. Lost, lost, lost...
There's supposedly a huge party going on tomorrow night in my area of residence, but I'm not very keen on the idea of going. Sure, sure... I'll probably make an appearance, but the fact that most [if not all] of the parties I've attended the end result was being sardined in a house full of drunk people either making fools of themselves and not remembering the next day, or dancing grinding and making-out/practically commencing in the act of making babies. This occurs on a 50/50 basis. And then there's me, sort of standing there mute and astonished while trying to make conversation with the most sober people in the party. This is unfortunate, because the most sober usually equals the minors. Eighteen year olds... Sigh...
"Hello."
"Hello, there."
"Enjoyin' the partay?"
"Oh yes... Immensely."
"Haha, you're funny... And cute... Want to... Go... To my... Place?" Wagging of the eyebrows.
"..." Stare.
"Take that as a 'No'."
Some may refer to me as shrewd, some may call me frigid, some may even result to derogatory/curse words/terms. The reality is that the slander may just be true, but I have this little pet peeve that probably irks some people's unattended morals. I prefer to be in love when I commence in the act of making babies. My heart is too big to hop into the one-time-fling limosine, so I prefer to take the rickety-ride on my life-partner wagon with the square wheels. Call it what y'want. It's how I roll.
"Trick-Or-Treat?", asks the little voice in my head. Well, I guess you could say that Hallowe'en has become more trick, than treat. For me, at least. I can only hope that people haven't followed in my shabby example of festive spirit. I've worn it out, and left it in shambles in my figmental garbage bin where the Easter Bunny lives...
Hopefully by Christmas I'll have regained the blessing of my Festivity Spirit. [And maybe win the lottery...]
Happy Hallowe'en
So, how to summarize an entire month's worth of events and of course, gossip. Being that the duration is a little spread out, and my memories of anything beyond yesterday are a little vague, I think I'll just have to forget about it all for the most part and just continue where I left off with only a minor update.
As for the happenstances of my life, the key highlight would be that I, almost entirely, dropped the whole SFB shenanigan. This resulted from the constant lack of interest in terms of remaining in contact, and keeping a promise of "making it up to me". Failing that, I now only see him in my English Literature class, and breakfast because of a mutual friend issue. And! In all of this there is a positive outcome: I'm cured of all spite!
Then all that's left is the minor social events, the constant studying, the upheaval of my love-life, and the staggering fact that I am almost dirt-poor. If dirt were a means of currency, then I'd be rich. Unfortunately, my debit machine doesn't accept barrels of dirt. Thusly, I'm pretty much at the ends of my financial run. But that's okay! Because when you've hit rock bottom, it forces you to be more creative. I've certainly had a boost on the right-hemisphere and let me tell you... The creative juices are a'flowin'.
That almost sounds gross...
I've thought of various ways that I could make money; like my idea to sell dirt in jars labelled as from different areas in Canada. Unfortunately, most of them fell through. [ie: I don't have the money to purchase said jars.] And most of them were scams anyways... Pan-handling is illegal, isn't it? Oh well, I'll just deal with what I've got and like it somehow.
Onto something equally as disturbing as being poor: Mid-terms. The bane of my existence, [I'm sure I'll be saying the same thing about Finals] and the devil in disguise! For the last week, I'm pretty sure I haven't had a book out of my hands save for going to the bathroom. That would be un-cool. So far, I've made it through the first two without an anxiety attack, and I actually think I did well on both. You never know, though. So I'm keeping my confidence in these two academic achievements to a minimum.
Up next: Art History
Where? 1080 Lecture Hall
When? Noon
I'll bring my guns, and we'll square off when the sun is at it's peak. Bring your cowboy hat, leather chaps, and spurs...
Lady Larkspur vs. Mid-term
In upcoming events, Hallowe'en has drawn near. While I've made minor major efforts to establish a costume [devil horns... and that's all], I'm not really looking forward to the festivities. The past few years, the necessity of Hallowe'en beyond lighting a candle in my window, has been seriously down-graded to eating ice cream with candy corn in it and watching an assortment of rented DVDs. It's a real [personal] shame, as out of all the holidays it's my third favourite. Christmas and Thanksgiving [due to the food] are my favourites.
Festive spirit, where hath thou gone?! I've been abandoned by the Spirit of Festiveness!
Tonight is apparently Devil's Night. My windows are thankfully egg-free, this time around. The significance of throwing eggs at people's windows, or toilet paper-ing their trees has always been lost to my knowledge. I understand it's something to do with trickery. Ha-ha, what a hilarious commodity to the joke-days on our calendars. Second only to April Fool's. Both of which are lost on me. Lost, lost, lost...
There's supposedly a huge party going on tomorrow night in my area of residence, but I'm not very keen on the idea of going. Sure, sure... I'll probably make an appearance, but the fact that most [if not all] of the parties I've attended the end result was being sardined in a house full of drunk people either making fools of themselves and not remembering the next day, or dancing grinding and making-out/practically commencing in the act of making babies. This occurs on a 50/50 basis. And then there's me, sort of standing there mute and astonished while trying to make conversation with the most sober people in the party. This is unfortunate, because the most sober usually equals the minors. Eighteen year olds... Sigh...
"Hello."
"Hello, there."
"Enjoyin' the partay?"
"Oh yes... Immensely."
"Haha, you're funny... And cute... Want to... Go... To my... Place?" Wagging of the eyebrows.
"..." Stare.
"Take that as a 'No'."
Some may refer to me as shrewd, some may call me frigid, some may even result to derogatory/curse words/terms. The reality is that the slander may just be true, but I have this little pet peeve that probably irks some people's unattended morals. I prefer to be in love when I commence in the act of making babies. My heart is too big to hop into the one-time-fling limosine, so I prefer to take the rickety-ride on my life-partner wagon with the square wheels. Call it what y'want. It's how I roll.
"Trick-Or-Treat?", asks the little voice in my head. Well, I guess you could say that Hallowe'en has become more trick, than treat. For me, at least. I can only hope that people haven't followed in my shabby example of festive spirit. I've worn it out, and left it in shambles in my figmental garbage bin where the Easter Bunny lives...
Hopefully by Christmas I'll have regained the blessing of my Festivity Spirit. [And maybe win the lottery...]
Happy Hallowe'en
Monday, September 22, 2008
Blog Entry #2: Vacationing Morale...
...and in his eyes I knew he was the one. As he leaned closer to me with his mouth curved into a sultry smile, I moved closer to him in turn. His mouth was a breadth away from mine, but then he pulled back and screamed...
"FUCK! I SPILLED MY FUCKING DRINK ALL OVER ME!" The words split into my skull, and roused me from my sleep at... Did the clock seriously say it was only 2:38 AM...? I pushed myself out of my half-sleep stupor to pry open the curtains and glower down at my fellow residency occupants while they scrambled around drunkenly; laughing and merry-making. I shut my window, essentially ignored the raucous laughter and found myself back into blissful sleep with my handsome stranger.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzz! The ungodly hour of 7:3o AM. I felt as though I hadn't gotten any sleep during the night, and I now had to somehow drag my ass out of bed and get ready for my nine o'clock class of the awe-inspiring English Literature For Our Time. Now a woman getting ready in the morning greatly differs from a man's routine, as if that's not obvious. Now, my routine differs from everyone elses on the face of the earth.
Let me break it down:
I groan and fuss with the blankets to turn off the annoying alarm clock, meander half-dead into the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth... Pretty normal so far? Well, here's where it gets messy. I turn on my laptop, poke through some of my iTunes, and play the most upbeat annoying song that I can find... And dance. That's right. Dance. I dance doing my makeup, my hair, putting on clothes, making my bed. I dance through it all!
Ten minutes later, I'm entering the chattering classroom and immediately spot the only vacant desk. Remember the mystery girl against SFB's arm? Yeah, well she was there beside the vacant left-handed desk seat, and conveniently SFB himself. Frantically, I searched around but the class was strangely full to the tee. So I found myself seated uncomfortably at the front of the class in this awkward situation.
I received a few friendly hellos. A concerned, "Are you feeling better?", from an acquaintance but I was initially ignored by SFB, since his seat was not next to mine this time around.
My Prof, bless her, is the type of woman that tends to ramble on and on to the point of redundancy. Her lessons consist of going over everything eight times more than necessary. No jokes. No witty comments. No interesting notations. We read, re-read, and read again a select few paragraphs from The Eternal Frontier. After that, we settled down into a close-reading assignment, of which I'm sure I annhiliated any chance of a good mark due to my rustiness on writing in essay format.
At exactly 1o:oo, I burst through the doors without so much as a backwards glance to the torture chamber from Hell. I skirted down the hall, and practically flew to the Dining Hall. I wasn't hungry, but I knew in the back of my head that SFB and mystery girl would show up and for the life of me I didn't want to be eating breakfast on my own because that'd just give them the initiative to sit with me. Like I wanted that.
Banana and Fresca in hand, I was just about to leave when a handsome stranger who lived in the same residence community as me, strode over to say, "Hello." By sheer coincidence, of course. My handsome stranger offered to have breakfast with me, and despite my better judgement, I accepted.
Right on cue, the curtains shimmy open and SFB shows up with mystery girl in tow. It was right when my handsome stranger and I were debating over a vat of sushi that didn't look exactly edible.
"I wouldn't eat it. It's terrible. Heh..." Jests SFB as he walks by, straying for a few seconds as if he wants to have a conversation. Unfortunately for him, my handsome stranger "inadvertantly" ignores him. We decide better on the sushi, anyways, and seat ourselves by a scenic window. My banana was delicious, as always, and after discussing the Russian alphabet with my handsome stranger, we decided it best to head off.
I'm standing up.
I'm leaning forward to grab the leather straps of my bookbag, and in my peripheral vision I can see SFB's gray t-shirt.
As I turn to push my chair back in, my eyes meet his. Green clashing against brown, only there was a hint of something else in those green depths...
Of course, I ignored my intuition and strolled right out of the dining hall without, again, a backwards glance.
And now I sit and wonder, what did that mean?!
Ding Dong: "Awe. :) Someone met a boy. :)"
Not one smiley, but two!. Jealous? Curious? Pleasantly surprised? Sometimes I get a feeling that I over-analyze everything... The only part of that that bothers me is that even though I try, almost everything that comes out of my fingers revolves around someone I'm trying to not have anything revolve around.
The next night, party night, was fog-ridden and moist. Beyond the dew-painted rooftops, I could hear a distant murmur of music. Or rather, I should say, the hum of the bass. My mind, sloshing around and doing the waltz in my head, barely registers that my companions are with me.
Nothing like a drink to forget my woes!
[Confession to alcoholism? No... Not there yet!]
Together, with my head detatched, my companions and I meandered down the snaking path like conjolling zombies drawn to a wayward human as moths to a flame. Only, we were headed towards a residence house party, that we wanted to bust and dance our ways into.
The party was fairly typical, as far as parties go; too many drunk people crammed like sardines in a single room and pouring out into the streets, while trying to dance somehow in the over-crowded space. The prodominant gender of this populace was: Male. So the impending situation shouldn't have come as a surprise to me.
I was making my way across the house to find one of my friends located in the backyard. The only thing between us was the gaggle of dancing, drunken men. Somehow, I managed to dance my way on through. The door was in sight! As I almost reached the door, though, I felt someone brush against my behind. Looking over my shoulder, I catch a flash of a white smile, and hooded eyes. Definitely not an expression one of my companions would've worn.
Luckily, Companion #1 slid in between us and crotch-blocked the guy.
Whew...
My night of false-frivoloty ended with me falling asleep, squished into a wall on a too-small bed with my companions. [And no, nothing happened. Sickos...] When I woke up, I was treated to the most adorable sight. They were curled up, sleeping like two ginormous babies. Luckily I wake early, so I had time to brush my teeth and wash my face before they even had time to think of how awful I look in the mornings! Safe---!
The rest of the weekend flew by, and I found myself immersed back into a freezing cold Monday morning. Only this time, I made damn sure that I was so early I got the bloody seat that I wanted. A right-handed one, too! And while I read The Labyrinth by Kate Mosse, SFB and his entourage pull in. His cavalry situate themselves after he settles down on the desk beside me. Small talk commenced, and then we lapsed into silence while the Prof began her incessant ramblings on Thesis Statements.
"See you later." I said, as I practically flung myself from the room. I barely heard his reply. To be honest, I'm not sure why I rushed off like a bat out of Hell. I'm going to be an English major, not a Psychologist. And I certainly wouldn't recommend a self-analysis! The results may vary.
Ding Dong: "Do you have a class right now?"
Reply: "Yes, I have a class from 11:oo - 1:oo."
Ding Dong: "Oh damn. I was wondering if you wanted some breakfast."
So sue me. I fled from the dining hall just as quickly as I had with the classroom. My excuse: Starbucks withdrawl. Of course, this was a blatant lie. I could barely taste my Caffe Mocha. I need a resolution. I can't let the little Devil on my shoulder to cloud my judgement any longer! [And maybe the little Angel will return from Tahiti...] I will assert myself. I am my own woman, with a good head on my shoulders...
Ding Dong. "Hey, up for a game of scrabble?
Reply: "Of course. Come on over."
Okay, so I'm a weak individual. I just keep digging my hole further. If I continue, I'll be in the depths of Hell with my bad decision making! However, the night consisted of my whooping some ass--- by 65 points --- and trying to man my hormonal fortress simultaneously. It didn't help that he:
A) Came dressed in casual, practically nightwear clothes. [Easily removeable.]
B) Kept making double entendres
C) Tickled me after losing so, so utterly miserably...
After being questioned about the party on Friday, and what my friends and I did, while trying to fend off being kissed... Somehow I managed to assert myself, since this benefit with friends is doing my head in. Seriously, migraines are not fun! SFB agreed hesitantly, but decided to use his more important head, and not the one between his legs. Then basically fled the scene. Really, the sequence of events could be summated into five points.
-Scrabble
-LadyLarkspur 1 ~ SFB 0
-Attempted cuddle
-Rejection / Establishing platonic standings
-Gone
It just may be time to consider new angles on all of this... If only the Angel on my shoulder would return from vacation.
"FUCK! I SPILLED MY FUCKING DRINK ALL OVER ME!" The words split into my skull, and roused me from my sleep at... Did the clock seriously say it was only 2:38 AM...? I pushed myself out of my half-sleep stupor to pry open the curtains and glower down at my fellow residency occupants while they scrambled around drunkenly; laughing and merry-making. I shut my window, essentially ignored the raucous laughter and found myself back into blissful sleep with my handsome stranger.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzz! The ungodly hour of 7:3o AM. I felt as though I hadn't gotten any sleep during the night, and I now had to somehow drag my ass out of bed and get ready for my nine o'clock class of the awe-inspiring English Literature For Our Time. Now a woman getting ready in the morning greatly differs from a man's routine, as if that's not obvious. Now, my routine differs from everyone elses on the face of the earth.
Let me break it down:
I groan and fuss with the blankets to turn off the annoying alarm clock, meander half-dead into the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth... Pretty normal so far? Well, here's where it gets messy. I turn on my laptop, poke through some of my iTunes, and play the most upbeat annoying song that I can find... And dance. That's right. Dance. I dance doing my makeup, my hair, putting on clothes, making my bed. I dance through it all!
Ten minutes later, I'm entering the chattering classroom and immediately spot the only vacant desk. Remember the mystery girl against SFB's arm? Yeah, well she was there beside the vacant left-handed desk seat, and conveniently SFB himself. Frantically, I searched around but the class was strangely full to the tee. So I found myself seated uncomfortably at the front of the class in this awkward situation.
I received a few friendly hellos. A concerned, "Are you feeling better?", from an acquaintance but I was initially ignored by SFB, since his seat was not next to mine this time around.
My Prof, bless her, is the type of woman that tends to ramble on and on to the point of redundancy. Her lessons consist of going over everything eight times more than necessary. No jokes. No witty comments. No interesting notations. We read, re-read, and read again a select few paragraphs from The Eternal Frontier. After that, we settled down into a close-reading assignment, of which I'm sure I annhiliated any chance of a good mark due to my rustiness on writing in essay format.
At exactly 1o:oo, I burst through the doors without so much as a backwards glance to the torture chamber from Hell. I skirted down the hall, and practically flew to the Dining Hall. I wasn't hungry, but I knew in the back of my head that SFB and mystery girl would show up and for the life of me I didn't want to be eating breakfast on my own because that'd just give them the initiative to sit with me. Like I wanted that.
Banana and Fresca in hand, I was just about to leave when a handsome stranger who lived in the same residence community as me, strode over to say, "Hello." By sheer coincidence, of course. My handsome stranger offered to have breakfast with me, and despite my better judgement, I accepted.
Right on cue, the curtains shimmy open and SFB shows up with mystery girl in tow. It was right when my handsome stranger and I were debating over a vat of sushi that didn't look exactly edible.
"I wouldn't eat it. It's terrible. Heh..." Jests SFB as he walks by, straying for a few seconds as if he wants to have a conversation. Unfortunately for him, my handsome stranger "inadvertantly" ignores him. We decide better on the sushi, anyways, and seat ourselves by a scenic window. My banana was delicious, as always, and after discussing the Russian alphabet with my handsome stranger, we decided it best to head off.
I'm standing up.
I'm leaning forward to grab the leather straps of my bookbag, and in my peripheral vision I can see SFB's gray t-shirt.
As I turn to push my chair back in, my eyes meet his. Green clashing against brown, only there was a hint of something else in those green depths...
Of course, I ignored my intuition and strolled right out of the dining hall without, again, a backwards glance.
And now I sit and wonder, what did that mean?!
Ding Dong: "Awe. :) Someone met a boy. :)"
Not one smiley, but two!. Jealous? Curious? Pleasantly surprised? Sometimes I get a feeling that I over-analyze everything... The only part of that that bothers me is that even though I try, almost everything that comes out of my fingers revolves around someone I'm trying to not have anything revolve around.
The next night, party night, was fog-ridden and moist. Beyond the dew-painted rooftops, I could hear a distant murmur of music. Or rather, I should say, the hum of the bass. My mind, sloshing around and doing the waltz in my head, barely registers that my companions are with me.
Nothing like a drink to forget my woes!
[Confession to alcoholism? No... Not there yet!]
Together, with my head detatched, my companions and I meandered down the snaking path like conjolling zombies drawn to a wayward human as moths to a flame. Only, we were headed towards a residence house party, that we wanted to bust and dance our ways into.
The party was fairly typical, as far as parties go; too many drunk people crammed like sardines in a single room and pouring out into the streets, while trying to dance somehow in the over-crowded space. The prodominant gender of this populace was: Male. So the impending situation shouldn't have come as a surprise to me.
I was making my way across the house to find one of my friends located in the backyard. The only thing between us was the gaggle of dancing, drunken men. Somehow, I managed to dance my way on through. The door was in sight! As I almost reached the door, though, I felt someone brush against my behind. Looking over my shoulder, I catch a flash of a white smile, and hooded eyes. Definitely not an expression one of my companions would've worn.
Luckily, Companion #1 slid in between us and crotch-blocked the guy.
Whew...
My night of false-frivoloty ended with me falling asleep, squished into a wall on a too-small bed with my companions. [And no, nothing happened. Sickos...] When I woke up, I was treated to the most adorable sight. They were curled up, sleeping like two ginormous babies. Luckily I wake early, so I had time to brush my teeth and wash my face before they even had time to think of how awful I look in the mornings! Safe---!
The rest of the weekend flew by, and I found myself immersed back into a freezing cold Monday morning. Only this time, I made damn sure that I was so early I got the bloody seat that I wanted. A right-handed one, too! And while I read The Labyrinth by Kate Mosse, SFB and his entourage pull in. His cavalry situate themselves after he settles down on the desk beside me. Small talk commenced, and then we lapsed into silence while the Prof began her incessant ramblings on Thesis Statements.
"See you later." I said, as I practically flung myself from the room. I barely heard his reply. To be honest, I'm not sure why I rushed off like a bat out of Hell. I'm going to be an English major, not a Psychologist. And I certainly wouldn't recommend a self-analysis! The results may vary.
Ding Dong: "Do you have a class right now?"
Reply: "Yes, I have a class from 11:oo - 1:oo."
Ding Dong: "Oh damn. I was wondering if you wanted some breakfast."
So sue me. I fled from the dining hall just as quickly as I had with the classroom. My excuse: Starbucks withdrawl. Of course, this was a blatant lie. I could barely taste my Caffe Mocha. I need a resolution. I can't let the little Devil on my shoulder to cloud my judgement any longer! [And maybe the little Angel will return from Tahiti...] I will assert myself. I am my own woman, with a good head on my shoulders...
Ding Dong. "Hey, up for a game of scrabble?
Reply: "Of course. Come on over."
Okay, so I'm a weak individual. I just keep digging my hole further. If I continue, I'll be in the depths of Hell with my bad decision making! However, the night consisted of my whooping some ass--- by 65 points --- and trying to man my hormonal fortress simultaneously. It didn't help that he:
A) Came dressed in casual, practically nightwear clothes. [Easily removeable.]
B) Kept making double entendres
C) Tickled me after losing so, so utterly miserably...
After being questioned about the party on Friday, and what my friends and I did, while trying to fend off being kissed... Somehow I managed to assert myself, since this benefit with friends is doing my head in. Seriously, migraines are not fun! SFB agreed hesitantly, but decided to use his more important head, and not the one between his legs. Then basically fled the scene. Really, the sequence of events could be summated into five points.
-Scrabble
-LadyLarkspur 1 ~ SFB 0
-Attempted cuddle
-Rejection / Establishing platonic standings
-Gone
It just may be time to consider new angles on all of this... If only the Angel on my shoulder would return from vacation.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Blog Entry #1 - My Life is a Bad Soap Opera
Ding Dong. Text: Hey, what are you up to?
The blue-lit screen of my cell phone seemed to me the equivolent of staring directly into the sun, as I sat re-watching Gossip Girl in my room. There were several options in my option bag, but every notion I plucked out didn't exactly feel right. I had to face the fact: I had to reply.
Let me re-cap a little, to give a little insight as to why I was hesitant.
Rewind the tape to Friday morning, on a muggy autumn day. Classes began, and ended just as quickly in my mind. I was too pre-occupied with thinking about the impending shopping trip to Square One. I had my list set, my makeup done, and well I might not have looked like sex-on-legs, but I was fairly presentable in my own opinion.
Ding Dong. Ding Dong. Ding Dong. Text tag went on for a while, but eventually I found myself on the bus seated next to the handsome stranger whom I was going to find myself immersed in a whole lot of shit-hitting-the-fan with.
To actually describe the shopping trip without bias is impossible. We went from going into the most ridiculously over-priced garbage on mannequins' stores, to the oddest restaurant that I've ever seen, (but presented me with the most delectable hot dog I could have ever ate), and then into Wal-Mart for last minute shit before we left for the day.
Now, onto behavioural studies. I'm not a psychic, but I'm also not stupid. I know in my intuitive processing when something is awkward with someone. Could it have been the fact that during the entire six-hour duration of the trip he was texting someone else? Could it have been the going for a kiss and receiving one on the forehead; similar to when your mother put you to bed when you were five? Could it have been the strange body language, or the half-smiles, or the intense silent treatment sessions that only talking to a tombstone could have compared to?
Well, yeah. Actually, it was all of those things.
I'm not going to lie, I was feeling pretty shitastic by the end of this shopping trip. All the previous excitement built up for this had all but deflated by the time we stepped off the bus and back onto campus grounds. After making plans to obtain a phone call that night to meet up and go to a party, without a backward glance he walked away from me and in turn I went the opposite way back to my place.
Alright, so. I'm not the most socially inclined person so if this sounds pathetic... It probably is. I actually sat at home watching Video on Trial vids on Youtube practically the entire night. By 11:30 PM, I was starting to wonder where the FUCK my phonecall was. So, of course. I called.
"Hello?"
"Hey! What's up?"
"Oh, hey. Not much. Just at a pre-party at Russia's. You?"
Laughter erupts from the background. Anger rises.
"Oh, not much. So, when are we meeting at that party?"
Glaring at innocent pop can of Dr Pepper.
"I'm not sure. I think we're going to be heading over there soon, so I'll give you a call. Okay?"
"Oh, sure. See you then."
"Bye."
"Bye bye."
An hour passes, and still no phone call. So, at this juncture I'm pretty much ready to kick his face into something solid, but malleable like a metal garbage can lid. I send a text that I'm going to bed.
Saturday rolls around, and passes. Sunday rolls around, laundry commences, and somewhere late in the afternoon I receive a text. Miffed at myself for being pleased, expecting an apology, or even to hang out. I get,
Ding Dong. Text: Hey, have you gotten The Eternal Frontier yet?
I have to say, the socks I was folding almost died at this time. Luckily I restrained myself, and saved a pair of socks. So, after practically living through a comedy-romance movie, always in one another's company since school began. I was given the cold shoulder, brushed off, and kicked to the curb like a bubblegum wrapper that was found at the bottom of your purse. Better left forgotten.
Let me be the first to say that despite it all, I wasn't, and still am not ready to be in an official relationship.
However, this did hurt my feelings and subsequentially... My pride. I have a habit of laying down all my cards, and wearing my heart on my sleeves first. Then ask questions later. This is not really a benefit to me, or anyone else for that matter. I usually find people running off in the other direction because of the minor skeletons in my closet
.
Then, only yesterday I find out that he just realized that he had brushed me off a little. JUST. Well, what a crock of shit. So, I told him over MSN how I felt about the whole situation, and received a few apologies and a promise to make it up to me.
Hmph, we'll see about that.
On a side note: To put it eloquently, I aptly named him SFB. Or, Shit for Brains. This nickname occurred to me while I was fuming over the weekend while stories poured in of him taking his shirt off for random girls at a random party.
Miffed at myself again, I knew I hadn't and probably won't for a long time, forgive him. I was just pissed off that I even wanted to try.
Now, back to the present.
Morning comes around. I feel worse than if someone slipped me influenza through an IV overnight. Actually, I'd consider that that's what had happened. Over a series of seven hours, I somehow woke up with my head so hot I was primarily worried that my room was on fire. Only in this, the heat radiated from my face! I couldn't go to class like this! So, I texted SFB and told him something probably in French.
I honestly can't remember... I couldn't make it to class, but I made plans to meet up with him after it was over. I'd have never of made it in three minutes. Not a chance. So, good on my word. I'm there in time for him to come out of the North Building with a beautiful lady on his shoulder.
Don't ask me her name, I'd never remember. It didn't surprise me, because he seems like the kind of person who needs some sort of attention fixated on him from a female visitor. Funny thing, I wasn't even jealous.
So we eat breakfast, and during I give him some of my insight on his behavioural portrayals. I didn't want to, but he forced it out of me. My observations were pretty accurate, but what I really wanted to say is that he could be one cold-hearted bastard when he wanted to be.
Lucky I have some self restraint. We ended up in his dorm room upstairs from the cafeteria, and somewhere along the lines we discussed our issues. Number One: His insecurity on sexual peformance led him to kick me to the side.
"Inadvertantly".
Number Two: Some words I used led him to think I actually wanted a more-than-friend relationship, and this too led him to kick me to the side.
"Inadvertantly".
So, that's on the table now eh? He already knew my feelings on the matter, but I felt I had to tell him that both of those things were a huge mistake to have even considered. We decided it best to be only friends.
Which is essentially what we had always been in the first place. Back at square one, again. It's fine by me, because I know I don't want to give him any more leverage to hurt me like he had before.
Then, stupid human being that I am, gave into temptation. Yet again, again... again. Ahem, again. He kissed me, several times. How can someone hold back when the fundamental basis of your 'friendship' is built up on physical attraction? It's stupid, yeah yeah. It's risky, yeah yeah. It's actually a really fast-paced, rocky, whatever-you-call-this-relationship. Benefit with friend? I can't really call it the other way around, as it wouldn't be correct.
Shit has hit the fan, yet again.
I just hope at some point, I'll find someone who can actually take all the cards I laid down, scoop up every skeleton from my closet, grab hold of all my vices and somehow still love me. Isn't that idealistic?
And so my life continues from this point forth as a really bad soap opera.
The blue-lit screen of my cell phone seemed to me the equivolent of staring directly into the sun, as I sat re-watching Gossip Girl in my room. There were several options in my option bag, but every notion I plucked out didn't exactly feel right. I had to face the fact: I had to reply.
Let me re-cap a little, to give a little insight as to why I was hesitant.
Rewind the tape to Friday morning, on a muggy autumn day. Classes began, and ended just as quickly in my mind. I was too pre-occupied with thinking about the impending shopping trip to Square One. I had my list set, my makeup done, and well I might not have looked like sex-on-legs, but I was fairly presentable in my own opinion.
Ding Dong. Ding Dong. Ding Dong. Text tag went on for a while, but eventually I found myself on the bus seated next to the handsome stranger whom I was going to find myself immersed in a whole lot of shit-hitting-the-fan with.
To actually describe the shopping trip without bias is impossible. We went from going into the most ridiculously over-priced garbage on mannequins' stores, to the oddest restaurant that I've ever seen, (but presented me with the most delectable hot dog I could have ever ate), and then into Wal-Mart for last minute shit before we left for the day.
Now, onto behavioural studies. I'm not a psychic, but I'm also not stupid. I know in my intuitive processing when something is awkward with someone. Could it have been the fact that during the entire six-hour duration of the trip he was texting someone else? Could it have been the going for a kiss and receiving one on the forehead; similar to when your mother put you to bed when you were five? Could it have been the strange body language, or the half-smiles, or the intense silent treatment sessions that only talking to a tombstone could have compared to?
Well, yeah. Actually, it was all of those things.
I'm not going to lie, I was feeling pretty shitastic by the end of this shopping trip. All the previous excitement built up for this had all but deflated by the time we stepped off the bus and back onto campus grounds. After making plans to obtain a phone call that night to meet up and go to a party, without a backward glance he walked away from me and in turn I went the opposite way back to my place.
Alright, so. I'm not the most socially inclined person so if this sounds pathetic... It probably is. I actually sat at home watching Video on Trial vids on Youtube practically the entire night. By 11:30 PM, I was starting to wonder where the FUCK my phonecall was. So, of course. I called.
"Hello?"
"Hey! What's up?"
"Oh, hey. Not much. Just at a pre-party at Russia's. You?"
Laughter erupts from the background. Anger rises.
"Oh, not much. So, when are we meeting at that party?"
Glaring at innocent pop can of Dr Pepper.
"I'm not sure. I think we're going to be heading over there soon, so I'll give you a call. Okay?"
"Oh, sure. See you then."
"Bye."
"Bye bye."
An hour passes, and still no phone call. So, at this juncture I'm pretty much ready to kick his face into something solid, but malleable like a metal garbage can lid. I send a text that I'm going to bed.
Saturday rolls around, and passes. Sunday rolls around, laundry commences, and somewhere late in the afternoon I receive a text. Miffed at myself for being pleased, expecting an apology, or even to hang out. I get,
Ding Dong. Text: Hey, have you gotten The Eternal Frontier yet?
I have to say, the socks I was folding almost died at this time. Luckily I restrained myself, and saved a pair of socks. So, after practically living through a comedy-romance movie, always in one another's company since school began. I was given the cold shoulder, brushed off, and kicked to the curb like a bubblegum wrapper that was found at the bottom of your purse. Better left forgotten.
Let me be the first to say that despite it all, I wasn't, and still am not ready to be in an official relationship.
However, this did hurt my feelings and subsequentially... My pride. I have a habit of laying down all my cards, and wearing my heart on my sleeves first. Then ask questions later. This is not really a benefit to me, or anyone else for that matter. I usually find people running off in the other direction because of the minor skeletons in my closet
.
Then, only yesterday I find out that he just realized that he had brushed me off a little. JUST. Well, what a crock of shit. So, I told him over MSN how I felt about the whole situation, and received a few apologies and a promise to make it up to me.
Hmph, we'll see about that.
On a side note: To put it eloquently, I aptly named him SFB. Or, Shit for Brains. This nickname occurred to me while I was fuming over the weekend while stories poured in of him taking his shirt off for random girls at a random party.
Miffed at myself again, I knew I hadn't and probably won't for a long time, forgive him. I was just pissed off that I even wanted to try.
Now, back to the present.
Morning comes around. I feel worse than if someone slipped me influenza through an IV overnight. Actually, I'd consider that that's what had happened. Over a series of seven hours, I somehow woke up with my head so hot I was primarily worried that my room was on fire. Only in this, the heat radiated from my face! I couldn't go to class like this! So, I texted SFB and told him something probably in French.
I honestly can't remember... I couldn't make it to class, but I made plans to meet up with him after it was over. I'd have never of made it in three minutes. Not a chance. So, good on my word. I'm there in time for him to come out of the North Building with a beautiful lady on his shoulder.
Don't ask me her name, I'd never remember. It didn't surprise me, because he seems like the kind of person who needs some sort of attention fixated on him from a female visitor. Funny thing, I wasn't even jealous.
So we eat breakfast, and during I give him some of my insight on his behavioural portrayals. I didn't want to, but he forced it out of me. My observations were pretty accurate, but what I really wanted to say is that he could be one cold-hearted bastard when he wanted to be.
Lucky I have some self restraint. We ended up in his dorm room upstairs from the cafeteria, and somewhere along the lines we discussed our issues. Number One: His insecurity on sexual peformance led him to kick me to the side.
"Inadvertantly".
Number Two: Some words I used led him to think I actually wanted a more-than-friend relationship, and this too led him to kick me to the side.
"Inadvertantly".
So, that's on the table now eh? He already knew my feelings on the matter, but I felt I had to tell him that both of those things were a huge mistake to have even considered. We decided it best to be only friends.
Which is essentially what we had always been in the first place. Back at square one, again. It's fine by me, because I know I don't want to give him any more leverage to hurt me like he had before.
Then, stupid human being that I am, gave into temptation. Yet again, again... again. Ahem, again. He kissed me, several times. How can someone hold back when the fundamental basis of your 'friendship' is built up on physical attraction? It's stupid, yeah yeah. It's risky, yeah yeah. It's actually a really fast-paced, rocky, whatever-you-call-this-relationship. Benefit with friend? I can't really call it the other way around, as it wouldn't be correct.
Shit has hit the fan, yet again.
I just hope at some point, I'll find someone who can actually take all the cards I laid down, scoop up every skeleton from my closet, grab hold of all my vices and somehow still love me. Isn't that idealistic?
And so my life continues from this point forth as a really bad soap opera.
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