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| I've been busy and avoidant; in that regard, only, basically been up to the usual, heh. It was a rough semester following closely on the heels of another roughy, so I've decided to take some time off from school & work & figure shit out. And write.
In the past few days I've spent maybe an hour or hour & a half total fiddling with this idea that's been bumping around my head the last week or so; it's actually much older, but it's been rehashed some what, and re-rehashed, and I think there was at least one other rehashing. It is, I suppose, a character study. I'm beginning to think that's my main bent in life. In a (hopefully) Euripidean sort of way.
Just before the story opens, there's a horrible pile-up on some interstate out somewhere distant. She loses her mother, he's lost his way, at the least. He's also a hopeless drunk on a very rocky mend, though I don't feel compelled to delve into his drunk-days or sobriety too particularly. (Have you ever known an alcoholic newly in recovery/sober? They can be utterly insufferable bastards during those first few months! That alone seems sufficient.) He's awkward, unsure, sarcastic (but only in his own, often resentful thoughts), a bad liar, and bit of a jackass. She....well, we're still workin on her. But suffice to say she's grieving hard, and he, being a good lil codependent alchie, feels obligated to make her feel better. That's another odd thing about early sobriety for those that don't know--a proclivity for weird emotional entanglements & attachment. Mind you he's not a creeper; he's just a sad, strange little mess of a man.
And that's (more or less) what I've got. Which is more than I'd meant to write for you all; really haven't the time to stay and chat, but if I'm feeling generous later I might type up what little I've actually written so far, but I ought dash off soon.
Oh, there have also been some snippets of poetry; some have morphed into actual drafts of actual poem-like things. Scary, eh? So is me blogging again XD Speaking of which, for various, mostly personal reasons, I'm considering setting up a new blog somewhere; start fresh. Of course, if i do, you all will be the first to know.
Adieu, m'loves . | | |
| So it's starting to get to me--the Fear, the realities and overwhelm of the school year. I'm taking a stress managment course, so hopefully that'll help. You know, as long as I manage to "work in" some time to practice any stress management techniques....
Meanwhile, I've flaked off these last two days' homework time. I'm probably just anxious and running as hard as I can from the Fear. At least it's been in the interest of cool friends...saw a lunchtime movie with one friend and then skipped a class to chill and partake of hookah and later got an early dinner with some other friends and then went on facebook chat for at least a third of my night class.
And all through it, a slight, thrumling headache to irk me off. Oh, no, much as I'd like, poet as I am, to ascribe them to some guilt reflex symbology, I know they're tension headaches. I've been getting them for years--as long as I've been chronically stressed. And they really suck the life & will outta me.
I think when I get home I'll practice some autogenics then call it an early night. I've found freakishly satisfying results with that technique, and apparently participants in studies have reported almost immediate relief from migraines and tension headaches, sooo....
I need to call this new psychiatrist of ours and get a prescription. I need to work out the details with this ADD coach I'm gonna work with--so fucking excited. I need to fill out and turn in those forms for the Honors Society and also that bunch for "life event benefits" activation as apparently I get money for having good grades; who knew. I need to start blogging again, since I miss the outlet. And I need to catch up on my reading assignments and develop my essay topic more and apply to UMD and look for jobs and practice driving and find a boyfriend and suck less ass and branch out my social network and set some goals and start at some point, I can only hope, living my life instead of scrambling desperately through each day.
You might be able to see how life can get overwhelming for me. Cuz it's not just cuz I can show off and catalog innumerable unattended responsibilities--but that even when I try to attend to them, I never know where to begin or how. This is largely to do with my ADD; prioritizing can be a big problem...
Which is why, often, I can only hope for some peace, or whatever. To actually start living, or something.
Anyway, I'll try to keep movin' and quit bitchin' (as much). But Lord knows a poker face only begets a cold demeanor and frigid, if not arrhythmic, heart.
PS: now that I'm home and it's 10:53, i strongly doubt I'll be practicing any autogenics tonight. it's kind of late, and i'm kind of exhausted. fuck my life. >.< | | |
| I'm so sorry to anyone who got sucked into this. For the record, though, Brad had and has never had anything at all to do with lauren cransbee. And even tho it's not worth feeding the real troll behind this, it's actually my fault he got implicated at all. So I want to set the record straight and clear his name; I owe that much justice, at least.
So, all this shit started off all lulzy and cute. Some chick named lauren adds me on facebook with the message “hi cutie. i see you like to party. can I join? ;) ;)”; not even 5 minutes later, she comments on my blog yesterday about checking out guys at starbucks “you're gay? ew”, at which I lawled immensely and approved the friend request. Lawl! A little later, Lindsay and I were lawling over it, and I joked “wouldn't it be funny if it were brad trolling us now that he's got internet again? Haha”. Again, things were still lulzy and cute. We asked some other people what they thought, and they thought it was reasonable. Brad does troll now and then, afterall. But as people talked to eachother about it, the rumor and suspicion grew. The more people talked and speculated, the more certain they seemed and the more certain they got. A variant on the ad populum fallacy--sort of a “if everyone else thinks it's true, it must be true!” But things on facebook had gotten nastier, and the implications worse: 'If it were been brad, this shit would be pretty childish and shitty of him'. And a lot of people had become convinced it probably was him, and were starting to get mad. See, “lauren” was seriously harassing our friend--to the point of being creepy, scary, even infuriating. Real fiendish bitchy stuff, too. Our friend, quite reasonably, got pissed. And when she heard the rumblings suggesting it was brad, she got pissed at him; those two are pretty close, so she was hurt and pissed. It wasn't cute and it wasn't lulzy anymore.
Thankfully, it sounds like our friend and brad are fine now. She believes him, that it wasn't him and that he had nothing to do with it. Anyone who knows him should know he would never hurt a friend like this. Sure, he trolls now and then, but not like this. He's loyal, and goodhearted, nevermind above this kinda petty, hurtful shit. When lindsay and I first joked to eachother whether it might be him, things were still dumb but lulzy. But then--and I really hate this cliche--things got out of hand; people got hurt and defamed, and none of it fairly at all. Normally, I keep clear of drama; I hate this kinda shit. But it was a joke—at first. But I involved a good friend, and he ended up getting seriously shit on and nearly lost a friend, too. So it's the least I can do to at least try to set the record straight. We still haven't figured out who this cunt “lauren” really is, but we'll find him/her, and she's gonna suffer deliciously. | | |
| Wow, if you didn't know me you might assume I were some kinda homophobe from the titles of these most recent posts. Oh well, haha.
{SideNote: So this is the first blog I've composed and posted from my Crackberry, Ze Blackcherry :D}
So I've been sitting here in starbucks (the one overlooking Dupont circle; basically the hotspot for gay caffeine fiends), and there was this rather attractive guy reading a book between making glances at me. So of course I made eyes back at him. I mean, but of *course*. Soon enough, it seemed we'd both noticed eachother's taking notice of eachother, and seem positively disposed to the prospect.
At various intervals we make attempts at approaching. {Interjection: Jesus God, he totally just meandered back by the starbucks, too; didn't he, like, leave for the metro or something...?} Like when he and I ended up in line together; he'd decided to get an odwalla at the same time I was craving marble loaf, see. I'm almost took the plunge to ask what he'd been reading so intently, or do *something* at any of the various junctures of eyecontact, but, alas, too timid were we.
We also both moved around, seemingly attempting to vagar nearer eachother (my favorite spot opened up, and, lo!, empty seats on either side! Who knew that by the time he wandered back from wherever, both seats would have been taken by stubbornly retentive skanks....)
Anyway, fate shined upon us when the fag sitting in the comfy seat next to his leaves. After an hour and a half on a stool and with another hour and a half to kill, I'm thankful for the opportunity for comfort...and the opportunity with Hot Boy, too, I guess....haha
So after I settle in a bit and it's clear we're still trying to make (unsubtle) eyes at eachother, I pop my jaw-droppingly brilliant icebreaker/pick-up line: "So whatchya readin'?" He shows me the cover ("Rules for Radicals"), and then asks me the same. I tell him (with admittedly lame honesty) just some stuff for my PE class tomorrow. And that's the end of it. Like, not even five minutes later he packs, gets up, and gives a (preciously?) meek "take care" or some such, and goes.
Faggots of Fate!! Is that supposed to be, like, fair? I'd imagine one is owed at least some small gratification for the exorbitant energies one has excreted into the chasmic abyss betwixt the particles of this cosmos. Or something. Not even fully 'tit for tat', just SOMETHING. But apparently not.
At least that wasn't exactly the last I saw of him, nor was it the first. I've totally seen him at least once or twice before...like, forever ago.... Lord knows I haven't this kind of patience. Hmwell; faggots, lawl. | | |
| ....or Blackberries, it's one of those, I just know it... Or maybe it's both...?
well, just to prove it, allow me to quote a trusted expert on homokind:
Tophie Palmer can't wait to order himself one of them Blackberry Curve Pinks--cuz lord knows this homo likes his black cherries hot and pink.
That proves it. Totally.
And, I mean, just look at it!
 Who can resist such fabulousness?? Not I. And if the only *real* complaint to be found regards batterlife, well, then I'll just hafta get one of them (remarkably cheap) 'blackberry charging pods' to remind me to charge it every night before bed. And then I'll be checkin email (and posting to my blog, even!) before you know it. Fan-freaking-tastic :) On a less faggotish note, one big reason I'm keen on it is due to is color I'll be less likely to lose the damn thing. I mean--it's shiny. And pink. "Hey have any of you seen my shiny hot pink phone anywhere?" pretty straightforward process from there, haha. | | |
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