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Last night, while smoking alone, I saw the sky fall.

It was blue and ice and magic, and it left stars behind as it burned its way down to the horizon. It fell east, and left a glow as it passed beneath the row of houses, blocking it from my view.

I stared at the spot where it had been, and saw it still, burned into my vision.

Sleep.  Sleep is good.

Class at 1 PM.  I can deal with that.

Gotta call Santelli in the afternoon to order some new fencing equipment.

Fencing practice from 7-9 PM.

Yummy pledgeship activity later that night.




i think my mum is a lesbian.

in 1998 she shaved her hair, and has kept it really short since.
for the last, however many, years she has been asking for power tools for birthday and christmas gifts.
now she wants her motorbike licence.

good on her!

it should shut the rest of my bigoted family up.

I have been Everything2-less for the last two days. I am trembling. But it is worse than that; I still am Internet-less. And I can only blame myself for this, myself and bad luck actually.
Monday at about 5PM, just when the most pleasant and productive part of the day was about to begin the vital microwave link that connects us to the main campus tanked. It did not become flaky; it just went down like a concrete duck in a pond full of vodka (you can see that I am considering alcoholism as an option at this point).

Mumble, grumble, the network manager (who is the network manager ? why, I am) called the company that we rent the link from. Three hours later, a technician arrived. He pondered our equipment, the blinking LEDs, the humming hubs and the spright switches. Everything was OK. Even the occasionally irritable CISCO router was fine. But the microwave interface was alarmed.
This is a piece of equipment whose interface has clearly been designed by clever one-fingered alien, probably with infrared vision. This is the only possible explanation.
Anyway, after much fingerpoking, the grey box was pronounced OK. Time for a trip to the roof. The dude went on the roof. Things appeared OK. Cable test, OK. Insulation, fine. The dish appears to be pointed in the right direction.
Then the dude went to the other site, for more tests. At this point, it was around 10 PM, I had a cat to feed and I was beginning to feel worried.

This microwave link sits between us and the Internet, but not only that: our WWW server and the big mail server are on the other side of it. If it goes down, not much work gets done here.

Another telecom dude arrived, actually the boss of the previous one. More, very thorough, testing. The power supply was fine. Another trip to the roof. A very dark roof, with a very big cellular tower, red lights, cables, ducts, pipes everywhere, and nothing to prevent you from falling off it.
This being Mexico, and quite late in the night, we had to convince Security that we really needed to get on the roof. So the man stood there, in the cold wind and the red light, measuring gain at the antenna. And lo, we had 2.74 volts, which is nominal.

This was bad news: the only piece of equipment that these people could not test (a thing called a G703 if I understood correctly) was, with high probability, the piece of equipment that had died.
At about 0130 AM we all went home. No network. And today, no network either. Tomorrow we will probably get a brand new spread spectrum system. Today we have been busy rigging up bizarre mini-gateways with all sorts of systems. Tomorrow, if the net still does not work, I will be linched - this may be my last writeup.
My boss is admirably calm. Interesting. Maybe it is because she has ISDN at home. How am I writing this, you ask. Well, I am running Netscape on a Linux machine that mibarra has connected to UNAM on dialup - and I am getting the display via X.
This also explains why I will not be noding more today.

Woe is me, saith the network manager
(preceding pains - following joys)

I guess it's time to disappear again...these things happen from time to time...

I almost wish I enjoyed work enough to forget the rest of my misery...but that's gonna end one way or another...

No more waiting for her.

Her loss...

My turn to capture some new memories of the future past.

Still searching for the rapture...the next rapture has not begun...

The following conversation was conducted between me (Sheepy JFK) and a certain friend of mine who can be found on E2 here.
The conversation occured late at night, via AOL Instant Messager.

Sheepy JFK: Just sometimes. I get starved for.... something....
Mangojusz: affection? A nice talk? Or just a Sarah?
Sheepy JFK: And I get all sentimental, and start thinking how I don't want to LOOSE her, when in fact all I do when we go out is prove to myself that I've not only lost her, but we're rapidly growing apart.
Sheepy JFK: I'm a totally different Miles than when I was with her.
Sheepy JFK: and she still treats me like the old Miles. And she's a vastly different Sarah, and I don't know what to do with the new one, or the memories of the old one.
Mangojusz: she's probalby the same way miles

That's really the most important tid-bit of the conversation.
At the time, talking about this really tore me apart, because the girl in question (Sarah Elizabeth Armstrong) still really tears me apart.
Basically, the few lines in this node made me realize how I was viewing things through my own distorted opinions, rather than subjectively.

More and more in my life I've seen that people can't remove themselves from a situation, instead of changing themselves in order to view something more clearly, or at least putting their opinions (in this case, my feelings) aside to see a situation better, people (myself included, of course) will continue to be confused and baffled by what is going on around them. I tend to blame other people for "changing" (as I did above).

An Ani DiFranco lyric, to state my point:
"Everytime i say something they find hard to hear they chalk it up to my anger and never to their own fear"

From "Not a Pretty Girl".
One Year ago today I wrote this:

institutions were the bane of my being
embodied all the things I hated seeing
lost causes and the false faith
the respected system in a sickened state
all the people in their green and gold
all the things I knew were lies, that I was told
anger just a wrinkle in the fold
that covered up what told me not to grow old
and what stunted my elation
was all the complications
assignments I did only in moderation
students praying for snow and sleet
frustration caused by kamikaze cheat sheets
like tripping feet
on a broken street
mathmatic attacks on my intelect
I awoke everyday with no good intent
I could be told for only so long
to live life fully, and then you’ll be strong
but I knew they were wrong
when I was told to do my homework first
that hypocrisy was my curse
and now I see it straight
because warm bodies don’t just procreate
and people don’t want to live someone else’s fate
so when you see students throwing stones
you know there are strong undertones
And broken bones
in America’s spine

I was a miserable high school junior, suffering through the year, expressing myself the only way I could in a public high school, through poetry in my English III class.

Looking back on in, I see how much I've changed, I'm homeschooled this year, with a totally self-directed curriculum, totally self motivated, instead of being threatened rather than motivated as was the case on March 28, 2000, when this was written.
Basically, homeschooling has been the most significant change in my life thus far, I've been freed from the constraints of public school, and I've become active in my community, plus I've had a ton of time to node.
I was driving home from school tonight and had a very bizarre epiphany as my car sped across the unusually barren 405 freeway. I was sitting there, listening to Tori Amos sing her wonderful song Winter, and realized something quite profound.

I can't picture myself when I'm thirty.

Thirty is only five and a half years away, and yet when I try to conjure some image of me at thirty, I draw a complete blank. I don't know where I'll be living. I don't know what I'll be doing. Hell, I don't know if I'll even be alive.

Is this normal?

Hmm. Once again, I'm left to ponder whether the day today would be one to remember or one to be hoped to forget. Filled with release and anxiety, fear and hope, I see no tunnel at the end of this path.

Like any other day, my day begins after midnight. Once again, on the phone. Its almost pathetic actually. My black computer chair has my butt groove on it. Sort of funny in once sense, sort of pathetic in the other. But this time, I thought that its time to stop complaining and get off my chair and get some fresh air. Its actually sort of nice type of thing. I get up and take a walk out. Living in the center of the city has its advantages I guess. Everything is in the vacinity, everything from a grocery store to a 7-11. After getting a slurpee, I walk over to a restaurant, having a craving for congee. Damn I love that stuff. But on the way there, all dressed up and stuff in my thug outfit, a brash, young taiwanese man fronts me. Hmm. How interesting. Its sort of funny. Its something that I never think about. I make comments about other people to my fellow chinese or filipino friends but I don't know whether the person understands. This creep says something about me so I confront him. I guess that says something about the stability of my mind. After feeling like a big man, I go inside and enjoy my congee while talking on the phone with a pleasant lady friend of mine.

Again, until the break of morning, I sit on my computer, diligently typing on ICQ and e2. All the while, talking on the phone, with the occasional washroom breaks. At the same time, I'm still thinking of what to do. Maybe its my mind that is seeking solace in my life's affairs but it seems like I am about to fall into exhaustion. Maybe someone will understand when I say that I have had such little sleep lately that my eyelids are sticking to my eyeballs. Anyone got some WD-40?

I try to get sleep, but again, my own mind wanders and tortures me to no end. I think of how life is so difficult. I guess its hard to think positively when you can't tell your own family your problems. I try to fall into sleep, yet I cannot. Its frustrating but what can I do. I wait and wait...until the end comes..or sleep comes..whatever comes first doesn't really matter..

I drift off into sleep. Yet I can feel the pores of my skin, feeling the draft from the window. Damn. I left it open again but I don't want to get up. I rather be cold than never to sleep again. Or at least it feels like eternity until I fall into slumber again. Uncomfortable, but tolerable. I start feeling numb. Maybe I'm almost dead. Naw. Too good to be true. Sleep, here I come.

I wake up two hours later. Off to school I go. I sit dumbfounded in my class. Nothing goes in. I bite my nails. I place my head on my crossed arms. I stare out the window. Seeing the trees swaying in the wind. So peaceful. Makes me want to sleep. Ring. UBC bell rings. I should sleep near plants. Too bad I live on a third floor apartment.

UBC wargamers HQ I go. Play some Magic: The Gathering. How interesting. I used to love torturing the rookie players into submission but I had no pity on them today. Turn one. Dead. Turn two. Dead. Turn three. Dead. How lovely. Slowly, I walk over to the bus stop. I stop to stare at the sky. How blue it is today. Then a droplet hit my eye. Just my luck.

I try to sleep again on the bus, but to no avail. Stupid university students. They never shut up. I should know. I'm the loudest bastard of them all.

Home I go. Ring. I get a phone call. Its a lady friend. Wanting to eat lunch. I wasn't thinking of lunch but since she's there its cool. Japanese food. We talked, and I spilled my guts out to her. Hmm. While paying, she sniffs me and says I smell good. Bonus! I smell her back. Damn. She smelled so good that my hair on my back (I think I only have one) stood in attention. Then we went to see her boyfriend. How lovely. I'm a "girl friend". Lovely. But she gives me a ride home, then a courtesy hug, another sniff on her and I'm off to home.

Nothing happens, so I drift into neverland. Until my mom comes through the door and screams. Lovely. Off to the gym I guess.

MrFurious and I head over to the gym. We see a friend of ours. Everyone probably knows somebody like him. The preverbial bastard, liar, and self indulging bastard. But at least he has a nice car. Before he hit something with it. Then, like any other day, back into the arcade. DDR doesn't have the luster that it had back then but its all good. I guess.

We come to my house and play some more Magic: The Gathering. Then he heads home. Now I'm here, in the dark once again.

I sit here, alone in the void of my living room. I speak no words for I fear what truths I would say. While most ponder what is in the future, I ponder what value the present has to me. Whether I should be here or not. I guess its trivial matters but when the person you love lies to you, I guess it doesn't matter anymore. The rules have been broken. Nothing will be the same again.

On the way home today, I looked up. It was lightly drizzling. The rain was so fine that it seemed like fog, as the light shone through the clouds looked grey with the lights of the streets. I guess I feel like that right now. It seems like fog, but is actually raining. To wish to be something of no substance yet be actually one of feelings.

I now sit here, in the dark, with the sounds of the keys ringing in my ears. Slowly a tear comes down my left eye, as I can no longer contain it all. It defiles my being, contains my hopes, yet contradicts what I want. I touch it with my right index finger and look at it as it pools on my fingertip. I let it drop to the ground, where it was meant to be. I guess I should let sleeping dogs lie. Maybe its time for this dog to sleep.



Nothing really amusing has happened yet.

Last night? Well, I watched X-Men again to get Sleepy Enough. (I mentioned under the writeup that it jumps around too much - this was the *second* time my DVD player freezed before it even got to the main menu! Death to MovieOS-made-real! =)

Well, time to face the challenges of the day.


My day was very, very, very, very uneventful.

My Intttttternettttt connection was very, very, very unforgiving.

23:17 < Weiforu> Wow! My IntttterNet connection moved a bit from one place to another!

- from #everything

Stuff I did? Well, I tried to update my link lists on the home page, but, as you may guess, my f&$#@ng inttternet connection didn't work too well. (Which is also why I haven't noded that much today.)

It's hard to describe what I'm feeling. I might just tell it in Nethack terms:

You have a feeling of inadequacy.--more--


Sometimes, life just isn't easy.

It's hard to describe what I'm feeling.

It's just that... whatever I do, I'm never recognised. I'm here, trying to do my best, but... it's not like I would get anywhere with this.

I'm always second.

No matter how hard I try, I will never ever be recognised. I'll never be the best. I'll never... get there.


(The Animefu banner ad probably tells the story: "Moronic ambition or ambitious moron?" =)

Living in the gaps between disasters

In the last few years some extremely bad things have happened to me, and I can see more bad things coming. I exist in the lulls between storms, forever dealing with the aftermath of disasters past. I'm not enveloped by a blanket of depression though, I can still take pleasure in the pleasurable; it's just that the list of possible pleasures shrinks daily.

Sometimes (always) I miss:

Walking on a bronze beach; peering into limpid pools; warm foam licking at my toes
Limbs blurring on glowing boulders; sweat-slicked shoulders; sun-sparkled grit abrasive under chalk-coated fingers
Running down a ridge with the earth falling away from my feet; a sudden bird soaring over the world
Writing as though my life depends on it (it does)

This doesn't have a life-affirming ending. I know that I am too young to be looking backward, memory-shielded from the future. It's possible that the course of my illness will be reversed, that I will be turned around, but if not then I will be the one who says when the pain stops.

Just when I thought I could enjoy an extra hour of sleep-in that comes with the ending of Day Light Saving time, my nurse reminds me that I have to be at the Day Surgery to start at 7 am tomorrow morning!

Another lot of kids having treatment preformed under general anaesthesia. The first case should be fairly simple: just one extraction of a deciduous tooth. Unfortunately, she'd been traumatised by the experience at her last dentist - now she won't even have an OPG taken! OPG = orthopantomogram, an extra-oral (no film her mouth) x-ray; all you have to do is stand while the machine encircles your head. Her mum rang me today at my surgery, worried that she would not have the x-ray taken for tomorrow. This was her second visit to the x-ray centre! Poor kid - only 5 years old. I reassured mum that it was not essential, and if need be, there is an x-ray machine in theatre.

Case two, 3 fillings including one pulpotomy (nerve treatment for baby teeth). A 7 year old brat of the "No,-I-don't-want-to-do-it!" variety.

Speaking of baby teeth, some adults still have them. Especially if there is no permanent successor tooth underneath, the baby tooth is retained. It can also be ankylosed to the surrounding bone. Which was the scenario today.

30 year old man asked me what he should do with his badly broken down tooth. Hmmmm…. Dr. Lignocaine says That's a baby tooth!. It had to come out - there was no way it was restorable (ie can be filled again). So we planned it for today - along with some other stuff. So, one Class II MO composite filling with LA, one PRR (preventive resin restoration) without LA, an impression for a bleaching tray, and 30 minutes later…

Ligno-speak with as little jargon as possible: OK, this baby tooth has to come out. BUT, there is a VERY high chance that it is ankylosed. Which means that it could be fused to the bone. Usually there is a ligament space separating the tooth from the surrounding bone, but not in this case. THONK THINKTHINK THONK. Can you hear that? It emits a different sound with tapping - which mean there is no cushion space around the tooth. It mean that it will probably break up into pieces instead of coming out whole. And I'll just have to drill it out. It'll take a little longer.

What an understatement.

Sure enough the tooth broke off in little bits, and remaining tooth root exhibited no mobility… My choices were 1. to drill the bone around the tooth to remove the tooth, or 2. to drill out the tooth from the bone. Either way, it was going to be messy and bloody. He was in a nice white shirt and tie. AIYO AHMA OHMY. After drilling the root into its respective two pieces and a bit more drilling, and a bit of fiddling around with a Fickling's root pick, I decided to refer him to an oral surgeon to finish the job.

He asked, "You're quitting?"

Yeah - if I drill more, there is a miniscule risk of damaging your mental nerve. The nerve which supplies sensation to your lower lip. I don't feel like bearing this risk.

Well, the risk was minimally miniscule, but I thought it was a good excuse to stop before it turned into a major surgical extraction just before lunch time. Besides he had other clients to return to after his dental appointment. And he's already had other dental treatment. And that's why oral surgeons have the highest indemnity insurance fees out of all the specialists. All those claims for nerve damage!!!!

I've had a shit couple of days. I spent moday night in hospital with a friend (don't ask - I dont't want to talk about it now, and it's not something I think should be discussed right now either). I didn't get any sleep for about 25 hours, 5 the night before. No food for 18 hours and no fluids for about 8. I was feeling pretty crap by the time I got out of there at 9am. I had things to sort out before I got some sleep - I didn't exactly enjoy that.
The worst's over now but I still have to deal with the fallout for god knows how long. It might even take a turn for the worse!

I really don't want this kind of bollocks!

I tried to node a couple of thoughts I'd had going through my head at the time and was duly shitted on from a great height. My ego's greatly deflated, and I have to do some more stuff tonight when all I want to do is curl up in front of TV with my girfriend.

today is my half birthday.

i'm exactly 23.5 years old.

hail eris.

i also got downvoted for the first time today.

ah, the singular joys of the newbie.

I don't normally write day-logs, unless I have several interesting things to talk. Or one really really interesting thing. It's all subjective I guess. Here are my interesting things -

How did I turn into one of THOSE people? On Monday morning I was talking to Wendy from the American Composer's Forum when someone knocked on my door. It was a kid selling magazines. I told him to come back in ten minutes when I was off the phone and he did. This is how I met Sean.

Sean had bad skin and he smelled like pot. He was a few years younger than me and on a nationwide selling spree, trying to win $5,000 for college. He was a good salesman - I know this because my father is a car salesman, and he's so good it's scary. I invited Sean in because it was cold outside. I gave him a cup of my good coffee and bummed a Marlboro Red off him. We talked about what we want to really do with our lives. We talked about music. We talked about what a crock Rolling Stone has become. I wrote him a check for forty dollars for a two year subscription to Spin. He proclaimed that my order put him in first place, gave me an official-looking receipt, thanked me, and promptly left after finishing his coffee and stubbing out his cigarette.

Later that day, I had mole removals performed on my right shoulder blade and right ass cheek. As I was limping up the stairs back to my apartment, parts of my conversation with Sean started sounding suspicious. "What time is your surgery?" "Nice computer." "Do you live alone?" Etc. etc. By this time I hobbling up the stairs far too fast, making my ass bleed.

My door wasn't kicked open. All my stuff was still there. I instantly felt guilty. Poor kid. I guess I deserve the stoicism I've run into as I've tried to obtain funding for a new project this week.

Last Friday I finished my latest composition, a 90-second film score for Turner Classic Movie's Young Film Composers Competition. It was a milestone in my career and the reason everything2 has gotten the business end of the Ignoring Stick for a while. This was the first thing I've written from a compositional standpoint that I've completed since 1997. True, it's only ninety seconds long, but its the best thing I've written and has opened up mental doors and removed blocks from my creative process. Everyone that's heard it has been amazed, even me. I like surprising myself.

I'm getting the wheels spinning on a new project I want to start. It involves the composition of new solo and chamber works for young instrumentalists. For many symphonic and orchestral instruments (and I think themusic would agree with me here), a huge gap exists between music for beginners and literature for advanced and virtuoso players: very little music exists for the median student. I think this has something to do with why many kids who take up a musical instrument just give it up after a while. To put it in geek terms, if you had to go from writing simple HTML to Assembly and C++ with nothing in between and you had no way to learn the ins and outs of the language before you began, would you still be a programmer?

I'm beginning by writing "Five pieces for Clarinet", a programmatic piece in five movements which requires five different types of clarinet to be played by one performer. It will be aimed at the clarinetist who has a decent level of experience with the common Bb instrument and will introduce that player to the other four types of clarinet normally in use today. I'm hoping this could turn into a large-scale series of pieces for each instrument (by several composers) which suffers from a lack of literature.

My 22nd birthday is Monday, April 2nd. I'm doing my 21st year over again, since my 21st year kinda blew until last week. I got a fatty tax return so the composition train can keep rolling for a few more months.

If you'd like to hear my film score or you would like more information on my educational series, /msg me.
I'm #58 out of the 100 safest Papa John's Pizza delivery drivers in the entire world. I saw it on a list up at work yesterday, so it has to be true, right? With my year and a half's work, I've amassed a whopping 1300 hours of accident-free driving. The guy in the #1 position has 8200 hours.

8200 hours!

A year is only 8766 hours long. This dude has spent almost an entire, non-stop, no breaks, no snacks, no sleep year of his life delivering hot pizza goodness to the folk of some lucky township here in the great American midwest. Sorta like a prison sentence, only you get to serve it in your car.

It's time for me to find a new job...

Something where the money I take home does not depend upon the speed at which I move. Something that doesn't make my car smell like well-processed food-like material. Something where my life doesn't flash before my eyes every time some dipshit tries to make a very red light while I'm going through the very green one. Something that involves sitting on my bum behind a console of some sort.

It's not that I don't still enjoy driving. The solace is blissful. I get to think about whatever interesting things I choose to, in whatever depth I desire. I get the satisfaction of making 3500 pounds of steel go in whatever direction I wish, at whatever speed I wish. I can turn up my stereo, and listen to one of my many wicked mixtapes, or I can turn off the stereo, heater, and everything else, and listen to the soft brown noise of rain hitting my windshield. I also get to take home up to $70 in springy, green, tax-free cash at the end of the evening.

In many ways it's the perfect job, especially on a good night. I'm sure I'll miss it, but the threat of becoming an 8200 hours man looms too close for comfort.

I'm still Matrix 2-scouting. I'm such a geek! Sometimes it surprises me. But at least there's a bit of sentimentality to it. The day before Easter, 1999, I drove through pounding rain in a slippery Neon to study finite math with my new friend, and afterwards (as a reward, since I hated the class) go see The Matrix. Two years later, we are still together and in love.

Anyway, we'll see if I spot anything interesting tonight or tomorrow. Yesterday at the naval base I only saw a warehouse full of Cadillac Escalades, a bunch of police cars, and a fake Highway 101 sign. Apparently they filmed at the Webster Tube yesterday morning, which is cool 'cause I drive through it every day to work.

Tomorrow at 6 pm PST, I'll be trying to call in to Who Wants to be a Millionaire in hopes of landing a San Jose audition. Think good thoughts! I need the money for Stanford. And besides noding on E2, what else is a brain full of trivia good for, eh?
Home sweet home.

I was back east visiting my sick grandmother, parents, and high-school friends. A roundtrip twenty hours of driving on fucking I-80.

On I-80, somewhere in the middle of godforsaken Pennsylvania, the road is barcoded for a short segment. In both directions, there is a segment with srtipes of yellow and white paint running perpendicular to the direction of travel. I suppose that's how they test out different types of road paint, but all I could think of is what would happen if some linux geek drove by with a laptop and a :CueCat. What would the road say? "Yes, you're still in Pennsylvania." or "Do you really want to go to Ohio?" or "Isn't it illegal to reverse engineer one of those things?"

We're supposed to be going to Italy on Friday. Today Aer Lingus announced that they are going on strike the very same day. A week before Easter. On the cusp of the weekend.

Aer Lingus aren't only the major Irish airline - they are also the official handlers for Dublin Airport, which means that any other airline dependant on their ground services is going to be out of working order.

They offered to put us on another flight on Sunday. We're meant to be leaving Venice on Sunday, so that's a great help, thankyouverymuchyoubastartds.

Eventually my husband got a cab to the airport and went to give out to them in person. They are now putting us on a flight tomorrow afternoon, which means another day off work and getting into Venice in the middle of the night. But that's out only option - it's either that or cancel the holiday.

Yes, everybody has the right to strike. But that doesn't make their right right.

What started out as an innocent pointing out of the "better-than-you" attitude I've gotten from many people on the system turned into a full-fledged "tear into PUssyKat because she had the nerve to say something un-flattering about our beloved E2".

I love E2 as well.

Just because I've only got 20 write-ups doesn't mean I'm not allowed to have an opinion on the place. You people who trashed me in E2 is Unfriendly to New Noders just proved my point. I couldn't even share my feelings about it with you without becoming a whiney bitch who lacks the clout and priveledge of speaking her mind.

I wasn't trying to insult you.

But people read something negative, and rather than try and find the source of the problem and try to rectify it, they make it worse and then shoot the messenger. Did it ever dawn on anyone that maybe I'm not the first to have these thoughts? Of course it must have, there's loads of nodes out there with the same theme.

I'm not wrong just because I disagree with you.

Suddenly I write trash and I want attention for being a female. Suddenly any talent or poignant thought that I might have had is drowning in my apparent ignorance of this blissful place.

E2 is beautiful. It's a wonderful idea. I wholeheartedly support it.

But I have just as much right to work to make it a better place as those of you who have been here for years.

The very first thing I read when I came to Everything2 was a little piece by dem bones in a node called "Why you are the most important person here." It was beautiful, it inspired me. I knew at once that this was a place I would love.

Those of you who've been attacking me, telling me I don't know enough about the site to say anything, telling me I haven't been around long enough to "complain", calling me a whiney bitch and attacking the quality and uniqueness of my work just because I happen to run my own website, well, maybe YOU should re-read the premise behind this place we've met at. Maybe you should remember why YOU are the most important person here, and why this place is beautiful.

This place is fucking beautiful.
Today was much less exciting than yesterday. TC was very down today about her now-long-distance boyfriend not having called in two days. I tried to reassure her by saying he was probably just busy getting settled in.

I took my brother out for Thai food for dinner. He likes hot foods, and tried the medium level and was fairly comfortable with it. We then swung by Best Buy where I picked up Fight Club and Ghost in the Shell while my brother picked up a CD by Uncle Kracker

I got an email this morning from Sara. She always seems to be sort of flighty about anything that might indicate a relationship between us. She said she was just sleepy when she put her head on my shoulder yesterday. But that couldn't have been just sleepy. She took my hand and put it on her leg, and then sort of wrapped her arms around my arm and sighed. I can't imagine all that just from being sleepy! I've been daydreaming about that moment all day today.

I've heard it from others as well as somewhat from her directly that she's just very nervous about getting into a relationship. This is probably just be part of that. I'm fairly sure we have broken down some barriers with our long talk last weekend. Maybe now she's a bit nervous to move into this new territory.

Maybe I'm just saying all this to make myself feel better.

I want to feel like I did yesterday forever.

I made my best friend mad at me.

This day is not the best. I'm sorry...it stinks...downvote this, I don't care. I have XP to burn anyway. Hell, if you downvote my dream log you might as well downvote anything. Which you did, so go away.

Anyway, it's been nothing less than a stressful week. I have seminars to go to, exams to take, I'm just not cutting it in college. I've been there four years and have nothing to show for it but a list of "elective classes" that have nothing to do with my major.

And then I go and make fun of my best friend's weaknesses. Good going, Merrye.

But I'm a damn optimist and I have to mention something good that happens once in awhile. I did sleep well last night. You really have to appreciate that when it happens.

Now time for something that sounds less like a teenage journal...

Last night I engaged in the practice of subconscious noding. I awoke in the middle of the night and began to think about how I was being suffocated by the presence of my boyfriend in the bed next to me. To keep myself from going crazy, I started writing a node about it in my half-asleep half-awake state. I could see the purple background of the water theme in my mind's eye and everything. I could see my badass formatting and the unordered lists making my node logical and fun to read. I wish I could remember half of the points I made in that dream state about why sleeping with someone is confining and not comforting. But then I got up to go to the bathroom and when I came back, he left me alone and I could sleep again.

For those of you that haven't seen my home node, I have started the practice of looking for users that are good and voting their writeups up. I didn't know it was called node tag until today. I like looking for good writeups and I feel really bad when I vote dump in day logs or randomly vote up everything that has to do with frogs, cheese, or Karl Marx. I like to give some real people some deserved recognition in the form of reputation which, although it is vehemently denied around here more for show than anything, is quite important in a place like this. Especially for newer people. And I have found some amazing people. Especially dreamtimer. (That was unsolicited, by the way).

I ramble, huh? It's fun though, I know there are a few of you who use my day logs to figure out wtf is going on with me...so here is your info and my catharsis.

Let me tell you something about the dark goddess. She is not a plaything, she is nothing to take lightly, she is not a flame to dance friviously with. It may seem like all fun and games, like she is a nice source of warmth and and titilating guile. But this is her illusion. She is a creature bent on consuming you and what mettle you are made of. Either give yourself as fodder and pray she leaves enogh ashes to for you to piece back together later. Or make yourself iron, hard, cold to the touch, but barely maleable in her heat. And you will survive to dance another day.

There is no pleading with her, you can not give her guilt as a gift in hopes to change her, and do not show that you rely on her in any way. NEVER expect to receive the truth from her lips, and perhaps you will only be singed. There is always something else she has a taste for and she has not been sated. She likes what she can only bend, never what she can break.

Burn slowly, dearheart.

My first day home.

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