outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary

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gah, I almost forgot! Well, it'll have to go in the next entry.

Ash -- you're an asshole sometimes. Take your note in my guestbook, for example. Look at that from my point of view. I'm sick of tap-dancing around your feelings. Understand that sometimes you play the bastard, and then see why sometimes people are "poopy" to you. Your "I'm an asshole; not my fault if people don't believe it" is no excuse. I'm not mad at you. I'm just telling you what I'm sick of not saying.

Rob, if you're reading this, what I was referring to is in my last entry. But you're not reading this, so why do I even bother?

The logic of that last paragraph brings me to my next question: what happens when the brain thinks about itself?

I just had an epiphany. Somewhere in my brain, a switch was switched. I just went from "everyone's crazy and I have to protect myself" to "everyone's crazy and I'm glad to be a part of it." Of course, these things never last. But it's nice to nurture the thought, for a little while.

Well, life is good. Take my meeting with Bolo as exhibit A. It was lots of fun, you guys. I recommend this personage for parties and corporate gatherings. Anyone who can laugh for thirty seconds about a waiter bringing him an extraneous water is ok in my book. And I got to do one of those things I always wanted to do when I was in college: discuss something really above and beyond what most people know in a public place and impress passers-by. I don't really know if anyone was impressed by our rather meager understanding of the recently-post-Big-Bang universe, but we impressed me. When I got home last night, I intended to pore over my astronomy books for answers until the wee hours, but I didn't because...um, I don't know. Because the tv is so bright and flickery.

I thought I would call Rob and tell him I was home safely, and rub in the fact that he probably didn't even realize I'd been gone. But I didn't. And then he called me at about eleven (rushing me off the toilet, the bugger) to see that I was home. I was pretty surprised. Of course, I had only seen him the day before and maybe I actually managed to drill some detail of my non-Rob life into his head, but I wasn't expecting to. Well...that was nice.

I sent him an email today telling him to read my latest entry for enlightenment, only I didn't say the for enlightenment part. He's read the email but he hasn't been by, if my stats are accurate. So, I don't know. What really bothers me is being beyond the anger, but still not having things resolved. And he's not good about saying he's sorry, when he thinks what he's done isn't a big deal. Even if I think it is.

I write all this for the sake of those who don't understand the nature of love. For those of you who think it should be perfect. And for those of you who think that when it isn't perfect, it isn't working.

Now if someone could tell me why I have all these scary Boys II Men songs, reminiscent of my first real boyfriend, stuck in my head, I'd be a happy woman. He was the first person I ever said I love you to, without meaning it. And he was the first person I ever kissed. And he was the first person I ever dated who had really, really awful taste in music.

I don't miss him. Come to think of it, I don't usually miss much of anyone, with the exception of my really close friends and the occasional person who has slipped into my past. No, I take it back, I do miss people sometimes. I wonder if I should miss them more...I wonder if I'm taking people for granted and won't know it until they or I am gone. I would hate for that to be the case.

But as we are all aware, you can't corral your emotions. They are what they are, with our without your permission.

Which is not to say that suddenly becoming aware of something new won't make your feelings alter or seem trivial. Which is not to say a lot of things, really. I should stop trying to be the last word on everything. I know you guys don't really take it all to heart.

I just can't help feeling like you should be able to. I would love to be considered above reproach -- at least in my own estimation. I hate to leave something unsaid, something uncovered; I'd just hate for anyone to say that I'm not seeing the big picture.

I wonder why I care. I'm not sure. I'll have to think on it, and probably come up with diddly squat. Or doodly squat, as Kurt Vonnegut would say, which is quite a bit cuter but doesn't sound as minimal as the one with the diddly ;)

Ooh! I'm looking at an apartment tomorrow. This is kind of a stupid story. When Rob and I were bopping around on the subway trying to meet my parents et al for dinner the other night, I saw a poster for an apartment stuck on a slab of wall. I ripped off a little tag with the person's number on it, but as the train was about to open its doors, I never read the description. But I called the person yesterday and made an appointment to come see the place tomorrow. But I know nothing about it, other than its very general location, and the fact that its a studio, as I gleaned over the phone. During the lunch hour today I ran back to the T station to read about it, but of course the posters failed to still be there. So I have no idea what this place is or if it suits my needs in any way, but oh well, it's the loss of, what, one hour of my Saturday? It won't be so bad. I'm digging open the frail map of Boston that I got when I first moved here a year ago to see if I can locate the street its on...(rip, rip, tear, tear) Oh geez. Poor little map. Which does not, in fact, contain the neighborhood I'm interested in. Ah well.

I have to go to the bathroom, so let's wrap this up. Say hi to everyone for me. I'll be at Downtown Crossing, shopping for dresses. If that has any importance to you whatsoever.

2:35 p.m. - 2002-04-05

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