lately: I just haven't felt like writing, I suppose, because I feel like I haven't been doing anything, but Sam reminded me, I've really been doing a lot of things worth writing about, and I'm beginning to think that some things just make me overdose on emotion and feel no need to wallow in it, good as it is in some instances. I've had plenty of good talks in the last week, but a lot of the goodness simply lay in the fact that I was glad to be with the people who were near me, and satisfied tremendously by the fact that I can be confident that they were glad to be with me too. I spent a lot of time this past school year chilling with people that were so much fun, and whose company I loved, but who I never really felt like I was sure they wanted me. That I wasn't just tolerated because I was giving one of their friends good head or because I just was a girl and you take those where you can get 'em. Really, too many people around me up there were just so stingy with how they felt about people, and maybe I just get spoiled by my friends here that tell eachother rather frequently how awesome we think eachother to be, and maybe I'm insecure if I need that kind of mutual fan-club to believe in myself, I guess.

But I don't need it. It just makes me happier than anything when I know that people I like like me back.

***

I'm kinda glad that I don't really know anyone named Jane, because I am desperately in love with Sweet Jane and I would feel the need to sing it to her all the time. Which would either get really annoying, or if I pulled it off right, would just make her really uncomfortable all the time wondering if I was in love with her.

la la lala la la la
la laaa la la la
la la laaa la lalala
la la laaa lalala

***

Elena and I! Girls' night out tomorrow night! Or night in, as the case may be, but it's Friday, and we're going to get her smashy for the first time as a Day school alumnus.

I've been trying to figure out what it is about drinking that is so appealing sometimes, esp. when I've certainly been around two of the most drive-you-up-the-wall drunks there are several times in the past month. (And it wasn't just me, buckos! I am maybe a little sensitive to them, but they are also just plain annoying!) I don't think that it's that I want to get my mind off anything, because almost everything I've been thinking about lately is stuff that I like or love to think about. I suppose that I can keep my mind off things that bother me without the aid of chemical substances. (Until some incredible forceful impetus forces me to be around things that make me over-the-top emotional and also, things that I resent more than a healthy person should after 2 years. Sorry to be so cryptic: long story short, I was crying uncrontrollably for an extended duration beginning immediately after my brother's name was called out at the Day school's commencement ceremony. At first because he looked so handsome, and so distinguished, and though he said, "It wasn't that hard, I just had to not drop out," I was prouder of him than I have been of anyone. But when Morgan and Pavel saw me crying, and I tried to smile, to let them know, "don't worry about me, I'm just the proudest sister there is," I just couldn't stop. And it wasn't about him anymore at all. It was me being deadly pissed that I let these people get to me, that I still fall into the social games the second I see the members of my class, that I don't know whether to hate them too for the way that school treats people, and because I don't want to want what they took away from me. It doesn't matter at all to me, and it only does because they took it away.

And I don't like sharing how I feel about this with other people, and it's taking a lot of self-restraint to not 3dd the whole thing. So just... don't talk to me about it. Maybe I'll go get myself a Dreamsicle. But at the time that the Dreamsicle could make me feel better about things, I think it was more the person who bought it for me caring to make me better. Rarely do I enjoy the feeling of people worrying about me; usually I feel guilty that they're wasting emotions feeling bad for me when I don't even really feel bad for myself. But when I feel like I've earned the right to soak in my melancholy, watch out. I'll use it and abuse it, let you take care of me for days, while I just suck it up and sleep for way way too long.

Not that I don't always sleep for way too long.)

Back on the point, I was asked by a smart kid recently why people like getting drunk and acting stupid so much. You can act stupid anytime you want without alkyhol (and actually, when I was in high school and thought I was so above the frat-boy types and party girls, I somehow didn't mind using the point that I was psychotic and moronic enough without drinking... Once, after seeing Foo Fighters and sexy Dave Grohl, a guy in the Marta station came up to us, and asked what on earth I was on that I could be so euphoric and thrilled and giddy and in love and pleased to be in the world. I just grinned and said: "Happiness! You should try it sometime!" He just looked at me sideways and then asked the others in a whisper voice: "No, really. What's she on?")

Dammit! Why is it so much easier (and more comforting) for me to write within parentheses? Perhaps it is my subconscious attempting to answer the question for me. Think about it. I'm through.

***

Oh, man, not much is as good as the excessive quantity of phish I have on my computer. The more is there, the more often the random on my mp3 player reminds me of the sweetest boy I know.

(He's taking me to see 'em! Aren't you jealous? Oh, yeah, you know you are.)

***

Oh, hey, guess what? I'm a moron. Found my pretty pewter lightning bolt on my bureau. Oh, you know, about a week and a half ago. Sorry to have kept anyone in suspense.