Please don't tell me you've been waiting breathlessly for the next installment of my life.
This will be the third attempt I've made at writing an entry. The other two were too revealing and too cynical. They got trashed after just a few lines.
After my last entry, as some of you know, I graduated to vodka (straight). Other than the alcohol content, I cannot see drinking this stuff. It honestly smells and tastes like rubbing alcohol. Meanwhile, I was pestering C--. I'm hoping he isn't so offended that he quits talking to me, although he did send me a fact sheet on coricidin the next day. So it can't be all bad.
As to the looking in thing: I got another e-mail from the girl, but I was pretty trashed when I got it, so I deleted it. I didn't even read it. I doubt it was any more cohesive than the original. But I'm just going to go ahead and delete her from my links anyway. I'm sure she'll appreciate it, and her site has held no appeal for me since she graduated from whining about her depression to whining about her boyfriend.
Friday was mostly uneventful. Saturday, we had practice. I admit, Aaron is starting to get on my nerves. He's polite, don't get me wrong, but I don't have the patience to muddle around while he learns the songs. And he and Dirk tend to start jerking off via their guitars at the same time. The last time this happened, I started banging open-handed on my bass strings until they stopped, then informed them that we were there to fucking practice, not listen to them play pop songs.
They were exceptionally polite for the rest of practice. Poor DoShu. We're doing "Pale Blue Eyes" again, and he's been drafted to play bass. He's never played an instrument in his life. He's showing marked improvement, though. He now rivals Roachboy for bass playing skill, and Saturday was only his second time picking up the instrument.
Sunday, we went up to Tower and looked at all the books and Hello Kitty Merchandise. They don't have any of the really neat sex comics anymore. The ones they do have are for gay men. And they're in plastic wrapping.
On monday, I went to pick Dirk up from work and --guess what?-- he wasn't there. I asked one of his coworkers if he'd already gotten off, and she told me his mother came to pick him up. I was angry. I hate being forgotten, especially if I'm doing the other person a favor. I debated whether to go by his house to fetch him or to simply go home and wait for Dirk to call me, begging for forgiveness.
It's more fun to watch people squirm in person.
So, I went to pick him up. I walked into his house without knocking, and waited outside the bathroom. He came out, spotted me, and was instantly apologetic. And hugging me. And explaining that he hadn't remembered I was going to pick him up until he was already on the way home in his mother's van. When I didn't seem moved by his apologies, he started crying.
Please, throw shit at me, hit me, scream at me. But don't cry. I can't handle it when other people cry. I always crumble. I felt so bad. But I didn't let him know that, not immediately.
Keeping my cold look firmly in place, I asked him (albeit gently), if he was going to put his shoes on and come along, or if he planned on making me wait all day. Thus having prodded him into action, I let him think I was still horrifically angry at him until we were in my room and he was lying dejected on my bed. Then I let him know it was okay.
The rest of the day was great, except for not having enough cash at the grocery store. And I went clothes-shopping with my mother, and found a black skirt that fit and looked okay. I also found this lovely pink sports jacket in silk that I'd have gotten, except my chest is too big. So when I go shopping on Wednesday with Katie, I'm going to be tricked out in a sports bra, to see if I can manage it.
Last night was spent drinking too much iced tea and trying to compose an e-mail to C--. That didn't work out at all. I kept rejecting everything for overt sentimentality, depression, and just plain stupidity. I ended up transcribing a part of one of T.S. Eliot's "Four Quartets" and sending it to him.
I only got four hours of sleep. I meant to go to sleep immediately after I got offline, but I got caught up in an old favorite, "Black Beauty". Granted, I could read this book easily when I was nine, but it caught my eye. And I wanted to read the part where Ginger died again.
On the way home from practice on Saturday, I had a little singalong with myself. Dirk was sleeping next to me, and Aaron was dozing in the back with instruments piled on his lap. I think I exhausted the library of songs I can sing, besides Janis Joplin. I wouldn't want to sully Aaron's fond memories of Sonia singing to him.....
(12:15pm) I'm starving. I'd even be happy if I had something to drink right now. But Alex is at lunch, leaving me here to suffer.
Something interesting about my procedure (why invite trouble?): I don't get cramps anymore. I've had my period for quite a few days, and I'm getting nothing in the way of cramps. This might be a one-shot deal, though. They may come back full force next month.
(2:55 pm) Of all the things they do not have on the Internet, a comprehensive T.S. Eliot site is one of the most glaring.
Okay, now I'm irritated. I called Dirk up, the phone was given to Dirk, and apparently he only managed to say "Hello" before falling asleep. I didn't know if I was on permanent hold, or what. So, I hung up and re-dialed. Unfortunately, he didn't even wake up enough to hang up the goddamn phone. So I'm getting a busy signal. God only knows how long it will be before someone notices that he's lying on the couch with a dead phone gripped in his hand.