2:45 p.m. - 2004-02-17
brief apology to limited readership
This is just kind of a two-entry day, which everyone will have to just deal with. I feel like my mood today forced this rain on us, just a light one mind you, but it is further irritating me when I'd rather not be.
The Uni post office was out of change of address forms. Which is fine. I've waited this long already, what's another few days. I just ran into one of my mates from London and we had the whole lame 'what's up with you' conversation that I just didn't feel like having because it really makes you stare in the face how sad it is to drift away from people. And how easy.
But weird little things happened, too. I read Ms. N's story, quite the little ball of charm. I wanted to wrap myself up in it, so I did, just for the few minutes before our little class.
There is a boy in our workshop that is such a slice of hotness, it just makes the Tuesdays and Thursdays pass a little more easily. Quite straight, but just looking at him is often reward enough. One visibly erect nipple through his red tee-shirt. Glasses. Hair messy like always. Striped underwear visible just north of his jeans. Hot.
All these little mini-breaks (which always makes me think of Bridget Jones, where mini-breaks are weekend vacations she becomes fixated on taking with her unstable boyfriendo) are exhausting me. All I do is think about how bombarded I am, rather than affording myself the slightest window of productivity.
This story in me now is screaming to be written. I want to take two or three days and spend them idyll, active in front of a computer screen. But my computer doesn't work. Bliss.
I found myself losing control emotionally, which I don't really do in front of people. But I was yelling, with the slightest of provocations. I think I tried to shift the blame, too, which is annoying as shit. If I'm going to get upity, I would rather just take it all on myself rather than putting up too much of a show and then getting someone else involved in my shit. Ugh.
Strong people, resilient people, creative people, human beings...we have to rebuild ourselves every day. I just have to take myself, broken as I am in this string of moments, and make myself new again, even though all I want to do is get stoned, crawl into bed, dodge the world. Read. Think. Eat pbj from my magical sandwich grill. But these are luxuries, weakness for right now. Even righting this, taken ten or fifteen minutes to journal, seems an exorbitance I can't really afford.
