I just had the hiccups for an hour, I hate it when phantoms take hold of my diaphragm like that. Always feeling me up as they please and you know they never cuddle afterwards.

The last however-long-it's-been-since-I-last updated have been hard. Some really good moments in a field of dark holes. I don't think the latter part is ... serious, overall. Most of my important life areas have had their switches flipped to "stressy", and that leads to a strength in numbers which is overwhelming.

Is it okay to fall apart sometimes? I'm not sure. I suppose there is a point where, if that's what you need to do, then it's fair enough. But I suspect this point is somewhere before you start crying hysterically during an episode of "The Bold and The Beautiful".

I know, that is not defensible. It was a sad episode though! And I am a girl, of the stereotypically ridiculous variety. The other night I saw a roach in the bathroom and I shrieked and ran away.

Anyway, I've filled my spazz quota for the week (the year, probably). Spazz = crying with varying degrees of hystericality and general freaking out. So now I am very calm blue ocean, though a little uncentred. But when am I ever centred?

I cleaned my room earlier, a scary amount of random crap had moved in with me, and it was a relief to identify each piece and throw it out.

Also I caught up with boy earlier.

(a) I don't know how much to tell you. In ways I don't think I should even mention him, since he is a friend and I don't usually talk about my friends as much as I know I will talk about him if I don't curb the impulse.

Public Awareness Announcement: Shelley, Sarah, Kiki, and Ramona are hot. That is all.

But see, on the other hand, there's still other stuff there with him. Big good stuff, which will not be delved into, but it's there for me. And you know, when I liked smart guy, who I had let's face it no real contact or connection with whatsoever, there were diary entries that went "you know smart guy? he wore a hat today. teehee!"

Of course, on the other other hand, smart guy never read this.

Too complicated, I think I would have to mutate and grow other other other hands before I could even begin to figure things out. I don't know which is decision is better for him or for me. Maybe if I just ramble in moderation? Starting from the next entry, obviously, as rambling in moderation does not have so many paragraphs.

b) He needs a new name. Because I know I am never quite going to think about him as an 'ex' even if that's what he technically is, and I can't go using 'my' type possessive pronouns because I obviously have no right to them, and 'boy' by itself is so nondescript.

I could use his actual name, but that's not the tradition of this diary. Boys who are for whatever reason important to me, get pseudonyms.

I am currently considering Guitarman, because it has a very neat visualisation in my head that involves a guitar and a superhero pose. Hehe. I'm open to suggestions, if anyone has one cast it yonder. Maybe it should be something ending with guy... since there was smart guy and maths guy ... but guitar guy has too many g's.

Damn, I like language. I just wrote a paper on gender differences in latrinalia -- restroom graffiti. The paper annoyed me no end but the topic itself was quite fascinating. There has been some (somewhat tentative because of methodology issues) results which suggest female latrinalia are more supportive and advisory, whereas male latrinalia are more derogatory.

So a final note before I start studying frantically for my exams which are in a few days -- below is one of the pieces of male latrinalia I read about, it's quite evil but I love it 'cos it's such a good burn. Peace out y'all.

In a male restroom somewhere...:

Never trust anything that bleeds for five days and doesn't die

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