When it rains...
My uncle, at 10:15, sashays up to our front door and welcomes himself in for a late evening of win(e)ing and whining with my father. As of now, he still has not left. My mother, as always, is fuming mad, and sitting in her bathroom, staring off into space like a cat, planning Roy's demise. Aah, the beauty of it all.
He has set the (tentative) date for his betrothal. I would love to take Theo with me as a date.
A record of the life and times of one brown shirt-wearing university student, struggling to escape his fear of intimacy, overcome his hunger for eternal supremacy in every aspect, and never have to write a description of his life like this again.
Thursday, January 31, 2002
I had an afternoon to remember at Theo's house. My first shower experience proved to be awesome and unforgettable--the water cascading over theo's hair and adorable body...his mouth...amazing. I love kissing him, and I'm getting more comfortable with the whole "dominating" schtick.
While at Theo's, I met his friends James and Eric, two fellows that proved to be much cooler than Theo had let on. As always, I was sweaty-palm nervous, but I think the conversation (aside from Theo's marijuana-induced paranoia) went really well for a first meeting.
I also happened to come across an old picture of Nick. Originally, judging from the small photo on Theo's blog and what I had heard about him, I figured I would have no problem showing Nick up in the physical beauty department. But, after seeing his portrait today, I've decided I do, in fact, have room for concern when "competing" with Nick. He's fairly, rather attractive. Damn.
While at Theo's, I met his friends James and Eric, two fellows that proved to be much cooler than Theo had let on. As always, I was sweaty-palm nervous, but I think the conversation (aside from Theo's marijuana-induced paranoia) went really well for a first meeting.
I also happened to come across an old picture of Nick. Originally, judging from the small photo on Theo's blog and what I had heard about him, I figured I would have no problem showing Nick up in the physical beauty department. But, after seeing his portrait today, I've decided I do, in fact, have room for concern when "competing" with Nick. He's fairly, rather attractive. Damn.
Wednesday, January 30, 2002
Ladies, gentlemen, and gentlemen who prefer to act like ladies: I just experienced the most wonderful orgasm I have ever experienced, as of now. Sensational. Five-star. Two thumbs up. A UGAS morning/afternoon/three-minute rendez-vous/night cannot hold a candle to this evening's Woodfield parking lot wonderfulness; I will spend the rest of the evening in an ephemeral, euphoric high.
Too many funerals as of late.
I had an odd dream last night--I dreamt that I somehow was in a car accident, where me and my mysterious passenger were launched into the air in the Peoria factory parking lot, and my jaw became unhinged. I then woke up thinking my jaw was actually disconnected, and spent about 1/2 hour using my jaw muscle to keep it rigidly in place. I am so queer.
Too many funerals as of late.
I had an odd dream last night--I dreamt that I somehow was in a car accident, where me and my mysterious passenger were launched into the air in the Peoria factory parking lot, and my jaw became unhinged. I then woke up thinking my jaw was actually disconnected, and spent about 1/2 hour using my jaw muscle to keep it rigidly in place. I am so queer.
Interesting news: one of my aquaintances' cousins is the affable, beautiful queer boy on this season of the Real World, Chris. What a small world it is.
My Honors American Lit. teacher, Ms. Rosas, with whom I was infatuated for most of last year, sent me the most flattering, poignanat, and heartfelt reccommendation letter today for inclusion into my AU application. I think I've settled on my "A Sister Broken" essay for AU--not only does it showcase my writing skills, but also certainly humbles me and shows off a darker side of my personality. While thinking about it, I'm suddnly weary about the latter...no, no, I need to take a chance. Getting into AU is worth it, for more reasons than it's academia.
My Honors American Lit. teacher, Ms. Rosas, with whom I was infatuated for most of last year, sent me the most flattering, poignanat, and heartfelt reccommendation letter today for inclusion into my AU application. I think I've settled on my "A Sister Broken" essay for AU--not only does it showcase my writing skills, but also certainly humbles me and shows off a darker side of my personality. While thinking about it, I'm suddnly weary about the latter...no, no, I need to take a chance. Getting into AU is worth it, for more reasons than it's academia.
Tuesday, January 29, 2002
I absolutely detest skin. Especially face skin. Especially when this face skin erupts in a veritable flowerbed of acne. Thankfully I don't have it as bad as most people, but the occasional pimple, with its mocking white peak, connotating purity and goodness, really irks me. It is evil. Just evil.
I have much more to write about, but my parental units are stirring.
I have much more to write about, but my parental units are stirring.
Report cards arrived today--I'm rather pleased, seeing as how I weaseled my way out of a possible D in AP English to a B+. Still not an A, but it will suffice. Curiously enough, as my unweighted GPA raises higher and higher by the semester, my weighted GPA drops about a tenth of a point every term. Damn choir classes.
Monday, January 28, 2002
My short-ish DC friend Preston E-mailed me today, after I E-mailed him to sort of catch him up on my life. I wish the lease on his three-story beauty of a house in northwest DC wasn't up this summer, because I would positively beg him to let me be a roomie of his.
I'm really looking forward to going to American U...if I get in.
I'm really looking forward to going to American U...if I get in.
Tonight was the first night with Theo that I not only felt captivated by him and his presence for every single moment of the night, but I truly did not want to leave him and mourned silently over his and my departure from the overpriced West Dundee Italian restaurant. What's that word for when you've found someone you simply cannot get enough of, and want to pour them into a bottomless glass and drink in their wonderfulness for an eternity and then some?
It's happening.
It's happening.
Chris, a relatively cool and attractive queer fellow from downstate Illinois, who I met through some all-staters, read my journal in entirety last night. While I get plenty out of writing in a journal, for the benefits of it all, I'm glad others are able to enjoy it too. And, being a TRUE gentleman, he signed my guestbook. (Ahem, ahem...)
After last evening's conversation with Theo, as I chain smoked (and stayed up until 12:30 in a frantic, jittery high as a result), I really think Erin McKeown's "Something Comes" is such an appropriate song to describe my hopeful future. I hope that someone, ideally Theo, can break through my shell and mold my pessimism into something less acerbic.
I spoke to Erin, and I don't feel as disallusioned about love as I did last night during our conversation. I found it unusual and morbid, to an extent, to discuss love like it were some medical condition slowly spreading across one's body like a rash. Love, to me, is something beyond analysis; one cannot think about whether or not they are in love...they should just feel it. Like, say, a stab of pain in one's stomach as he yearns to see his other half--the remaining part of the anatomical puzzle (think chestnotch) that God or science has materminded. I was disheartened, and confused. But, after getting some much-needed rest, I've decided that I don't have anything to worry about, and should instead be celebratory about my potential long-term future with one T.K..
After last evening's conversation with Theo, as I chain smoked (and stayed up until 12:30 in a frantic, jittery high as a result), I really think Erin McKeown's "Something Comes" is such an appropriate song to describe my hopeful future. I hope that someone, ideally Theo, can break through my shell and mold my pessimism into something less acerbic.
I spoke to Erin, and I don't feel as disallusioned about love as I did last night during our conversation. I found it unusual and morbid, to an extent, to discuss love like it were some medical condition slowly spreading across one's body like a rash. Love, to me, is something beyond analysis; one cannot think about whether or not they are in love...they should just feel it. Like, say, a stab of pain in one's stomach as he yearns to see his other half--the remaining part of the anatomical puzzle (think chestnotch) that God or science has materminded. I was disheartened, and confused. But, after getting some much-needed rest, I've decided that I don't have anything to worry about, and should instead be celebratory about my potential long-term future with one T.K..
Sunday, January 27, 2002
First off, this makes me want to vomit. I cannot believe our government would turn a deaf ear to matters like this. I need to be president.
It was really an evening of mixed emotions. First, i just need to comment on this:
it is pretty sad i think when people use language as a means to distinguish themselves from people who are "below" them. What these people dont understand is that the true challenge of intellegence is being able to share it to as many people as possible.
I think that for many people with expansive vocabularies, they simply become used to speaking and writing in prose peppered in the larger words they've come to know, love, and understand. For me, it's almost as if my mind automatically slips in synonyms of three or four-syllable proportions for the eensy-teensy banal words which used to reside in my vocabulary. I can't really help it; so what if I enjoy playing with the English language and am good at retaining really interesting words? I don't know about my fellow linguists, but I for one do not regularly use large words and proper English as a means of condescending to people. In fact, I think the theory that intelligent, verbose individuals use big words to poke fun/confse the heck out of those less skilled in English originated from some idiot somewhere who was jealous/intimidated by someone who happened to slip a frilly word or two into a conversation with him. But, I digress. To each his own.
I've really lost the passion I once had about the topic of this evening, so perhaps I will write more about it tomorrow.
It was really an evening of mixed emotions. First, i just need to comment on this:
it is pretty sad i think when people use language as a means to distinguish themselves from people who are "below" them. What these people dont understand is that the true challenge of intellegence is being able to share it to as many people as possible.
I think that for many people with expansive vocabularies, they simply become used to speaking and writing in prose peppered in the larger words they've come to know, love, and understand. For me, it's almost as if my mind automatically slips in synonyms of three or four-syllable proportions for the eensy-teensy banal words which used to reside in my vocabulary. I can't really help it; so what if I enjoy playing with the English language and am good at retaining really interesting words? I don't know about my fellow linguists, but I for one do not regularly use large words and proper English as a means of condescending to people. In fact, I think the theory that intelligent, verbose individuals use big words to poke fun/confse the heck out of those less skilled in English originated from some idiot somewhere who was jealous/intimidated by someone who happened to slip a frilly word or two into a conversation with him. But, I digress. To each his own.
I've really lost the passion I once had about the topic of this evening, so perhaps I will write more about it tomorrow.
My father woke me up this morning (at 9:30, no less) trying to apologize for making me feel worse than I already did about the weekend's sour events. Then, my mother lectured me about how I'm closing valuable doors in my life, and how I don't know how/desire to found good relationships with people. I've apparently had a "horrible" year, socially, and need to make some adjustments.
Seven months. Seven months.
Seven months. Seven months.
Saturday, January 26, 2002
What a horrible and disgusting weekend. I am so angry the pinnacle of my music career, the IMEA All-State Honors weekend, was bastardized and constricted. Oh, but that's right--it was my own fault.
I need a goddamn FUCKING cigarette.
I really miss Theo, and hope the whole "thing" is over and done with.
I need a goddamn FUCKING cigarette.
I really miss Theo, and hope the whole "thing" is over and done with.
Tuesday, January 22, 2002
I have erred.
After what I considered a large threshhold was cross'd this afternoon--the abandonment of all insecurities and reserves (clothes) in my bed (something that I have never experienced with another human being before)--I made an off-color reference to something that set off Theo. (Further irony ensues when factoring in how quite opposite I feel about (un)said topic.) While we may have taken three steps in the "right" direction this afternoon pre-4:00, my post-bedside comment has left me feeling several leaps and bounds behind where we already were.
Guiltregretuneasiness.
This is possibly the worst time for me to have to leave the situation for several days--at this point, I would nearly sacrifice my spot in the All-State Honors Chorus to purge the knot that now preoccupies my stomach.
What have I goddamn done.
After what I considered a large threshhold was cross'd this afternoon--the abandonment of all insecurities and reserves (clothes) in my bed (something that I have never experienced with another human being before)--I made an off-color reference to something that set off Theo. (Further irony ensues when factoring in how quite opposite I feel about (un)said topic.) While we may have taken three steps in the "right" direction this afternoon pre-4:00, my post-bedside comment has left me feeling several leaps and bounds behind where we already were.
Guiltregretuneasiness.
This is possibly the worst time for me to have to leave the situation for several days--at this point, I would nearly sacrifice my spot in the All-State Honors Chorus to purge the knot that now preoccupies my stomach.
What have I goddamn done.
Monday, January 21, 2002
Anything I originally intended on posting about today has left my mind, as news of Theo's abandonment of his online journal has swept my mind. It seems horrible to me, mostly because I look at The day of late as the catalyst of my relationship with him. It seems odd...I don't know. I'm very disappointed, because I will no longer be entertained by his daily reports, pleas for his readers to look up one queer organization or another, and music selections as of late. I finally signed his guestbook, with my poorly-written eulogy of his site, and how much it meant to me. Sigh.
Saturday, January 19, 2002
I'm ever-thankful Blogger has a handy "delete" function. Mustn't worry so much. Really mustn't.
Everything, as should have been expected, is alright in the rollercoaster ride of my relationship with Theo. We had a "big discussion" this evening, with the outcome being me realizing I'm just paranoid, and really should trust him. So, I will now trust him. It's just that easy.
I was pleased to run into my wonderful All-State friend today, Erin. I must make it a point to spend more and more time with her in the wake of the production. Michelle and Alex...I love it how people try to be hospitable when seeing each other in public settings. Hmm.
Off to watch/eat "Chocolat." Will starve self tomorrow until dinner with Catherine. Must start doing beaucoup de situps.
Everything, as should have been expected, is alright in the rollercoaster ride of my relationship with Theo. We had a "big discussion" this evening, with the outcome being me realizing I'm just paranoid, and really should trust him. So, I will now trust him. It's just that easy.
I was pleased to run into my wonderful All-State friend today, Erin. I must make it a point to spend more and more time with her in the wake of the production. Michelle and Alex...I love it how people try to be hospitable when seeing each other in public settings. Hmm.
Off to watch/eat "Chocolat." Will starve self tomorrow until dinner with Catherine. Must start doing beaucoup de situps.
Friday, January 18, 2002
In the words of a very slender, non-chunky elf I know, "I feel fat." Hence, the reason I'm not going out tonight. I'm just not in the mood, unless I go out with Erin. And I'm too lethargic-feeling to even do that.
Awkwardness ensues when my parents and sister trash-talk my gay uncle and his partner. It always catalyzes an inner-analysis of everything they say, and a fear of them not just hating the fact that my uncle is a trashy alcoholic, but instead of hating his sexual preference. Of course, the latter is unlikely, but the fear is still there.
Awkwardness ensues when my parents and sister trash-talk my gay uncle and his partner. It always catalyzes an inner-analysis of everything they say, and a fear of them not just hating the fact that my uncle is a trashy alcoholic, but instead of hating his sexual preference. Of course, the latter is unlikely, but the fear is still there.
Thursday, January 17, 2002
While I originally had things more prevalent about my life and the evening's occurences to post about, I decided to sleep on those thoughts, to sort them out a bit, and announce this bit of interesting news.
As I sat down to post about the evening's ups and downs, the doorbell rang. And rang. And rang. We have an intercom system, with a doorbell wired through the speakers of the house. My gay uncle, as gleeful and jolly as can be, apparently got the button stuck in the mechanism, leaving the doorbell to ring incessantly.
Moving on. I'm sorry...I'm a bit tipsy and not-with-it.
Apparently, after twenty-three years of living together, my gay uncle and his butch biker bitch boyfriend (who is very cool) are getting married. He had this gaudy "floating diamond" ring to show off, and brought a bottle of champagne to share with us. I had three glasses. I'm toasty warm.
It really makes me even more weary about the whole "gay marriage" thing. Tonight has just been a night of insecurities for me, I guess. I don't think I can allow myself to be as naive and trustworthy as I once was. Love stems from those two things. And plus, my utter skepticism about gay marriages practically guarantees a lifetime of solitude. Which is fine.
Everyone is a fucking Napoleon.
As I sat down to post about the evening's ups and downs, the doorbell rang. And rang. And rang. We have an intercom system, with a doorbell wired through the speakers of the house. My gay uncle, as gleeful and jolly as can be, apparently got the button stuck in the mechanism, leaving the doorbell to ring incessantly.
Moving on. I'm sorry...I'm a bit tipsy and not-with-it.
Apparently, after twenty-three years of living together, my gay uncle and his butch biker bitch boyfriend (who is very cool) are getting married. He had this gaudy "floating diamond" ring to show off, and brought a bottle of champagne to share with us. I had three glasses. I'm toasty warm.
It really makes me even more weary about the whole "gay marriage" thing. Tonight has just been a night of insecurities for me, I guess. I don't think I can allow myself to be as naive and trustworthy as I once was. Love stems from those two things. And plus, my utter skepticism about gay marriages practically guarantees a lifetime of solitude. Which is fine.
Everyone is a fucking Napoleon.
Tuesday, January 15, 2002
"I know you love her (the supposed posters on your wall prove it) and me.... well, I'm pretty sure you like me."
He may not always be grammatically correct, and he may not be the closest and most convenient to see, and he may not always be the nicest a boy's ever been to me (Two words: crotch boy), but I really have a feeling about Theo.
He may not always be grammatically correct, and he may not be the closest and most convenient to see, and he may not always be the nicest a boy's ever been to me (Two words: crotch boy), but I really have a feeling about Theo.
Unfortunately, this does not really apply to our relationship. I hope.
your hand on his arm
the hay stack charm around your neck
strung out and thin
calling some friend trying to cash some check
he's acting dumb
that's what you've come to expect
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
he's wearing yr clothes
head down to toes a reaction to you
you say you know what he did
but you idiot kid
you don't have a clue
sometimes they just get caught in the eye
you're pulling him through
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
now on the bus
nearly touching this dirty retreat
falling out 6th and powell a dead sweat in my teeth
gonna walk walk walk
four more blocks plus one in my break
down downstairs to the man
he's gonna make it all ok
i can't beat myself
i can't beat myself
and i don't want to talk
i'm taking the cure so i can be quiet
whenever i want
so leave me alone
you ought to be proud that i'm getting good marks
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
your hand on his arm
the hay stack charm around your neck
strung out and thin
calling some friend trying to cash some check
he's acting dumb
that's what you've come to expect
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
he's wearing yr clothes
head down to toes a reaction to you
you say you know what he did
but you idiot kid
you don't have a clue
sometimes they just get caught in the eye
you're pulling him through
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
now on the bus
nearly touching this dirty retreat
falling out 6th and powell a dead sweat in my teeth
gonna walk walk walk
four more blocks plus one in my break
down downstairs to the man
he's gonna make it all ok
i can't beat myself
i can't beat myself
and i don't want to talk
i'm taking the cure so i can be quiet
whenever i want
so leave me alone
you ought to be proud that i'm getting good marks
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
needle in the hay
There is nothing slower than the economy and retail work post-Christmastime. I just spent the last 4.5 hours of my dwindling life folding the same goddamn "Sade" khakis over...and over...and over again. Good God...someone help me.
One thrill of the day was selling these randomly wild boxerbriefs to a really hot guy. I saw him fuddling through the boxerbrief section, and when he went up to purchase them, my manager called me over to check him out...er...I mean, ring him up. It was exciting! I'm sick.
Oh, but I really am--I've almost lost my voice totally. It's on the brink of depletion, and if I push it any more, it will be lost forever, I fear. I sound like a sixty-year-old smoker. If this is what i have to look forward to at the age of sixty, counting on my smoking continuing, perhaps I should quit while I'm still ahead.
Nah.
So, I guess Theo's coming over Thursday afternoon. Excitement! I was hoping we wouldn't just resort to another play-session, but if I have the house to myself...I might as well take advantage. Must think of something to do after we convene at my house.I love work, in that it gives me four hours to doze off mentally and think of him all evening. That's all I really do at the Gap. Today, I pondered (like a 1950s high school blonde cheerleader popping Pepto-Bosmol pink bubblegum) which song I'd choose to be "ours." I'm a very musical person, so I love to associate songs with people and relationships. Greg's was "Hanging By A Moment," and Bob's was "Kalifornication--" a song that wasn't really appreciated for its lyrical irony until AFTER we broke up. I still can taste the acid build in the back of my throat every time I hear it, the previous meal travel up my esophagus...yeesh. I think Theo and my's song very well could be Elliott Smith's "needle in the Hay," if not for its significance to our relationship, but also because I look at Theo as sort of a bright (intellectually and colorfully), beautiful, valuable, unprecedented needle in a haystack of crotch-driven, lispy, brainless, self-glorifying queens.
Today, a crusty-ish old man came and shot photos of me for the Daily Herald spread about All-State. (Musical, not choir.) I have this morbid blowjob-preperatory expression on my face...the setting was really awesome, but I'm concerned I'll look like a goof. I digress.
This is a long Blog. One more point, and I'm finished.
So, Seth broke my promise by telling Betsy about how I believe there's an "age gap" between she and I. Oh, and Matt came in to work today--I hadn't seen him since Christmas Eve. I thanked him for his Christmas gift, and he went flitting off in the store, to dance and sashay for the goofy poms that I work with.
I'm done.
One thrill of the day was selling these randomly wild boxerbriefs to a really hot guy. I saw him fuddling through the boxerbrief section, and when he went up to purchase them, my manager called me over to check him out...er...I mean, ring him up. It was exciting! I'm sick.
Oh, but I really am--I've almost lost my voice totally. It's on the brink of depletion, and if I push it any more, it will be lost forever, I fear. I sound like a sixty-year-old smoker. If this is what i have to look forward to at the age of sixty, counting on my smoking continuing, perhaps I should quit while I'm still ahead.
Nah.
So, I guess Theo's coming over Thursday afternoon. Excitement! I was hoping we wouldn't just resort to another play-session, but if I have the house to myself...I might as well take advantage. Must think of something to do after we convene at my house.I love work, in that it gives me four hours to doze off mentally and think of him all evening. That's all I really do at the Gap. Today, I pondered (like a 1950s high school blonde cheerleader popping Pepto-Bosmol pink bubblegum) which song I'd choose to be "ours." I'm a very musical person, so I love to associate songs with people and relationships. Greg's was "Hanging By A Moment," and Bob's was "Kalifornication--" a song that wasn't really appreciated for its lyrical irony until AFTER we broke up. I still can taste the acid build in the back of my throat every time I hear it, the previous meal travel up my esophagus...yeesh. I think Theo and my's song very well could be Elliott Smith's "needle in the Hay," if not for its significance to our relationship, but also because I look at Theo as sort of a bright (intellectually and colorfully), beautiful, valuable, unprecedented needle in a haystack of crotch-driven, lispy, brainless, self-glorifying queens.
Today, a crusty-ish old man came and shot photos of me for the Daily Herald spread about All-State. (Musical, not choir.) I have this morbid blowjob-preperatory expression on my face...the setting was really awesome, but I'm concerned I'll look like a goof. I digress.
This is a long Blog. One more point, and I'm finished.
So, Seth broke my promise by telling Betsy about how I believe there's an "age gap" between she and I. Oh, and Matt came in to work today--I hadn't seen him since Christmas Eve. I thanked him for his Christmas gift, and he went flitting off in the store, to dance and sashay for the goofy poms that I work with.
I'm done.
I will not, as I worried, be allowed to participate in this weekend's debate tournament, as a result of my absence last week, when the permission slips were due. Now, I fear I may perform at several speech tournaments I do not want to do, like regionals, for nothing. Oh well.
My father really needs to LEAVE THE HOUSE. I hate having people right near me when I'm trying to engage in private time at the computer. Honestly...what an utter lack of disrespect for my raging teen-hormones.
Work tonight. Work tomorrow night. I don't even remember what work is like, hardly.
My father really needs to LEAVE THE HOUSE. I hate having people right near me when I'm trying to engage in private time at the computer. Honestly...what an utter lack of disrespect for my raging teen-hormones.
Work tonight. Work tomorrow night. I don't even remember what work is like, hardly.
Monday, January 14, 2002
Further proof that I live in non-evolved white middle-class Hell--The most urban and interesting girl, who I certainly would have assumed were familiar with the following artist, did not know who Ani Difranco is. Now, while I may not have been a big fan of hers until The Age of Theo, I have been familiar with her for several years. Shocking.
And he's back.
Show choir...durr.
Presentation for All-State Honors Choir in front of school board members and audience...fun.
RECORDKEEPING...what in the name of God would sway someone to teach/take such a class?
AP English with Chris...this should be interesting, seeing as how he's only the most beautiful boy in school.
Theo...aaah. Comfort. Affection. Chinese chewy candies. The list does not cease. Jill v. excited to meet him this weekend.
More about things tomorrow...must complete evidence for debate now. Only one week overdue, hey...
Show choir...durr.
Presentation for All-State Honors Choir in front of school board members and audience...fun.
RECORDKEEPING...what in the name of God would sway someone to teach/take such a class?
AP English with Chris...this should be interesting, seeing as how he's only the most beautiful boy in school.
Theo...aaah. Comfort. Affection. Chinese chewy candies. The list does not cease. Jill v. excited to meet him this weekend.
More about things tomorrow...must complete evidence for debate now. Only one week overdue, hey...
I don't have much time to post, but I'll try to ReadersDigest-ize this as much as possible. This week, I had the All-State musical performance at ISU. It was an awesome experience, even though I began to despose some people by the week's end. I'm truly thrilled I was able to be a part of it, and I'm equally thrilled about the spread the Daily Herald is doing about me being in it. Publicity that!
Mr. Moeller. Durr. I feel really bad, because I had to sort of airbrush the truth to him. Surprisingly, I was able to work up some tears. I'll have to remember that for future emotional recall moments. But, God saw to it that everything went well. Must do something for Him. (Don't ask, I'm on a loving-God trip today.)
I hate my new schedule. Will speak more about this later.
Theo and I went to a wonderful Japanese grocery last night, and out to a vegetarian hole-in-the-strip-mall. It wasn't that horrible, aside from the apparent housing arrangement at the table to our right. (There were pillows and laundry and an iron and whatnot.) I think he and I need to do something other than our traditional "crummymealcarromance" sessions. I mean, it's good that we did those car rendez-vous(es), just because it helps establish the sexual attraction, but I just feel bad for always wanting to "play" with him. Always.
I think it would be absolutely grand to take Theo to Europe with me. However, that's really presumptuous of me, and rather illogical. Sigh.
Mr. Moeller. Durr. I feel really bad, because I had to sort of airbrush the truth to him. Surprisingly, I was able to work up some tears. I'll have to remember that for future emotional recall moments. But, God saw to it that everything went well. Must do something for Him. (Don't ask, I'm on a loving-God trip today.)
I hate my new schedule. Will speak more about this later.
Theo and I went to a wonderful Japanese grocery last night, and out to a vegetarian hole-in-the-strip-mall. It wasn't that horrible, aside from the apparent housing arrangement at the table to our right. (There were pillows and laundry and an iron and whatnot.) I think he and I need to do something other than our traditional "crummymealcarromance" sessions. I mean, it's good that we did those car rendez-vous(es), just because it helps establish the sexual attraction, but I just feel bad for always wanting to "play" with him. Always.
I think it would be absolutely grand to take Theo to Europe with me. However, that's really presumptuous of me, and rather illogical. Sigh.
Monday, January 07, 2002
Working in reverse order.
This evening Theo and I crossed a troublesome hurdle that had been a bit trying on both our parts: I finally orgasmed. You see, I have some sort of nerve-catalyzed sexual inhibition which does not allow me to always...enjoy things. Whenever we would "play" ( love that term), I would feel so guilty for not being able to fully enjoy the wonderfulness he was performing on my body. But, we crossed that stepping stone, and I hope it means the relationship has moved onto a closer level...especially now that I will be able to "perform" more frequently now, having gotten over the first time.
I really just enjoy holding his hand in my car more than just about anything else i can think of. Just being with him...sharing the same energy as him...getting my fingers sucked...(what a WONDERFUL thing...so erotic)...touching his leg, smelling his wonderfulness, imbibing his spoken thoughts and wondering about those which are left unspoken...what a wonderful puzzle he is.
Show choir was interesting. I love the choreography, and I think if I were in a different group, we would make it to finals, no doubt. But our group is very...unskilled and mostly fat. We don't look like we'd be starving in lower east New York City. I love the character I created for myself...would like to be him ("Ark"--short for Archimedes...I'm sick.). Overall I had fun bonding with Kassi, Jamie, Jill as always, Patrick, and my Francesca Lia Block novel. What an unusual set of stories...
Tomorrow, Van Gogh and Goughin, and a train ride to Betsy's humble abode in Lincoln.
I will try to sneak into an ISU computer lab this week to update during Theaterfest, but I'm not sure I'll be given the chance.
This evening Theo and I crossed a troublesome hurdle that had been a bit trying on both our parts: I finally orgasmed. You see, I have some sort of nerve-catalyzed sexual inhibition which does not allow me to always...enjoy things. Whenever we would "play" ( love that term), I would feel so guilty for not being able to fully enjoy the wonderfulness he was performing on my body. But, we crossed that stepping stone, and I hope it means the relationship has moved onto a closer level...especially now that I will be able to "perform" more frequently now, having gotten over the first time.
I really just enjoy holding his hand in my car more than just about anything else i can think of. Just being with him...sharing the same energy as him...getting my fingers sucked...(what a WONDERFUL thing...so erotic)...touching his leg, smelling his wonderfulness, imbibing his spoken thoughts and wondering about those which are left unspoken...what a wonderful puzzle he is.
Show choir was interesting. I love the choreography, and I think if I were in a different group, we would make it to finals, no doubt. But our group is very...unskilled and mostly fat. We don't look like we'd be starving in lower east New York City. I love the character I created for myself...would like to be him ("Ark"--short for Archimedes...I'm sick.). Overall I had fun bonding with Kassi, Jamie, Jill as always, Patrick, and my Francesca Lia Block novel. What an unusual set of stories...
Tomorrow, Van Gogh and Goughin, and a train ride to Betsy's humble abode in Lincoln.
I will try to sneak into an ISU computer lab this week to update during Theaterfest, but I'm not sure I'll be given the chance.
Friday, January 04, 2002
Thursday, January 03, 2002
I never realized how homophobic my mother actually was until this evening. It seems that for this show choir retreat, we will be staying in triple-occupancy rooms, which either means there will be three heterosexual beds, or two boys will have to share a queen bed (no pun). My mother is continually bringing it up...
"Who are you rooming with?"
"How are you going to sleep in the same room as two other boys?"
"Maybe you should just bring a sleeping bag."
"There's always the bathtub, even though it's uncomfortable."
Thank you, dear Lord, for grasping me from the womb of this uneducated conservative cow.
I pity children who have non-college-graduate parents. How do they develop any sort of vocabulary or political grasp? I am a bitch. And really not spoiled/priveledged enough to speak of such things.
I see what Theo means now, about the difference between a single child and a child with one or more siblings. I would be a completely different person without Liz. Most likely, a better and less confrontational/melodramatic/argumentative child. I wonder. Note to self: must study child number relevance to personality next week.
"Who are you rooming with?"
"How are you going to sleep in the same room as two other boys?"
"Maybe you should just bring a sleeping bag."
"There's always the bathtub, even though it's uncomfortable."
Thank you, dear Lord, for grasping me from the womb of this uneducated conservative cow.
I pity children who have non-college-graduate parents. How do they develop any sort of vocabulary or political grasp? I am a bitch. And really not spoiled/priveledged enough to speak of such things.
I see what Theo means now, about the difference between a single child and a child with one or more siblings. I would be a completely different person without Liz. Most likely, a better and less confrontational/melodramatic/argumentative child. I wonder. Note to self: must study child number relevance to personality next week.
*Legislative Newsflash*
One who has not lived to his 18th birthday cannot purchase a cigarette lighter. That is preposterous, for many reasons. First, not everyone uses lighters strictly for cigarettes. As my friend Shannon, who is very much a non-smoker demonstrated, she uses her lighter (which I subsequently stole) to ignite candles. Also, I don't know how it is for other regions, but I am under the distinct impression that Kane County law states that one may imbibe cigarettes following his 17th birthday, but may not purchase cigarettes until his 18th birthday. What sort of horseshit is this, that a mere non-tobacco-containing item such as a lighter is not purchasable until after the 18th birthday of the user? Christ in a casket.
I don't understand how my day could have been horrible, after reading Theo's blog this morning before I went to school. I have never felt so...girlish and bubby inside. The trouble is, of course, I feel goofy and borderline ashamed of my feelings for him, and have made it a point to not be very vocal in expressing said feelings. I merely mimic whatever he says to me really...it's sort of the "safe" thing to do. As I rehearse for All-State Honors (Ok, I'm joking. I don't ever practice anything.), I see more and more how Billy Joel's "And So It Goes" applies to my life so fittingly. (Or at least this situation.) Here are select lyrics.
In every heart, there is a room--a sanctuary safe and strong.
To heal the wounds of lover's past, until a new one comes along.
I spoke to YOU in cautious tones, you answered me with no pretense...
And still I feel I said too much, my silence is my self-defense.
But if my silence made you leave, then that would be my worst mistake.
It continues, and I hope that my situation follows the lyrics. So, I will refrain from posting them until it happens.
I'm re-reading Theo's blog, piece by piece, because he read all of mine. (Granted, my blog is incredibly small, but...)
One who has not lived to his 18th birthday cannot purchase a cigarette lighter. That is preposterous, for many reasons. First, not everyone uses lighters strictly for cigarettes. As my friend Shannon, who is very much a non-smoker demonstrated, she uses her lighter (which I subsequently stole) to ignite candles. Also, I don't know how it is for other regions, but I am under the distinct impression that Kane County law states that one may imbibe cigarettes following his 17th birthday, but may not purchase cigarettes until his 18th birthday. What sort of horseshit is this, that a mere non-tobacco-containing item such as a lighter is not purchasable until after the 18th birthday of the user? Christ in a casket.
I don't understand how my day could have been horrible, after reading Theo's blog this morning before I went to school. I have never felt so...girlish and bubby inside. The trouble is, of course, I feel goofy and borderline ashamed of my feelings for him, and have made it a point to not be very vocal in expressing said feelings. I merely mimic whatever he says to me really...it's sort of the "safe" thing to do. As I rehearse for All-State Honors (Ok, I'm joking. I don't ever practice anything.), I see more and more how Billy Joel's "And So It Goes" applies to my life so fittingly. (Or at least this situation.) Here are select lyrics.
In every heart, there is a room--a sanctuary safe and strong.
To heal the wounds of lover's past, until a new one comes along.
I spoke to YOU in cautious tones, you answered me with no pretense...
And still I feel I said too much, my silence is my self-defense.
But if my silence made you leave, then that would be my worst mistake.
It continues, and I hope that my situation follows the lyrics. So, I will refrain from posting them until it happens.
I'm re-reading Theo's blog, piece by piece, because he read all of mine. (Granted, my blog is incredibly small, but...)
Wednesday, January 02, 2002
As already mentioned, I dislike my frequent use of the "w" word. So, I will simply make it clear that I had a more than pleasant time with Theo tonight--first at his beautiful little house, and then at Woodfield. He made a long-off theoretical proposition that excited me and warmed my frigid day/week. At least this means he thinks of me as less a temporary fixture of his life, and more a semi-permanent character in his twisted Wes Anderson-directed French-dubbed film of life.
TeaWithTheDucks: bah.... As simplistic as it sounds, I do really like you... a lot.
TeaWithTheDucks: i'm off, goodnight.
TeaWithTheDucks: you make laugh and I enjoy that.
That really just...makes my week. The sins of a bland New Year's Eve have been washed away with those words, and this evening.
Will refrain from poking fun at lack of pronoun, due to its cuteness and potential for offense.
TeaWithTheDucks: bah.... As simplistic as it sounds, I do really like you... a lot.
TeaWithTheDucks: i'm off, goodnight.
TeaWithTheDucks: you make laugh and I enjoy that.
That really just...makes my week. The sins of a bland New Year's Eve have been washed away with those words, and this evening.
Will refrain from poking fun at lack of pronoun, due to its cuteness and potential for offense.
Tuesday, January 01, 2002
When I waited in the lobby of AMC30 to get picked up for the train station, I thought about him. When I strolled down Armitage, a street we once drove down one night in the not-so-distant past, I thought of him. When I purchased and smoked a pack of Newport Mediums, I thought of him. As I stood on Navy Pier, and the fireworks exploded in their technicolor majesty and everyone around me was kissing and holding their special people, I thought of him.
Spending New Year's Eve without one's counterpart is torture.
Happy New Year's.
Spending New Year's Eve without one's counterpart is torture.
Happy New Year's.