All I Want For Christmas is...

...for the both of us to be caught underneath some mistletoe before we both leave for break. I really don't care what happens afterward.

Post-Thanksgiving Thought

I love my family.

Movies to Watch over Xmas Break

1. The Reader

2. Revolutionary Road

3. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

4. Changeling

5. Tropic Thunder (yes, I know it came out in August)

What's in a Name

I keep saying your name over and over until it no longer sounds like a word. Oh Freud: I've been a bad, bad girl. What are you going to do about it?

Let Me Count the Ways...

More abysmal writing at this hour. But I need to make this post. This whole week I've needed to make these ridiculous entries. I just do, or I will go batshit crazy.

You're so smart. Intensely, insanely, inhumanly smart. You're observant and perceptive, bitter and caustic, jaded and cynical...but you smile. You're all of these things and you still smile. Which means that there remains something about this life that you find difficult to let go of. Which manages to make you at least slightly understandable to me. Who was I kidding? You truly are out of my league.

The more I get to know you, the prettier you become. I'll admit: your nose is too big, your lips can be fuller, and sometimes when you duck your head you make an accidental double-chin. But flaws are what make people. So, your nose gives you character. The sarcastic quips you mutter sound so much better coming from that tightly pursed mouth. And I happen to like my women curvy. And these are just the abnormalities. I would need to write a novel-length entry on the good attributes.

And finally (God forgive me), you're blunt. You're harsh and don't mince words. You can be a bitch. You tell me like it is. You make no excuses. You're the most self-aware person I've ever met, and now I get it. At the end of this rant post, it clicked.

I'm smitten with you because you inspire me to write, that much is true. But the more important part is: I'm smitten with you because you're everything I'm not, and therefore everything I want to be. Wish I could be.

I stare at your door every time I pass through Hadley 3 now. It's far too much, and yet not nearly enough.

The Aftermath of a Storm

I am still slightly high as I write this.

Tonight you rejected me. It was harsh, and to the point. But we're still friends. I suppose I should take what I can get and be happy with it. Alright then. I will. I'm not giving up on you though.

You brought me out of writer's block and inspired so many angst-ridden posts about you. So I'll keep on looking at you, and thinking of you, and writing of you until I have milked you of all your creative worth.

And then I will find another muse.

Screw Tomorrow

Now that I've become even more aware of you, my paranoia has skyrocketed to new heights of absurdity. Every time you glance at me, my skin crawls and my throat goes dry--where did my damn bottle of water go??? I wonder if you know. I wonder if I'm that obvious. I can't be.

Right?

...no. It's definitely possible. But maybe that's a good thing because when we look at each other now, I sense you searching me, scrutinizing me, like you know something's off about our dynamic but you can't quite put your finger on it. And I will keep on behaving like a wind-up toy ready to spring until you corner me one day after class and ask me what the fuck is going on.

And that's when I know that it is time.

Loopy

I keep replaying the same scene in my head. It's Friday night at Bunker, and the both of us are properly buzzed and flushed. We're dancing side by side until the ever-shifting mass of bodies crowd us to the side where there is a smooth patch of free wall. In their lewd, drunken stupor, the rest of the college students won't let us back into the grinding, sweaty mess, and this is the part where we both laugh and I let my eyes drift over you in a completely unsubtle, do-you-know-what-is-going-on-inside-my-head-right-now sort of way. You're surprised and yet not surprised, so I don't hear any vocal complaint as I gently nudge you towards the wall. And for one long, torturous moment, neither of us say anything because I'm still wondering why I'm thinking instead of doing.

Eventually though, I give myself a mental kick and lean in.

And your lips are soft (so soft.) I'm also a damn good kisser in this particular fantasy, but the best part comes when I notice that you're not pushing me away. At all.

Then I jerk my head up and continue to write class notes in my binder as the professor rambles on.

The Part Where I Remember Why I am Bisexual

Aah, now I remember.

Deleted Scenes (only not)

I ran into you at breakfast today. You never come to breakfast. Why were you at breakfast today? You sat across from me and ate your blueberry muffin with a fork while I shoveled oatmeal into my mouth, wondering what else could happen. It took me longer than it usually did to finish my logic homework at the table.

~~

You slid into your usual desk (next to me) right before sociology class began, and I still didn't take off my earphones until you had pulled out your sketch book and busied yourself with an earlier drawing. Today's topic was Sigmund Freud, and I could count on two hands the number of times I glanced at you during discussion.

~~

As soon as class was over, I started towards the bench where you always have a post-sociology cig, but you stopped and reminded me of a previous appointment the both of us had. I mean we were attending the same workshop, but there was still a five-second pause devoid of any words before you said "see you later" and walked off.

~~

I immediately spotted you at the refreshments table, but I decided not to say anything until I had the right words in my head. As I was pouring tea into my mug, you leaned over slightly and said "I thought you abandoned me" with one cocked eyebrow. I looked up to reply, and--sure enough--the words died in my mouth.

~~

At dinner, you ate quickly and barely said anything. I laughed more boisterously than I should have the entire time and made sarcastic quips that weren't actually that sarcastic. When you abruptly got up and left (but not before throwing a smile at someone else), I crammed a slice of cake into my mouth and thought nothing of it.

~~

I am crazy. And obsessive. This is me being crazy. And obsessive. Behold.

You were the last person on earth.

I had no idea something like this would happen.

All I need now is for you to torture me in my dreams.

...no, then that means I wouldn't get any work done at ALL.

~~

The annoying thing about me is that when I have revelations, they aren't the quiet little moments which I calmly reflect upon. Rather, they manifest themselves in situations like this past weekend during haus, where we were dancing, moving, and throwing our arms around in time to deafening techno beats and disorienting strobe lights, where there wasn't a lonely body to be found and cans of Red Bull littered the back area.

That night I decided to finally, finally give in to my horny whims and commit all sorts of acts with the next person who found me. True to my word, I was pressing against a random college boy within a few minutes. And as he leaned down to kiss me, my mind was racing: Which assignments did I need to complete by the following Monday? Could I wake up early enough for my Sunday oatmeal? And why was there a crick in my neck all of a sudden?

It was supposed to be all-consuming and all-satisfying. It was supposed to make me tremble all the way down to my toes. It was supposed to remind me how to be a college student. Instead all I felt was a lukewarm tongue fumble its way around the inside of my mouth, thickly sluicing my lips as I hurriedly pulled away from him. Alas, I was meant to have yet another unfulfilled night then. I should have been used to it, but apparently I had reached my limit because I abruptly felt my eyes grow hot and dry.

Determined not to care, I made my way back to my circle of friends, who barely registered my discreet return. As I swayed and rocked my hips by myself, my eyes traveled from person to person, not really seeing, not really paying attention. At last, my gaze landed on you, and that was the part where I should have (would have) turned away and focused on another point of interest. I still did not notice it then.

It was the first time I saw you out on a dancefloor. Your breasts weren't spilling out of your top because you had on a sensible white tank that showed off your shoulders and brought out the glinting metal of the various pendants hanging round your neck. You weren't gyrating and writhing on anyone either because you were too busy twirling the glowsticks in your hands, lost in some other world. And while all the girls in that arena had strands of hair stuck to their red, sweat-slicked faces, you kept your hat on and wore a secretive half-smile that wouldn't leave your lips no matter how long the party continued.

It could have been any of those things. But it wasn't. It was everything else that led up to that electrifying moment of recognition: your dark, slanted eyes, the tight, neat line of your mouth, the generous curve of your chin, those hands that draw so amazingly well, and the low, even tone of your voice... By the time I realized what had happened to me over these past several months, I was so far gone I couldn't even remember what it was that started it all.

Shit. And I still had to face you in sociology three times a week until the end of the semester.

An Elegant Summarization of This Past Weekend's Events

"Who Knows" by Natasha Bedingfield

I'm in like with you
Not in love with you quite yet
My heart's beginning to
Slightly overrule my head

Oh no, oh no
My self control
It won't hold up for very long
Oh no, oh no
You touch my soul
I can't help falling too fast for you

Can you hold on a bit
Stop before we go
'cause I might need a moment
And I wouldn't wanna spoil it

Who knows if I am ready or not
Only time will tell
Who knows if we are ready to make this something
Who knows

Maybe this is love
But I haven't fallen in quite yet

Oh no, oh no
My self control
It won't hold up for very long
Oh no, oh no
You touch my soul
I can't help falling too fast for you

Can you hold on a bit
Stop before we go
'cause I might need a moment
And I wouldn't wanna spoil it

Who knows if I am ready or not
Only time will tell
Who knows if we are ready to make this something
Who knows
Who knows

Can you hold on a bit
Stop before we go
'cause I might need a moment
And I wouldn't wanna spoil it

Who knows if I am ready or not
Only time will tell
Who knows if we are ready to make this something

Who knows if I am ready or not
Only time will tell
Who knows if we are ready to make this something
Who knows

Who knows
Maybe, maybe not
Who knows
Maybe, maybe not
Who knows
Maybe I will, maybe I won't
Who knows

~~

And by the way, the haus party at Nelson Arena was beyond epic.

Uh...Look it's a Post!! (Where?! WHERE?!)

I don't have anything particularly interesting to post tonight, so I'll just insert a short thing I wrote in May:

Yesterday it was raining. I didn’t realize it at first because I was working inside, but at one point I looked out the window and saw the peculiar wash of orange and yellow that always accompanies the aftermath of a summer storm, like streaks of color trickling from the sky. Once the customers left, I slid the takeout window open and stuck my hand out. The air felt muggy and tense, still choked with moisture, and steam was rising off of the streets. Georgia hadn’t had a shower in weeks, but suddenly this one had came along, and I have a feeling that this is but the beginning of a steady series of abrupt summer interludes that will spot my final three months in hot, sleepy Rockmart.

It was a good moment.

/short thing

News (Or Five Things to Announce)

1. I turned 18 (FINALLY) on November 4, Election Day. OBAMA-RAMA WHOOOO!!!

2. I am not homesick anymore. Go me.

3. I now have cultivated a very dreaded habit of SNACKING 24/7 ARGH I'M BLOATING.

4. I have suddenly added at least 9000 new shows to my list of shows to keep up with.

5. I am still awkward-looking. Damn.


Until next time bitches!