Tag Archives: love


12 Mar

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Shuggie. You probably don’t realize it, but the only reason I’m not a wreck is because of how you’ve handled this whole thing. Thank you. If I ever have any way to help you (in my power), I will, you can count on it.

Today was pretty alright, did nothing in most of my classes (alright!) and got my Mini Gusto sorted out- I’m working for the Avis (a local newspaper) for a week, which’ll be fine and dandy. Sort of looking forward to it.
Also, also, um…um okay, I actually did have something to write about but it flew away as soon as I reached for it. I tend to have thoughts like that quite often, as my head is full of tiny holes and things are pretty prone to sloshing out.
Angstwise, I am coping somehow with my soap-opera of a love life: here, let me paraphrase it for you:
My long-time crush suddenly starts dating my best friend, sending me into irrational amounts of shock. Then one of the guys I started to fall for decided he was gay, and the other one suddenly got a significant other with no prior warning. And Jamesey is an android.
I kind of hate my luck with this requited love shindig. I’m not very good at it, obviously, but I hope that changes soon. Maybe in Paris (despite the horrible ratio) I’ll get a guy who doesn’t care about all the things I’ve done wrong. That’d be nice, I suppose. But I’m not expecting anything- stuff like the above can do that. I don’t expect anything special.
And the concept’s nice, but is not going to happen, so why should I even care?
And the apathy attacks.

Will write more later, maybe.

born on a day the sun didn’t rise

4 Mar

Title is from the eponymous Black Moth Super Rainbow song, it is lovely and smoothly electronica, much like basically everything else they’ve done. I love their music, it is psychadelic but soes not force itself on you.
So! Today was alright, besides the terrifying Chem test that turned out not to be quite as terrifying as most of us expected. Thanks, Mr. Summerhayes. That was kind of you.
Also brought out my headphones, they were met by much oohing and aahing, mainly culminating in asking me “Aren’t they the same kind as Jake’s?” (they are, just bright purple). Billy wanted to buy them from me. Um, no.

Apart from all that, though, I’m feeling a little disjointed about that reoccuring issue. Um, I don’t have anyone to angst about anymore. It is a weird, weird feeling. I kind of want something embarrassing to happen to me so I can have more material to write about. Unfortunately, I am outside any drama that is currently happening, and kind of enjoying my apathetic jellyfish-like state.
It is not nearly as bad as I thought, this lack of love business.

Trying to get my Last.fm thing to show how much I really do listen to Sigur Ros and White Denim, unfortunately they have no way of tracking how many plays you’ve logged on a CD (hundreds for Takk…, at least 50 for Exposition/Fits) and so I must use my iPod far more often than usual to listen to things. (Well, I don’t really have to, but why not?)

Had a dream last night, I will type it up as soon as my little sister gets off the large computer.

Also: Hello, all you who’ve come here from Facebook. Thanks for clicking.

we’re floating in space

24 Feb

Do you realize?

Today I suddenly got to a conclusion; I am leaving Hove and Taschen behind me and moving on. I will still be their friends, but the romantic tendrils are going to be cut.
I am tired of my terrible luck.

Also: when I am near a person who I admire/do not want to appear idiotic in front of, I speak very little.
I need to change that.


goodbye, babylon

23 Feb

Too fucking late.

I waited too long, and now it’s over- she is like me, gets along with me, but shorter and more erudite in conversation. Even the music taste is similar! Oh, fuck it all- fuck it all. I knew it would come to this eventually, I was kind of sort of prepared for this, but it hurts a little bit nonetheless.
My Daoist nature works against me in romantic matters. Maybe if I took someone’s advice and struck up a conversation-
But I am so very afraid of shattering my friendships, of appearing stupid. I am much more composed when I write things down rather than say them- for one thing, I see what I want to say and can say it more concisely, and for another, I speak very stupidly and slowly and nervously- I don’t want him to snicker at my nervous stutters.
It is so hard to do this.


I want to be his friend.


I want to be able to speak intelligently.


I want-

I will survive for now, for now.

i wanna be your only friend

9 Feb

I am utterly relaxed at the moment. Nothing short of a very short angry person could bug me at the moment (short people intimidate me), I am content and kind of formulating poem ideas in my head. I don’t feel like writing poetry, though, so instead I’m just lying here reading Cracked.com articles and watching the battery on my iPod slowly dwindle.
Well: Things are pretty great, at least on the emotional front. I have moved on from Wil and Lillian (though they are just sickeningly adorable together- it makes me have to restrain the urge to encase them both in a MONDO-HUG), which is quite a relief. I’m still on the fence w/ Taschen and Hove (probably will need new codenames soon, or I’m gonna stop writing about them), but that is unimportant because hey, I like being single. Well, until I go to a party or something and see everyone having fun and I enter an existential crisis and it all goes to hell in a handbasket.
I’m a party pooper!

Occasionally, though, I get these little flashes of perspective- “you are not really that bad off, you just have a limited pool” or (in my mother’s voice) “there’s no rush, it’ll only be better if you wait” and it kind of makes me feel a little better.
I’m coming off as needy, I know. But I know- I know I’ll find someone; there’s no rush. I’ll wait.

Title, btw, is from Of Montreal’s Gallery Piece, which is catchy and filthy and makes me dance.

Goodnight- hope your dreams are full of manatees frolicing peacefully.

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19 Jan

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16 Jan

Third day of my White Denim listening marathon. I am surprisingly coping pretty well with the sheer amount of crazy energy this music has. Gah tomorrow I’m listening to Sufjan.

Anyway, I’ve been trying to write songs all through christmas break, but I am not very good at it so I usually end up with about half a stanza and some scribbles.
Here’s some of the better ones:
“Well, the neverending condescending advancesof your throne/are throwning butterfingered passes that dance and shatter through my bones/ I’ll whime away the moonlight clear/come stop & stay a moment-oh my dear!”
“clock towers on an elevation ‘high'”
“go, taste the moonlight/drink like a unicorn/deep drafts of light down your downy throat”

I also rewrote some of the lyrics to Steam Engine because I never could remember them (and still can’t):
” take your money, don’t look back (x3)
and to anyone who wonders/bout that old familar breeze/it’s twilight in the garden/over red Ponoka seas/we’re peekin’ out through darkness/ the bullet hits our knees/ your skin looks good in moonlight/please stay a while with me…”
For some reason, that song seems to fill all the gaps in my heart where the pieces didn’t quite fit together. I love that song. It is very capable of making me bawl (I am a wimp, I know).
On the topic of broken hearts, however, I am doing alright with regards to Fauberge and Shuggie. I am actually a little thankful. It was a necessary pain, and now that it’s happened I actually feel like myself again. I am so glad for them.
The only thing that’s weird about it is the third-wheel feeling I get whenever I’m around them, like I’m intruding on their world of two (kudos for anyone who gets that reference). I am a stubborn thing, though, and so weird feelings be damned, I am going to talk to my Fauberge. Which I have done, thank you very much.
Well, it’s nice to feel pretty peaceful about these things. I may be taking a step forward in the accquisition of a “Shuggie” of my own. Who knows? Only time will tell, and I am not one to rush these things (at least not anymore).


I keep remembering that it’s a three day weekend, and every time I do my heart kind of does a little handstand in my chest. SWEEEEEET
Probably going to make some more little bobbypin twig things today. We’ll see how it goes. And I’m going to ask my dad about hosting a little movie night tomorrow, we’ll see how that goes as well.

mind the curves

7 Jan

I’m alright.

Or at least I will be.

All of my friends are getting boyfriends; once again, I am the perpetual third wheel.
I don’t know why. I don’t understand. I don’t understand why there isn’t anyone out there who

(loves me)

There has to be, there has to be.
That’s my mantra.
There has to be someone who loves me.

reeling beneath my skin

7 Jan

now i’m crying.

Fu- no, no; this is not the right time for that, this is a time for the tears to flow, for my heart to try to heal itself.

Why am I so affected?

Why do I want to leave this place?

Why do I want someone to encase me in a warm hug?

Well, hell if I know, but i am a gibbering mess right now and would love to vanish, maybe, into the clouds above and rematerialize somewhere where I can cry out all my tears and fix this torn heart of mine.
Hove, Faschen- where are you when I need you?

And not even the relentless joy of Steam Engine can help me now.

fenestrial staircases

7 Jan

Haha Ryan, that is the best word ever.

Well, Fauberge fell for Shuggie. It was pretty inevitable, really, and I’m quite amazed that I’m not as hurt by it as I am. Sure, I feel a little sad/jealous, but it’s not enough to make me cry.
And I think (AHAHA NEW CODENAMES) Hove and Taschen are really helping. I think I can leave Shuggie in the past; today it wasn’t real weird talkin’ to him, it wasn’t really weird sittin’ by him sittin’ with Fauberge. It was heartrending, the look in his eyes, though, and the little stutter- I will never have that side of him presented to me, but that’s something I’ve got to accept.
But Taschen. Taschen. I don’t know what the hell is going on with me about Taschen- I’m going to leave him in my head for the moment, at least until the mysteries around him start to clear up.
Hove is a different story. He is wonderful and I don’t know what to do about him either.
Goddammit, love is fuckin’ ridiculous. I’d rather live a life without it, but it would be lonely and terrible.

Maybe. Maybe eventually I will find someone who thinks I am awesome; thinks I am wonderful, etcetera, etcetera.
It’ll come. I’ll wait.