arbitrarily paragraphed

I'm meeting Junkyard's girlfriend tomorrow.

This fills me with anxiety, both about whether or not she will like me and whether or not I will like her. I've had awkward and traumatic moments in the past regarding close friends and their significant others, and I know a little bit of it is my fault, because some part of my fondness seems all wrapped up in a belief that a significant other would need to possess nearly-saintlike qualities in order to be deserving. And while I'm probably mostly unreasonable in this, I do try to temper it with a little reason, and I still call Mech's girlfriend Saint even though I know she doesn't like cats and has moments of exasperation with Mech, Media and myself. This also has, in the past and occasionally to the day, poses problems to me personally, since Light is my absolutely favorite person in the world, and so I think he deserves someone as awesome as he is, and my self-esteem is not exactly up to the task of considering myself that person.

I'm going out to Boston for the day in order to meet her. The meeting-time is just a dinner date, but it seems foolish to drive all the way out there just for dinner, so I've proposed to Light we try to find some additional activities on that end of the state. Currently, (probably mostly due to the fact that I am in a veritable abyss of depression) the only thing that seems even vaguely interesting is going to Penzeys to purchase a merit fuckton of chile pepper. I'm a little bit tempted by the MoS, but I can't seem to get over the hurdle of the idea of being around all those children. (it's also the Saturday that begins school vacation, and while Light thinks that probably won't herald any more children than usual, I'm afraid it will).


Last night, while Light was getting a haircut, I roamed downtown Northampton and ended up purchasing a handful of books at Raven (including the highly recommended Persepolis 1 & 2 and Angela Carter's Sea Cat and Dragon King. I then retreated to the Haymarket and in a fit of comfort seeking, ordered a steamed milk with a shot of almond in it. I confessed on the way home to Light that my single strong, positive memory of college is drinking steamed milk with almond flavoring in a little café that I don't remember the name of at the SEPTA stop. I'm sure I have other positive memories, but they're either tinged with the subsequent and related defeats, or forgotten entirely. I'm tempted to go dredging, run chains along the bottom of the lake and try to find another time I was happy there, because it can't possibly be true that I wasn't, but I imagine even so, I'd find more decaying things than treasure

I'm combining all the worst parts of being restless with all the worst parts of being miserable, so I never want to leave my house, and yet I also feel like I should be up and about doing something and I beat myself up when I either don't want to or just plain don't. In the end, I think I'm more messed up by my aunt's death than I had expected to be, and I'm adding a heaping side of messed up about maybe-moving to an already full plate. I don't deal well with dashed hopes, so I try not to hope for much, but all that leads me to do is to expect the worst, and I'm overly good at imagining ways in which I can fail.

I'd like a less complicated relationship with change, please. This craving something and viewing it roughly like an impending collision with semi is less than fun. I really do need to get cracking on this next tattoo. All the others have helped me at crisis points, I imagine this one will too.

arbitrarily paragraphed

I'm meeting Junkyard's girlfriend tomorrow.

This fills me with anxiety, both about whether or not she will like me and whether or not I will like her. I've had awkward and traumatic moments in the past regarding close friends and their significant others, and I know a little bit of it is my fault, because some part of my fondness seems all wrapped up in a belief that a significant other would need to possess nearly-saintlike qualities in order to be deserving. And while I'm probably mostly unreasonable in this, I do try to temper it with a little reason, and I still call Mech's girlfriend Saint even though I know she doesn't like cats and has moments of exasperation with Mech, Media and myself. This also has, in the past and occasionally to the day, poses problems to me personally, since Light is my absolutely favorite person in the world, and so I think he deserves someone as awesome as he is, and my self-esteem is not exactly up to the task of considering myself that person.

I'm going out to Boston for the day in order to meet her. The meeting-time is just a dinner date, but it seems foolish to drive all the way out there just for dinner, so I've proposed to Light we try to find some additional activities on that end of the state. Currently, (probably mostly due to the fact that I am in a veritable abyss of depression) the only thing that seems even vaguely interesting is going to Penzeys to purchase a merit fuckton of chile pepper. I'm a little bit tempted by the MoS, but I can't seem to get over the hurdle of the idea of being around all those children. (it's also the Saturday that begins school vacation, and while Light thinks that probably won't herald any more children than usual, I'm afraid it will).


Last night, while Light was getting a haircut, I roamed downtown Northampton and ended up purchasing a handful of books at Raven (including the highly recommended Persepolis 1 & 2 and Angela Carter's Sea Cat and Dragon King. I then retreated to the Haymarket and in a fit of comfort seeking, ordered a steamed milk with a shot of almond in it. I confessed on the way home to Light that my single strong, positive memory of college is drinking steamed milk with almond flavoring in a little café that I don't remember the name of at the SEPTA stop. I'm sure I have other positive memories, but they're either tinged with the subsequent and related defeats, or forgotten entirely. I'm tempted to go dredging, run chains along the bottom of the lake and try to find another time I was happy there, because it can't possibly be true that I wasn't, but I imagine even so, I'd find more decaying things than treasure

I'm combining all the worst parts of being restless with all the worst parts of being miserable, so I never want to leave my house, and yet I also feel like I should be up and about doing something and I beat myself up when I either don't want to or just plain don't. In the end, I think I'm more messed up by my aunt's death than I had expected to be, and I'm adding a heaping side of messed up about maybe-moving to an already full plate. I don't deal well with dashed hopes, so I try not to hope for much, but all that leads me to do is to expect the worst, and I'm overly good at imagining ways in which I can fail.

I'd like a less complicated relationship with change, please. This craving something and viewing it roughly like an impending collision with semi is less than fun. I really do need to get cracking on this next tattoo. All the others have helped me at crisis points, I imagine this one will too.