At least this time, I made the bad man decision with my eyes open. Eyes held open with the devices that scratched Malcolm McDowell's cornea during the filming of a Clockwork Orange, staring at the fellow himself wearing a shirt that says "I AM A BAD IDEA" who is also verbally explaining this to me. It's a bad idea, I know it's a bad idea, and I was so desperate for the touch of another human being I did it anyway.

It's a good means of bleeding off some excess nervous energy. Just has to be done while mentally repeating the mantra 'don't catch feels, don't catch feels.'

It's easy to not get your heart broken when you don't hand it over to anyone. He can have my body for brief intervals, though.

7th floor, Main library

The view is expansive- the light from the slowly sinking sun painting all with a warm and languid light. As it sets it pulls its offered warmth away, leaving us less colored, loved. A swarm of ladybugs on the windowpane, tiny specks of red aglow with fading light. From such heights the world seems remote & easy to love.

It's amazing how close planes seem from up here.

To look down at birds with the insects is a unique and strange delight. Here the bugs occupy heights the birds do not- asylum in the clouds.

And as the sun descends, the edges of this colorful autumnal world go dark. In that moment just after the sunlight seems to shine with renewed and intense vigor- a final effort before laying down to rest. The slow drain of light from that point on like the gently fading afterglow of a well-spent orgasm. The climax of the day achieved, heat fades as the last glimmers of light brush the tops of the trees as if affectionately running a hand through a lover's hair before drifting off to a satisfied sleep. 

Everything I have is broken. My laptop is on its last legs. If my phone had service to it, it would still barely function: it turns off randomly when you set it down, the sliding mechanism is broken so that it permanently orients the screen sideways unless I hold the side of the screen with my thumb- and it never got internet. My MP3 player with the functioning headphone jack is so old (2004!) that it's run out of writes on its flash memory (which is all anyone can guess is wrong with it, no other suggestions match up to the list of problems) and it is stuck with the music I have on it- can't take any off or put any on. I've tried reformatting it completely, and my laptop says it's empty despite the music content of the player remaining unchanged. The headphones I got as a gift for being at Dial for 3 years broke within 4 months of using them for the first time, and the earbuds a friend gave me as some kind of stopgap replacement are already on their last leg. I have an iPod video from a while back that functions perfectly except that the headphone jack needs replacing (and the battery too, to be honest.) There is no money to fix anything, and very likely won't be any anytime soon. Hoping to get the foodstamps phone in the mail so that I can have a phone number to put on applications for holiday temporary labor to help alleviate the pressures of taking ALL OF THE HOURS at my minimum wage job. Though I guess I'll still have to take the hours, I'll just not be given to a storm of panic when I don't have enough.

Oh, and I'm broken too, turns out. Technician at the plasma center advised me to go see a doctor as the last 3 times I've gone in and tried to donate, I've been turned away from my pulse being too high. Tried several relaxation techniques, getting there in time to have my pulse return to resting- every time they measure it it's over the maximum allowable rate by a considerable amount. After the last time the technician suggested that if what is causing this is anxiety, that it's affecting my heart and I should go see someone about it. It's funny for the lady at the place to sell your bodily fluids tells you to go spend money on a doctor.

People have been pretty shitty recently in my day-to-day life. Feeling generally disenchanted with my fellow human beings and tired with dragging myself through their company. Literal disconnection from the world has left me with a bitter taste in my mouth and a profound depression. There's no light at the end of the tunnel to be seen as of yet- still digging for it.

I currently don't have phone service. This is the reoccurring bill that has the highest charge for the least use. I'm sad because I've had this phone number for a good long while, and there are people who I communicate with solely though it. Since I now receive food stamp benefits, I can apply for a cellphone with x minutes and x texts per month for free, which I'll likely take advantage of in the near future for emergencies.

Causing me to feel even more isolated than I already was.

Been trying to fight off the very strong urge to despair, but something tells me that it only gets worse from this point onward.

Have been reading Dune, because the library is free. I found this passage particularly evocative (if unrelated to the rest of this post): "the tender indignities of physical love, the sharing and communion of selves, the softness and the violence."

Stupid book has been making me cry. I think I love it a little.

Star Trek is all I've ever wanted.

I don't know when why or how I thought a minimum wage job could pay for all of the things I have to pay for. With the smallest loan disbursement yet, and a lower paying job I'm not making it. My parents want me to take over my car insurance, which is fair. But I don't have $75/month for it. Just don't. And that's not even mentioning the heat which will soon have to get turned on and put in my name. My pulse was too high when I last went to the plasma donation place, so I couldn't get the money for that. Went to the grocery to buy food now that my foodstamps card has come in, and hadn't set up my PIN yet. Rather than take the few minutes to call the number and set it up, I panicked and paid with my debit card. So that's money I didn't have to spend.

Still owe my parents for the registration on my car.

Need to take the cat to the vet, because he's scratching himself scabby and it's not fleas. Also there's the cough which they thought was asthma, but I am unconvinced.

Panic tastes like electricity and parental disappointment. I'll figure this out, but I'm not sure how. Already sold all the textbooks the bookstore would take. Got 20$.

Ever since Shawna told me that cinching at the waist always makes you look awesome, it's pretty much impossible to not do it. But also thanks to Shawna, I have enough skirts that I can do it every damn day. And I have been. But I've also noticed an increase in leg muscle size, which is no doubt a result of walking three miles everyday. However, it's also made it so that my one remaining nonripped pair of skinny jeans are uncomfortably tight. So I haven't worn jeans in like a month. The times they are a'changin.

Relented to the pull of cheap cheap coffee near my class. God bless Andrew, the coffee man. I'm sure he has a much deeper life than that, but as it is the only context in which I know him, it seems appropriate. He's been there a while, I've gone there for the last few years every now and then. He is one of those people who is exceedingly friendly, and kind. Today he gave me free flavored syrup in my coffee and it made my day. I know that's silly to even comment upon, but it is a small reminder that there are people who are genuinely nice in the world and that not everything is terrible.

The last few years have been largely romantically uninteresting. That is to say, not much happened, and a lot of what did was regrettable. I walked away from a few situations with a little knowledge and some hurt feelings. Time heals all proverbial wounds, but without a sense of closure it's hard to fully let go/ move on.

The last one, the one who was a bad idea and an expected failure. He was someone I should have fallen for when he lived here. Left me with a very definite sense that we really could have had something. No closure in that suddenly, communication stopped. Was only a matter of time, because distance frustrates romantic feelings for those of us very physically inclined. He has moved on and I wish him well. I can't stop replaying our last encounter in my head, though. Our only encounter, really. It's hard to let go, because I wasn't rejected- not really. Fond thoughts always.

Then there was the fellow who reminds me too much of myself. I see many of my emotional highs and lows in exaggerated examples in him. Substance as emotional crutch, self loathing, constantly moving forward and onward to avoid stagnation. He pursued me. He came to visit me in the age before car, and our constant dialogue was both interesting and exciting. When we became involved, he was in the end throes of a long relationship that I know little about. I left for a weekend to go to NYC, the first weekend in a month we weren't to spend together. Was absolutely silly for him, bought him a print of an artist I knew he liked at the MOMA. When I came back, everything was different. I assume that for a time there, he became resubmerged in his endstage relationship. Brushed me off. Ended communication for the most part, but not completely. The cruel part of the way it trailed off was that not once, but twice he asked to come see me only to stand me up. Made sure not to make any plans, because I was excited. Though fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. The next time he tried to contact me, he seemed in earnest. Asked to come visit me that evening, but as fate would have it this was the night of my first date with H. Decisively responded with 'no' and didn't hear from him for at least a year.

He's struck up conversation with me recently, which made my heart beat quicker. For months afterwards, my friends had to clean up the mess that he left me as. Since he rejected me in such a flakey, roundabout way I never really let myself get over him. I thought I did, but my reaction to polite conversation has taught me otherwise. And the matter-of-fact part of me insists that recent conversation has been nothing but impulse on his part. He couldn't know, and if he did I doubt it'd matter. Bitterly annoyed with myself that I got SO EXCITED to hear from him for a few minutes.

Ghosts can talk, but they don't know they're ghosts. Haunt without realization. He'll forget about me again for a while now. I wish he wouldn't.

doin' the unstuck.