November 2006 Archives

OH MY GOD. The most amazing thing happened tonight.

I foudn out my assignment due date was extended. So Joey and I went out and got SHITFACED. I have a random scarf on. BUT ANYWAY.

JOey and I went to Crews, because Mick E Fynn's sucked. And we got there and waited for Oli. THE WHOLE TIME we were talkign about how we wanted to drag queen to do "And I am telling you" THE WHOLE TIME. We even went back to the karaoke to see if if was there (It wasn't).

We considreed paying her off to do it. Eventually we got so trashed we forgot. Then, as part of her birthday last song thing. She was doing a song.

So we're watching. Then, all we hear is "And I am telling you ..."

To say we shit ourselves is an understatement. I BAWLEDZ. The whole time. And sang along. It was amazing. I love my life SO MUCH because of that song alone.

I want a Macbook. I want a Macbook. I want a Macbook. I want a Macbook. I want a Macbook.

Oh. And I wan't my homework to go away.

I've decided that since I'm obviously making absolutely no progress on the massive amount of homework I have to do in the next three days and that since it is making me physically ill to think about, I'm going to attempt to take my mind off of things. So here are some random updates.

I'm putting Allergic to Nuts on hold. I didn't care about the NaBloPoMo thing that much anyway. I just thought it would be fun to theme it. What I didn't realise is that it would (1) be so hard to write about and (2) that I would actually do everything in my power to avoid writing about it. So eventually I get on that and finish it up, and put it in its own separate category archive so it can be read in its entirety. It will be finished. There is so much that I would like to write about; at some point I WILL force myself to do it.

When I upgraded to MT3.33 things went to shit. The internet here doesn't cooperate so half the time I can't upload things to my server to upgrade software. MT 3.33 required me to upgrade Blogroll, an MT plugin by some guy. You will now see that it says "powered by blogroll" under the links. Maybe it's just me, but I was offended to the point where I almost broke something when I saw that he had inserted that into the code. Not because I wouldn't credit it. I have, and I would (will?) continue to do so. The fact that he felt it was his right to just add it bothered me. Who is he to decide he can clutter up my sidebar? What frustrated me more is that he has now added an ADDITIONAL thing on my already long list of things to do; many of them much more important. I now have to right a php script to filter that out to remove it so I can place it where I would like to, i.e. NOT on my sidebar right under my links.

I was gifted an electronic copy of McFly's new album, Motion in the Ocean, to hold me over until I can get my hands on a hard copy. I'm absolutely in love with it. Even taking into account that I'm one of the biggest McFly fan boys ever, I was still blown away. It exceeded every expectation I had for it.

Up until today I was incredibly excited for my birthday. It has since been overshadowed by the impending doom that I feel caused by my assignments and term tests. I would give anything to go shopping to make it feel better, only that can't happen; I spent two weekends ago maxing credit cards to cheer myself up. I'm still slightly excited about the birthday challenge, but recent developments have put a damper on things.

It is now 12:35. I need to do something productive.

I broke it again. Excuse the sidebar while I reorganise it.

Previously:
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine

He woke up confused. He'd had a bad dream; a nightmare if you were to get into the gory details. Admittedly he'd been having bad dreams recently. It had never been anything like this; not for a long time. It was nothing like this though. The other day he'd had a dream where he'd been forced to move out into a house that he had never seen until he got there, with the guy he adopted as a little brother and his floor president's girlfriend. Then they left him in the mouldy old dump and went off somewhere leaving him all alone. He'd hated it at the time, but now he'd do anything to go back to that.

Suddenly he was thrown into a confused world where he was surrounded by allergens and jogging with his Old Best Friend. The Old Best Friend he stopped talking to six years ago. Suddenly The Old Best Friend was on great terms with him now. Worse, The Old Best Friend was buddy-buddy with The Boy.

So while he was running through the field, "exercising", his Old Best Friend was on the phone with The Boy; half trying to hook him up, half trying to hook up with him on his own.

So it should be no surprise that he woke up with a start, and has been afraid to go back to bed since. And it just HAD to happen the morning of one of his term tests. Karma is such a bitch.

I shouldn't have upgraded to MT 3.3. This is where the problems are coming from.

I have a birthday challenge for people. Participation is NOT required. But if you would like to participate, you are awesome. My birthday is coming up, as most of you know. Instead of stressing out over what to get me, I have an idea. See, Adam said something that made me think. My room doesn't look like a room that someone lives in. There's just stuff here. So, here's the challenge.

Get a picture frame and your favourite picture of you and me, OR you, OR something stupid fresh that we did. That's it. It can be the cheapest frame ever. But at least it's an idea.

Anyone trying to follow the NaBloPoMo Story will have noticed that half of them don't show up, and that when the other half DOES show it up they're days late sometimes. The internet here is not cooperating. I appologize.

Previously:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five

When his Best Friend got here they went out for lattes - lattes and boys. Best way to get your mind off things. Unless of course the things your mind was on were lattes and boys. Then you'd have a problem. He spent most of his time bitching. While he was bitching came an attempt to justify all the judging. Of course you can never really justify judging, but in this case it came so easy. Sure, when he calmed down he would feel like a huge ass, but that wouldn't be for a few hours.

Since his biggest problem right now was that he couldn't stop thinking about The Boy and all the associated problems, he listened to stories about The Other Boy From Home. 'Listened to stories' was a nice way of saying he was getting dirt. Yes, he was a gossip. Get over it. It was the best way for him to try and get over it - that and eating a lot of gross caf food.

Previously:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four

He phoned his Best Friend and told him to come over a day early this week. He had been fine until the end of the day. Then he cracked. Night classes suck like that when your professor drones on about nothing for hours. He had long phone conversations with three people before he could get a hold of the Best Friend, who had told him he would get in as soon as possible. Until then he would just have to pass the time - like it would be something easy to do.

He had tried this before. It never worked well. He would sit with his floormates and judge people. Only, that could only cheer him up for so long. Then that bad feeling would come back and he would have to think of something else to do. His other floormates would be playing videogames; probably in his room. So he would play with them until the name Roy made him so angry he was tempted to break stuff.

So he kicked them out, and sat. He sat and he waited for a phone call saying his Best Friend was here.

Previously:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three

He'd spent most of his evening with his floor mates ignoring his problems. By which he meant he spent the night bitching to as many people as possible; friends from high school, people on his floor, people on other floors, and anyone foolish enough to have been on MSN at the time. It would help him later on, but right now he was too annoyed to be observant.

He didn't just bitch about this Boy. He bitched about people who were skeezebags. Why did he know so many skeezebags? He bitched about the boy from home that he ran into on the weekend. Most of all he bitched about how stupid it made him feel.

He should have been in better control of his emotions. He shouldn't need to spend hundreds of dollars to ignore the things that bothered him. He shouldn't need to tear other people down when he doubted himself. He wished he wouldn't stay up all night watching Grey's. But he knew he would.

I'm drunk. I don't know what happened to my NaBloPoMo post. But .... Ithink it's here? Sweet.

Kitty face came to visit. ok bye.

Previously:
Part One
Part Two

His head throbbed. He tried to roll over to orient himself with his surroundings, but movement only seemed to increase the pain. He was afraid any more moving and he might throw up. The sun crept in through the cheap nylon curtain and stung his eyes.

Monday meant a return to class and an easy way to avoiding thinking about things he didn't want to think about. He used the remainder of the weekend to sort out his thoughts, and then throw them away. Monday meant a new week; a fresh start.

As he walked back from his tutorial he realized the thoughts had come back and needed sorting again. At least he was in control. He was always control when he was awake and alert. It was when he was tired and alone it became a problem. But right now, he was in control.

The best way to do this seemed to be to beat the emotion into submission with logical attacks, and then lock it in a box. He was good at that. Who wanted to be a big ball of emotions? People like that were looked down on. The problem would come back when he tried to go to sleep. Luckily there were ways of avoiding sleep.

Previously:
Part One

His head throbbed. He tried to roll over to orient himself with his surroundings, but movement only seemed to increase the pain. He was afraid any more moving and he might throw up. The sun crept in through the cheap nylon curtain and stung his eyes.

12:38. He'd slept in through his morning, which was certainly one way to spend it. At least he'd managed to fall asleep. As he rolled out of bed last night hit him like a train. Everything flooded back to mind and suddenly he felt sick again. Worse, now that he was awake, sleep wasn't an option for ignoring the emotions battling in his brain. He could attempt to do homework but there were two flaws with that plan. The first was that homework was never a good option - ever. The second was that he was still hungover, meaning if homework had been a good option he wouldn't be able to function properly anyway.

Something else would have to suffice. Too bad his floormates were nowhere to be found. He could go down and eat by himself, but that wasn't something he was up for doing. Of course! Shopping is a great way to get your mind off of anything bothering you. He also had friends who lived on the Mink Mile.

When isn't it ok to drown sorrow in lattes and designer clothing?

I took an accent quiz.

"I'm going to be sick." He rolled onto his back trying to make the pounding stop. As much as he tried to think about something else, it didn't work. Instead, drunk and overemotional, he replayed the night over and over in his head followed by how he would react to a future encounter. Depending on the mood, the future encounter changed. Moods swings were constant; a cycle with extremes at self loathing and self pitying.

"I need Wicked." Musicals always made everything better. Well, not better, but they numbed the right emotions long enough for it to not matter anymore. There was one night where he had stayed up singing along to the movie version of Rent over and over again because it made more sense than dealing with an awkwardness that was bound to arise. That'll teach him to hook up with a straight guy on his floor.

"No more drinking," he promised himself. It always lead to something bad.

His head spun as he tried to get up. He didn't even know how this happened. He had moved on. There wasn't supposed to be any desire for The Boy. He had decided that The Boy wasn't interested the week beforehand. So what went wrong? Everything. It started as innocent drinking with friends. Then before he knew it he was ready to smack just about everyone.

This was the boy that he had pegged as an easy one; a backup in case he couldn't hook up with anyone else. Oh, there's a whole bunch of things he didn't want to admit about himself all at once.

"Fuck. I need a drink."