There should be a special term for the act of looking at pictures of happy couples you know while feeling depressed because you're sure that you're going to die alone.

But seriously some of the worst people I've ever met are on their like, 6th engagement? How can they fool someone into loving them that many times? Or maybe they're much better people than I am. Maybe I'm the bad person, and that's why nobody can love me.

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.

Making out is what I miss the most. All the other dirty things too, but that one most of all. Warm breath, lip biting and restless hands. The other-person smell. All of it. It's magic stuff that I dream about.

Was given some excellent advice by two classmate friends yesterday in regards to the fellow: sack up, if it's no then you no longer have to worry about him. So I initiated contact. Was not rebuffed! But I'm not holding my breath on anything coming of it. Still, new things by the day. Building a better me.

Got subpoena'd today. Was hoping that I might just be able to provide a deposition, but I will have to be cross-examined, sworn in and all that jazz. This is a nightmare that I was hoping was gone, but hopefully this will be the nail in the coffin on the issue. The most stressful thing is that I'll have to be in the same room as that... thing that did this to my mother. I've been warned by the District Attorney (who is prosecuting the case, no less) that eyeball's attorney is well known for winning his cases by discrediting the witnesses, the police and basically anyone bringing charges against his client. They warned me that he's a bully and will try to cut me off, will ask the same question repeatedly until he gets the answer he's looking for, and is quite generally a lovely person.

Also, a cute fellow posted a CL missed connection about me last week. It made me feel pretty special, and maybe I should have left it at that. Of course I contacted him, and we hung out briefly on Friday evening. After Friday I've yet to hear back from him, and I don't expect to. Apparently I don't live up to expectations. -pout-

So life is pretty great right now. Three 'till-midnight shifts a week, in a row. Starting today.

I feel so alone I sat and cried for a minute. At work. I still feel really alone. What am I supposed to even do?

I did something new yesterday. It was nothing huge, but my Torie and I went to a yoga class. I was reminded of the weakness of my wrists, but all in all it was very peaceful and I feel healthy and a little more limber the next day. Put my tails back in, hair-wise. The little blonde stripes I used to have last time my hair was this long. Freshman year of college, I think. Cut it and dyed it bright orange sophomore year, then there were the RS years etcetera. In fact, I think my hair life is documented per this blog. I have had this blog for a long time.

By the way, I know that attraction is built on a lot of factors. The possibility exists that the change in ways guys react to me has nothing to do with my hair, but I suspect that it at least has something to do with the length of my hair. When it was boyshort, I only got laid by people who had already had sex with me before I cut it. Or were J, and liked androgyny and short hair (I suspect.) Except one or two who didn't stick around. And B, who was a lovely man, but I got the feeling that he was not shallow enough to be concerned about appearances. Gave you the feeling he really saw you, you dig? Like that person who you want around during a strong trip, who understands and only wants to show you the way. I digress. Not that I've broken the hiatus or anything, but the number of interested male counterparts is far more than before. Location probably also has something to do with it. Babble babble.

Coffee.

It's always enlightening when one of your close friends tells you frankly the way they view you while drunk. Because they're perceptive, they know me. And they didn't tell me anything I don't already know anyway. She made sure to preface it with an assurance that I shouldn't be offended.

She told me that I am the squishiest, non confrontational pushover she's ever met. And she's met a lot of people. This is a totally fair statement, and I wasn't offended. But it is very much in conflict with how I present and think of myself. I just don't like yelling. It makes me very anxious.

I can remember this being the case ever since I was a child. When my parents argued, they did so loudly and often. Nothing shakes your world like your parents going at each other. They tried to do it in their room and stay quiet, but I'd always sneak down into my sister's room to listen, cry and whisper the D-word fearfully.

There are some things that you can only really say aloud, as when entered without context or inflection online they can sound a lot different. While this is pretty 'duh,' I bring it up to reference something specific.

Whenever anyone loses something, almost without thinking I'll ask: "Did you check in your butt?" Which is naturally hilarious the way I say it, and I'm sure no one is sick of me responding in this manner. (Wink wink)

Someone on facebook posted that they lost their debit card. I had "Did you check in your butt?" entered into the comment box and was about to hit enter when I realized that by itself, might seem like a dick thing to say. Add that to the fact that I don't hang out with the girl who posted it, and she's never heard me say that. Not that she would jump straight to offended, but it would have registered on the 'inappropriate' scale.

Man my job leaves me with massive amounts of free time in front of a computer. This could be bad.

So the avatar of this semesters' lust is, naturally, dating a ghost from my old program. Just another reminder of how I should have not quit out of school when I did. Should have not taken a year off, running from both the pressures of producing art in an academic setting and the social shunning I'd become subject to. For a year, I'd take the long way around when going places, so I didn't have to confront-by-proximity my shame. That is not to say that this is a regret of mine. I learned a lot the year I took off, but I left a lot of baggage in my old major. Even the friendliest ghosts from that era still leave me with a chill, and the one who is dating the pretty one is far from Casper.

Of course, confronting the fact that I won't be able to pin my affections on this one made me realize that my feelings had very little to do with the man himself. He was the most pleasing to the senses that I encounter on a regular basis, but I've never spoken to him. He could be anyone, but baser impulses like these are more easily worked out when they have a focus.

That being said, I endeavor not to pin it all on proximity men any longer. Or anyone.

I need to stop doing that thing where I fall desperately in lust with people so easily.

Especially with blonde men. I don't do it on purpose, but the last several have been blonde. This one combs his hair back with hairgel or whathaveyou and smiles a bit like a wolf. I like him very much immediately. Internetvestigation has taught me that we have friends in common, and the people that we have in common suggests to me we might get along rather well.

Mprrrrrrph. Okay. I'm done. If I can vent my barely-restrained lusts then I don't have to act on them. Right?

This move has been physically and emotionally exhausting. The house is in really shitty condition. The landlord is doing everything I believe he has the ability to do to fix things, with repairmen visiting often. I get along well with my roommates and I feel the place has charm. We're still not done cleaning, and I need access to a ladder.

My grandfather died of liver cancer a week ago. I haven't heard more on the arrangements, but the funeral is bound to be soon if there's to be one.

School starts on Monday. My last day of work at Dial America was yesterday. I didn't stay the whole time.

Haven't let my feelings catch up with me yet. There will be a crippling day soon where it all hits at once, but not today.

Surprise Interview

Have I mentioned before what wonderful beings I have in my life? There's this one in particular named Germaine. First of all, cool ass name. Second of all, I don't even remember precisely how I first met her, but she has been nothing but amazingly kind and generous the entire time. This interview at her place of employment that I have this morning isn't even the third thing she's done to help me out. She's rescued me from my wallows and dragged me into the social sphere. Given me a place to rest my weary, costume'd head. Picked me up and drove me to and from parties she's thrown, way before I had a car. I don't believe I've ever been able to contribute in such a positive way to her life as she's contributed to mine. The last five years of my life would be widely different if it weren't for her. And she's the sort to modestly wave off any slobbing thankfulness too. This may be the closest I can come to thanking her in complete sentences. Had I tried to do this in person, she would smile graciously and suggest we get a coffee.

She also has awesome hair.

As I get ready for this interview I have ONLY because she made it so, I feel secure and stronger for the fact that I have someone like her in my life. I can only hope to be as good to those around me. Life inspiration.

grph.

all any of us really want is to be loved.

I miss feeling wanted. Dressing up with the understanding that someone else would take off my clothes. Special matching underwear and words written across body parts, secret messages for later. I miss intimacy and understanding. I miss the smell of dried sweat on skin, and when more than just the wind tangled my hair.

Most of all I miss being touched. Nothing makes material existence as real or as blissful as the arm around your waist from behind. Someone else's hand through my hair.

It's been a year since I had someone around. Been on a pilgrimage of sorts. Trying to be a better person. Trying to learn to love myself.

Learning to accept my flaws and limitations. Finding joy in small moments. To sleep in a way that occupies the entire bed. Went through my handkerchief drawer and was mildly surprised to find my pair of handcuffs.

Don't know much about what I want from life. But I want it to have love. Most of all, I want to be in love. 

July, or, the month of getting shit done.

This month I have to pack up my shit and move again. This will likely be my last house in Athens, assuming I can graduate this year. Everything looks good for that to happen. Maybe one or two more in thru session next summer, but I want to be in Atlanta or somewhere other than Athens next Autumn.

Just got cleared for the major with ARHI, should be able to have my choice of the remaining 4000 level courses to finish up the credits I need. I've already eaten my vegetables in this respect; having taken all the classes I didn't want to take, all that remain are the good ones I'll want to spend my attention on. When it's all said and done I do love my subject. It is something about which I can be passionate. I wish my passion had a lot more career prospects. Especially with that minor in Philosophy. I mean wow, employers are super gonna want a piece of this.

Going to throw a lot of things out when I move this time. Shake out a lot of the dirt of this funk, I hope.

as I feel entitled to say, surly drunk that I am: bah humbug to loving couples and their happiness. As happy as I'd like to be for all of you, I'd prefer you kept your joy/love to yourselves so that I don't have to fight dry retching in public. Feels a little hateful, but I'm running on an empty tank, I am.

I hate it when things feel more significant for me than for other people. When you finally realize that they don't think about you, it may be the most isolating feeling I could name. Hammers the point home when they get permanently paired off with someone else soon afterwards. Stings bad, but I tried to tell myself I knew what I was getting into with that. Stupid to be sad. Trying to manually override the urge to be melancholy, but I feel profoundly alone in this moment.

I'm so stupid.

Driving around with cancelled registration because you don't have the money to get your title transfer completed is terrifying. 3 weeks and counting.

sometimes I can taste my death like a candy bar

Need to create something, bring something to life.

There is so much beauty in the world, and I just want to add to it.

Breathing embers to long-dead leaves, something soon most certainly spark.

Maybe it was getting stoned and singing it at unreasonable volumes for the hour, but that song that was so popular a few months back will probably always remind me of H. That was the most recent relationship I've had, I suppose. Ended about a year ago, of the fast and furious sort.

It was almost prophetic. Now you're just somebody that I used to know. Even at the time, I knew that it would soon be the way we felt about each other. He wasn't right for me, nor perhaps me for him. But that stupid video will always make me think of him and my dingy blue couch.

And that first night. How after we went out on the porch to smoke a cigarette and you wrapped your arm around me from behind. That was one of those rare moments.

Forgive me, I grow sentimental.

today is a day to sit in my room and be sad. I might listen to my sad music, light all my candles and croon softly to the cat.

sometimes I realize that I'm not the right person to live out my dreams. The person I've always seen myself dying as is so different than the person I am that I'm not sure I was ever meant to bridge that gap.

though somewhat romanticized, I always thought I'd get married and have kids. maybe it's just hard to imagine that because I haven't been with anyone I'd want children with. either way, I don't have to work tomorrow due to holiday. I might as well have a good mope.

ooh, coffee's done.

Sometimes when things are definitely, comfortingly over with another person I've discovered that it's easier to put memories of the person to rest. None of them ever go away, really, but they don't haunt or take up much dream space.

Oh but the ghosts, they find us.

Goddamn, I hadn't thought about you in a while.

Part of me will always wish I was short enough to wear heels often, as they're so fucking hot.

That part of me is not my feet.

It's nice to be tall enough to reach your own shit on the top shelf and strong enough to open your own jars.

It feels as though I should mention something about my new place for next year, as this has been the focus of much of my attention recently. After a few sessions of checking the flagpole, driving around and writing down  phone numbers my future roommates and I had a moment of sheer luck. We were hoping to get a place within walking distance to downtown, as two of three occupants of the house will be working downtown (I'm the 1/3). As fate would have it, we lucked into a lovely place on Pulaski with a fellow who only wants someone in it, first come first served. The other people who called before us didn't follow up, and we've found ourselves in a dream house. It's the perfect old Athenian house I wanted to live in once before I left. Wood floors, high ceilings, washer/dryer and dishwasher and two of the loveliest ladies to live with I could have hoped for.

It's okay to be alone. Been doing it for long enough it doesn't make me sad or uncomfortable. That being said, tonight I'm starting Star Trek: The Next Generation season one, episode one.

But turns out it's a movie, so I'm going to drink most of this 3 dollar pint of terribly whiskey in a plastic bottle and stay up wayyy past my bedtime.

Today at work, I submitted my resume for a higher paying position. I also talked to an artist who works at LucasFilms call to set up credit card processing for his trip to Germany for a SW convention. My head almost exploded. No joke.

Statistically speaking, some of us have to be worthless pieces of shit, right?

I'm comfortable with my physical appearance for the most part. I've settled into the shape I'll likely stay unless I let myself go, which is fairly aesthetically appealing. I'm past the part of my life where I need to show cleavage or wear a short skirt to feel sexy. And I'm even getting used to being the friend who holds your beer while you go play darts with the guy who is hitting on you. Bars are decidedly not my thing, at least not the bars in this town. Perhaps I'm harsh in my judgements, but I can't say I've ever met anyone in a bar that became important to me. The sort of people I'm attracted to, or at least, who are attracted to me, won't meet me in a bar.

Having been reminded I'm still capable of that deeper intellectual and emotional connection with people has made it so I can't bring myself to spend time on someone I don't have that with. You're out there somewhere, I know it.

I can wait.

When I say that I feel lost, that is not to say that I have no support system or caring safety net. I feel the concern of my friends and family as almost obligations to improve my situation, if only so they don't worry so much. It seems important to be moving forward, working towards something. Currently, this is finishing school for as much good as it will do me. But something is missing, something feels wrong. In my search for greater purpose or meaning in life, I've found nothing. I'm almost a quarter of the way through my life, and I don't know what I want it to be about. I'm struggling to shrug it off and put the best face forward. Something feels off.

The next month promises to be a turbulent one. In one month's time I believe I'll be finished with my finals. Which means I should begin looking for a second job immediately. To avoid having to provide their employees health insurance, like many companies, they are shifting towards a part-time workers only format. I couldn't hope to get more than 30 hours, and that's simply not enough to live on. Not to downplay the final exams themselves and all of the work that lies between the end of the semester and right now. In a mere week I need to have a 20-minute presentation on an altarpiece, which is only the predecessor of the 15 page paper I have to write on the same work. Then there's the actual final for that class, the final for Logic (!) and German may also be tricky. Marine science likely won't get super studied for. In August I'll move again, and I plan to give myself adequate time to organize and pack. The summer is blissfully free of a lot of obligation.

Things seem to be going well for the people I care about, which brings no small amount of ambient joy. This season is too much like summer for my taste. Hopefully I only have a few Georgia summers left. Need to shake off the dirt of this town; twenty two years worth is enough.

Sometimes circumstances seem almost cosmically unfair.

I am frustrated, discouraged and am trying very hard to not project my negative emotions onto those around me. The biggest part of maturation (that I have encountered thus far) has been learning to control my emotions: though I cannot always control the things that happen to me, I can control how I will react to it. Today was difficult for me- one of the sort where no one thing that sucks is terrible enough to be the reason the day is awful, as they all build on each other to create a layer cake of misery. But being able to look at the whole situation even slightly objectively makes me feel, on top of everything else, ashamed at my own frustration. 

A sampling of events of the day include:

- seeing someone I like with their new lover. A reminder that shyness is nice, but shyness will stop you from doing all the things in life you'd like to. 

- getting my logic exam back with more grading pen-marks than I'm used to seeing. Makes me feel stupid for the small mistakes I made (constituting most of my cumulative errors), discouraged as I wasn't as prepared as I thought I was, and annoyed at myself for being unable to be happy with a B. I still have an A- in the class, so I shouldn't be as upset as I am with the results of the exam. But I'm concerned.

- an asshole I once expressed interest in (interest that was spurned, pointedly and repeated beyond the time where the point was gotten) now constantly places himself in my proximity, as if daring me to look at him so he can dickishly reject me again. Just fuck off, man.

- in the crowded lecture hall today for the exam, I had an empty seat on each side of me.

- I've been up since 6AM. 

- I hate everything forever. 

So, while I know my problems aren't real problems and I don't feel like I can express them to anyone, I am also annoyed with myself that I'm having this reaction in the first place. 

Someone I knew wrote a really moving piece about how actually getting to know someone is like having the separating wall of glass between you suddenly lifted. About how it can take your breath away and surprise you with its honesty, and how difficult it is to ever achieve that sort of familiarity with anyone.

I think I've known a small handful of people like that in my life, even among those I've been romantically attached to. It's a connection worth striving towards. 

They say when you're more biologically compatible with someone, they smell better to you in particular than they would to anyone else. What does it mean if somebody smells better than anything? 

So a few months ago, a friend of mine almost let his jaw hit the floor when I corrected him on my sexuality. He began the conversation rather excitedly, insisting that he had someone he wanted me to meet. This being a friend I would trust to match me with someone at least reasonably interesting I ask for him to go on, at which point it is quickly made apparent the person he intended to set me up with was a woman. When I explained that I was straight, even though I could have sworn he had known that, he seemed shocked beyond the capacity for speech for a scant moment. While I've certainly been mistaken for worse things, being mistaken for a lesbian by a friend I found pretty attractive stung a little.

Leads me to wonder- do many people assume this about me? This incident occurred right after my last haircut, so perhaps my boyhair was sending different signals than I meant it to. Who knows.

Me and my gender identity are good pals at this point. We've tried out a few options and settled in where we are. But there is no going full woman once you've worn a cup in your jeans for a while. Not that I was ever fully the most feminine thing to ever happen, but being a girl seemed weird, vulnerable and difficult. I now paint my nails, draw things on my face with makeup and have a dress or two in my closet. It's taken me a while to form into a person at peace with both parts of my personality.

Very complex issue glossed over for brevity's sake.

There is something deeply spiritual about discovering new musical love. This newest, strangely engaging love of mine speaks to my queer little boygirl self and somehow makes me feel a part of something common to a number of people. It makes me feel connected, and unalone. It's beautiful and perfect and lovely.

Something just happened to my family that could not be more ridiculous were I to add on untrue fantastical details. It included SWAT, a rifle with a laser sight, the fire department, the hospital, 5 hours of nonstop harassing phone calls, an eventual arrest and a freakout in a car. There was a story in the paper about it. I cannot believe something like this actually happened.

You never really grow out of being that weird kid. Was hoping for at least a partial fading of my awkwardness with age, but no.

I never really go anywhere except work and school. Bars are lonely places unless you go with friends. And the whiskey here doesn't have water in it. Haunt coffee places looking concerned at logic homework and googling translations of german words with too many syllables.

My dreams have been of a particular caste recently. All warmth and good-smelling, lots of tumbling around. Strange how we let ideas get the better of us. They slip in when you're not paying attention and lay eggs of sneaky desire in your brain.

I need to do well in this logic class for a number of reasons. Chiefly, I need this class to satisfy the Quantitative reasoning credit or some such. It will also allow me to finish up my Philosophy minor. Most importantly though, it will allow me to prove to myself that I can do something that is hard and has defeated me before. Had the first exam yesterday, and felt prepared enough to over-answer in a few places. Really hope that this goes well this time.

Poetry used to really be an important part of my life. It found me early, as I can remember the construction and printer paper books we'd make and how I would ask to stay in during lunch so I could write. For me it has always served a necessary function, a more cohesive way to work things out than any sculptures I made. Reading one's own work serves as more of a diary entry than the most blunt and poignant one to my name. Writing is a thoughtful, contemplative and patient exercise. It's no wonder I haven't written anything in a while.

Bought a pretty little journal to encourage myself to put ink to paper, to draft, something. It used to be such a part of who I was and how I viewed myself, but photographs were as well and I find myself without camera or robust body of work.

The first real infatuation with anyone I ever really had was over his words. He was/ is the strangest bird. He lives in town now, and I always hope to bump into him. In early early high school I met him, much older. He was a poet, a singular man the likes of whom I've seen nothing worth comparing to. He's also a musician of sorts. He had a CD that he gave out for the drama club senior dinner that year, which obsessive high school me pretty much knew by heart by the end of the summer. Somehow what he wrote communicated for him, and only hinted at the strange and fantastic things he had inside of him. Wrapped a string from a shirt of his around a plastic bracelet, painted it with clear fingernail polish and did not take it off until senior year, where I sort of broke it off of my arm in a ceremonial giving up of childish ways. Luckily we are all weird things. I want to be able to use poetry to help me communicate again. There's so much I feel like I wouldn't get to say otherwise.

The day-night seems brighter to us
the moon behind the choke of clouds
the dark, it beams at us in waves
gin-soaked colors beat out our new allegiance.

There are many recurring things in my dreams, but the least common of these is places. I see the same people, the action even will be the same, but rarely the same place. Now I've dreamt twice of this hotel. It's on a beach somewhere, and it seems I'm always staying on the very top floor. I remember it as having 41 floors: you could either take the elevator that went so fast it made me dream nauseous or take the escalator up to the top floor which took forever. There are a lot of windows, and a lot of blue. I remember a pool outside. I wonder if I'll go there again.

Why is it that attraction to one's instructor makes paying attention easier? Or harder, I'm not certain yet. Sometimes I lose track of what he says when he's talking, because he talks with such a delightful accent. Pretty longhair'd men are my Achilles heel.

This semester is frightening. Retaking a class once failed, a science, a high-level class for my major and a language. But at the end of the second week, I am cautiously optimistic. More on this as it develops.