Now that I've gotten all that bullshit about current events out of the way, I can talk about more important things.
I had an interesting dream a couple nights ago.
Katie and Chris were getting married, and it was their wedding day. Yvette was there to pick me up, decked out in a red velvet dress (more a burgundy, really), with a standing lace collar. I can't do justice to the dress by description, all I know is it looked fabulous. After much persuasion to get me into my own dress, we finally went to the wedding, which was being held in an old mansion.There were a lot of people, all dressed in stuff you normally wouldn't see outside of some of the more outre fashion shows. And they all came up to greet me, hold hands, mock kiss. I sat there for a while, talking to Yvette, and waiting for the ceremony to start. Chris had just come out, replete in tux, when I woke up.
This dream was interesting, because I don't know Yvette. We live several states away from each other. I've never e-mailed her. I just read her journal from time to time. I feel funny dreaming about her, like an unintentional stalker. It must have been because I was looking at the pictures she had up of herself on her site.
Anyway, the bane of my existence, at the moment, is the fact that I am completely incapable of reading trashy romance novels. Until about three weeks ago, I couldn't get enough of them. Now they make me feel vaguely queasy. I've been counteracting this by reading T.S. Eliot and other mind-expanding literature.
Today, after the holiday (whatever the hell it was. Don't go all PC on me.), I started working full-time. I am kind of looking forward to this, because it eventually means freedom. But I know I have to start getting more sleep, because waking up at 5:30 in the morning hurts when you've been up ‘till midnight on the Internet. It's not as if I do much of anything, other than talking to people and waiting to see if C– comes on.
I sometimes get tired of waiting for him.
If you've e-mailed me recently, I'm sorry. I really am as antisocial as I sound these days, especially when it comes to people I don't already know. I'm blasted, worn-out, and bitter. Unless you have more than an offhand comment or question, I really can't guarantee you'll ever get a response.
I spent a lot of time angry last night. I was also being pestered by my parents, because I "wouldn't tell them what was wrong." Fuck me. If I don't bring it up, it automatically shouldn't be any of their business. My father spent ten minutes bothering me while I was trying to watch tv (for the first time in weeks), asking me what was wrong, pointing out that I was acting like I had a problem. He also mentioned, several times, that he's perfectly willing to listen if I want to talk. He got offended when I made it clear there wasn't anything to talk about, and most certainly nothing I'd care to discuss with him.
Poor fucking Pollyanna. How the hell did I get him for a father?
Here's a question: has anyone taken notice of the high number of twenty-something Swedish males dating teenage American girls through the Internet? Okay, so I only know of two right offhand, but that's enough to suggest a trend. And they're really ugly, too. Maybe that's why they're driven to find girlfriends through the Internet.
Perhaps it's time to abandon this line of questioning.
(11:00 am)I've done a bit of housekeeping. Bye-bye survey. Bye-Bye irritating design on the cast page. Hello, new bio page.
I am so goddamn bored. Boredboredboredboredbored. You have no idea. I am bored as only a receptionist out of cigarettes in DC can be.
Aaron quit the band again. What a complete flake. He said that we never wanted to play his songs. No shit. They're joke songs. All of them. Not a serious one in the lot. And I don't know his songs, anyway. I don't know what he thinks he's going to do now -- probably sleep in.
Hey, Cuntface? You still there? I just noticed something. You know, on Roachboy's Page, he's still got a link up for his old girlfriend/fiancee. The one who dumped him because he's obsessive. Why is that? Maybe he wishes you were her, huh? Are you uglier than her? Take heart, doll-face. The photo was probably air-brushed, anyway.
Does he make you wear a strap-on? Did he at least buy you a new one, or is he making you wear the one he bought his ex? I have nothing against strap-ons, per se, but I am against someone pressuring you to use sexual devices that you find repugnant. And/or coercing you into sexual practices that disgust/hurt you. I would never use a strap-on, and not because I'm frigid or unimaginative. I just don't see the point.
Never mind the smell.
I'm wearing my sandalwood cologne, and I'm pleased with the scent. I don't want to smoke today, though, because it's a very delicate odor, and I don't want to cancel it out.
(3:30 pm) It might interest you to know that I'm not like this in person. Those few of you who talk to me via AIM, ICQ, or semi-frequent e-mail know that I'm not nearly this mean. This journal is why I'm not this mean. I use it as a place to purge all the unkind, ugly feelings. This, however, isn't the only function. If it was, I could simply talk to a bottle of water and get the same results, without the added bonus of being able to remember just how pissed off I was each day. Also, the bottle of water wouldn't be read by my obsessive ex to keep tabs on me.
Try writing when you know someone you dislike intensely is basically looking over your shoulder for something he can snicker about with his pet cow – I mean, fiancee. I'd move the journal, but I have too much pride. I'll stick this out longer than he will. And I get to insult him for free, without actually having contact with him.
But I'm not going to dedicate this to an explanation of why I write this. I just wanted you to know that I'm honestly not this mean.
Unless I want to be.
Anyway, I've been spending most of my free time at RedMeat. This guy's cartoons are carried in the CityPaper here. He's published at least one collection, and I think these are the only cartoons that make me laugh now. Perhaps this says something about my sense of humor?
I've also been reading If you see her, say hello. I like spiders, personally.
Dirk called at 1:00 to tell me that he hadn't gone to sleep yet. He was admirably chagrined when I reminded him that I was supposed to be visiting that night, and I damn well wasn't going to stick around if he didn't wake up. He begged me not to be mad, and I agreed to wake him up when I came over. And to really try to wake him up, instead of giving him a couple half-hearted nudges and storming off.
Did I tell you that Alex ended up with my phone book? See, my secret division has a phone book for all the employees in our building. I was careful to write my name in indelible ink on the inside cover of the book A week after I got it, the phone book disappeared. I asked Alex if he'd seen it several times, and got a negative response. Finally, last week, I got sick of not having a phone book and started looking on his desk for one. Wouldn't you know it? He's had my phone book all along....so, I wrote my name all over the spine and pages of the book, so you can see it no matter which way you look at it.
That boy's not quite right in the head.
Now I am waiting to see if C-- e-mails me. That rhymed too much for my peace of mind, sorry. I've learned over the past year not to expect him to. If he thinks I expect him to respond, he becomes less likely to respond. At least, that's how I rationalize it to myself. It's probably just random.
All this entertainment value, and I get paid, too!