sittin in my bedroom spinnin
February 2, 2000--"Don't drive angry..."Hola muchacos! (Oh yes, notice my deft use of the Spanish language. I'm the freaking Taco Hell Rodent!)
Gah, it's getting so mundane around here. I'm to the point where hearing some gem of 70s rock is the highlight of my day, so you know that's scarring me shitless. Ahh, so I've been slacking off lately haven't I? Um yeah, two months worth I should say. I really do feel guilty about that you know, I sit down half
the time intending to write and then everything just seems so harsh and cold, I'm used to sarcasm but this is plain hateful. The good thing is that IRL I'm experiencing this wonderful meld of highly sarcastic high-school Fiona and perky post-lithium Fiona. It's cool, though some people (like Joe) haven't quite
learned the ins and outs just yet.My classes are going fairly well.
My Spanish teacher isn't all that bad when she's not espousing anti-Castro sentiments and trying to rush us through -ar verbs because she feels guilty for taking up so much time with said Castro nastiness. I'm actually feeling the need to make Berb sheets like we had for Mrs. Sore Ass' class at LHS.
I spend my hour breaks on MWF reading in the hallway of the College Prep building, for now it's Harry Potter. I freaking love these books, expands my British humor all that much more. God help me if I ever hook up with a citizen of the UK though, we'll be an unstoppable duo.
Prof. Weeble's going to get smashed into the pavement very soon for being so damn condescending with his physical science nonsense. It's supposed to be a environmental science class and the only thing I've heard remotely concerning the environment so far is that bit about Superflower. Otherwise it's just atoms
this and gravity that, he asks questions in the manner of the classic, "Bueller....Bueller?" but not quite as entertaining. He asks a question and waits a full two minutes before he figures out that we obviously don't know what in Hezmana he's going on about. Then when one of the Collective Brain Dead, myself included, actually try to answer a question he shoots us down and snidely makes fun of us. Screw squashing him on the pavement, I'm going to see if he really is a human Weeble.Mythology is like a gift from the gods. Hee. I swear it's my one reason for going to school MWF, plus Damerville has that whacked attendance policy where he takes off four points for everyday missed. No wonder I've got great attendance. Plus, I'm trying to weasel my way into the good graces of the critically cute guy, Scott. I guess he's like Erik, only more outgoing and of course he's a smoker. I seem to have a magnet to smokers, as well as the smoke--the infamous Kristin Cigar incident for example.
My lone T/H class, C-MAS, is trudging along. I like it and all but currently I'm just feeling a little drained in there. Must be the evil arrangement of the desks. Though Benedicks' did crack on this Ambercrombie and Fitch guy and his little girl thing (impossibly blond hair and evil little eyes, wears 1985 fluorescent pink nail polish and these god awful green paisley mesh shirts, along with her scary Oakley sunglasses. Can you tell I don't like her?) about buying into the consumer advertising machine. The poor guy was totally outclassed, trying to defend the A & F juggernaut by praising it's stitching. Ha! Like anyone besides June Cleaver would go into an A & F store and comment on how good the garment's stitching was! I laughed myself silly at that.
Work is pretty much hell. My two "supervisors" are preparing for war with each other, and it's going to get pretty nasty. Both of the people that were supposed to be working in there with me as OPS have quit, the biggest loss being June, for her ability to be just as wacky as myself and for not thinking I'm weird
because I wonder how chickens have sex. Plus she was the only one in there besides our main boss and myself that seemed to produce any viable work. Joe, that cute guy in the ESA lab, still comes around and pokes me in the back but aside from my mother telling me he was sick (my response was, "What ma? Am I supposed to show up on his doorstep with a thing of chicken soup and offer myself to him?") that's not going anywhere fast. Not that I mind really. This whole love thing has got me going goofy enough as it is.
karma killer
karma killer.mp3
Nookie. Cuddling. The Big "L". Two words: Screw. That. I realized on Sunday that my two year anniversary of meeting Adam was on the 26th. More than having flashbacks to that ill-fated relationship, it was more about seeing how far I had come in those two years. I'm at this nice little center right now, I'm comfortable in so many ways--comfortable with work, school, my waffling social life--but I'm also comfortable with my insecurities and problems. They're a part of me, I've assimilated them into my make-up instead of fighting against them all the time. But lately it seems like everything is love this, love that. Lectures in mythology, a rabid infection of love songs on the radio, movies, tv; everyone's getting busy. Not that I really want to join them, no thank you. I get goofy enough with harmless boy watching, but it's a constant reminder on just how emotionally and romantically backwards I really am. Inevitably it always comes back around to my non-relationship with Erik the Viking Prince. I have to wonder if I'll ever be free of that baggage, but then I hear VAST's "Touched" and listen to the last line "I'll never love someone like you again," and I realize that hey, I loved Erik, and Adam for that matter, and it's alright. Those two had a massive effect on who I am for better or worse and I still care deeply for them both, but in a way where I'm not emotionally attached to them. My world doesn't revolve around whether Erik speaks to me or not, I'm happy that I've moved up to the Hug Level and I'll leave it at that.On the flip side of the coin is my even less of a non-relationship with Tom. He's that guy I've known since I was five, mortal enemies and all that even though I harbored this secret (or not so secret) hankering for the boy. Our relationship has always been contentious at best due to circumstances I couldn't even begin to fathom. Last year I decided that I wanted to end up in the long run with someone like Tom: stable, secure but caring and funny all the same. Should have known that it was a bad idea when the foremost things (stable, et al) sounded like I was describing a mutual fund.
Anyway, at this last party right before Christmas the infamous Prom Debacle finally came out into the open. Even though Danny maintains that Tom knew about it all along, I still had to explain the whole hilarious story of how the entire senior class (including teachers) were pushing me to ask him to Prom. I think it proved to be a bad move on many levels. First, never try to explain something like that when you have a relationship like Tom and I do. Second, don't explain it when he's drunk and you're explaining it to a room full of people at the same time. So needless to say Tom didn't react well, and I was basically nasty to him for the rest of the night. I was ticked and jealous because he was paying laser focused attention to two other girls who are so the opposite of me it's not even funny. It was like being hit with a brick in the face saying, "Sooo not even! You'll never be able to compete with them!" It's not like I'm better than they are or vise versa, it's just that the three of us are totally different types of people and it comes down to the fact that it Tom's eyes I'm not even in the picture. Now I have to wonder if it's just a Tom isolated phenomenon or if it's pervasive throughout that type of guy. And if it is then I'm pretty much doomed to the chain smoking video gamers. Damn, is that a depressing thought. Eternally stuck with guys that are fourteen years old. Yech.
For the next few days after that party I functioned in a daze. While washing dishes three days later I figured out what it was that was upsetting me so much, I was mourning for the death of a Hope. I had invested all these Hopes in the fact that I could possibly end up with a normal stable guy the likes of Tom and then it came crashing down that the whole notion just wasn't Right. Thinking about it a month later still gets me and it should, it's the death of something very internal. Something I grew all on my own with out any outside influences, but in this case it's also like a dead weight lifted. I now can see hanging with guys that don't fit that neat little mold and in those visions I'm happier and free. It's a nice picture.
I've got a half hour till the Sleepy Bear comes from West Tennessee St. to tuck me in so I'm gonna escape to the world of Hogwarts and Harry Potter. Sweet dreams everyone *hugs*. Ta dearies!