2002-11-30 - 8:33 p.m.
Ah, about five seconds ago I had to seriously fight to remember how to spell Sydney (alarming because I've only been living here, oh, my entire life) and this incident is basically examplary of my day...week...life, whatever.
Although, on a side note, what's with that one vowel? It's so pointyless, we might as well just chop off the ey ending and replace it with an i. Sydni. Plus, it's way cuter that way. All in favour? ...
Never works when even the suggester of the motion forgets to vote, does it? Hmmm...
Today was again *gaspgaspshockhorror* daylike. Work, lack of former melty hair boy, but I got by quite easily.
Although admittedly there may have been some humming of "I will survive," to move me along.
I dream of the day when I'll be humming some song and the person working behind me will start to sing along and then before you know it, we are a supermarket full of song, and just possibly synchronised dance-y change-giving bag-checking movements.
It could happen. It even seems realistic compared to the one where we are robbed and I end up taking a bullet in the arm for former-melty-hair-boy and I get to be all noble and cool about it and maybe even bleed on him a little.
Hm. Have I scared you away yet? Tell you what, I'm going to back away slowly from the above weirdness and I'll try not to make any sudden movement during the weirdness that follows this.
... damn, now I've forgotten the saner place I meant to go.
Still freaked out waiting for uni results, but have been washing away guilt through the fun of excess purchases. Lovelife still non-existant. Well, there are still boys yelling from cars, but that really doesn't count. Work is boyful and this confuses me because things are sometimes said and I don't know how to read them, but I think I am just looking at things too much. Like if they were nonboys saying stuff I wouldn't be at all fussed, because I don't read suggestively into the speech of girls because I don't expect them to be hitting on me.
So really, I need to stop expecting to be hit on and just get over myself while also not trampling my lifeless body into the ground in order to be over stuff.
Which reminds me, next year is going to be the year of the non-try-hard, since have realised that my wardrobe is trying way too hard and although I have some cool clothes I can never pull them off.
METAPHORICALLY, I mean. Elsewise we would be calling next year the year of the slut. But no, instead the focus is on comfortable (but still nice clothes) that I wear because I think they're pretty and not because I think they will make me noticed by the right one. Screw you right one! Well, not literally (see above) but I mean, the lack of anything happening or me actually doing anything implies that, maybe you are not right at all and I am far better off looking out for me (as opposed to looking out for you).
Watchout, below falls a lame dissection of my lame obsessions. Please pretend this is the end and I have said something so disarmingly amusing that as you close this window you are saying to yourself "how charming, I will be sure to click here again." Ok lady I love you buh-bye!
My obsessions have been having a hole-in-the-stockings type effect on me, this I have also realised. TLS was the first, the rip causer who I kind of blame personally, who created this pretty big hole where there was none before. But it was okay at the time because he kept the hole from getting bigger and gave new life to the stockings, but then he was gone and... the threads started to pull in every which way and before you know it the hole was twice as big and growing which is when former-melty-hair-boy and SmartGuy came into play whereby they were around so I opportunistically shoved them into the hole which was good as it stopped it from expanding and after a while I grew fond (read:obsessed) of them and...
Yes well fate has pulled SmartGuy away again as expected and former-melty-hair-boy is only showing up at random intervals and it's like... suddenly I'm looking at every other guy like person twice (see yesterday's entry, Oporto's guy, or go a week back for some babble over a supervisor at work... or... just keep going) to see how they could fit into the growing hole, to see if they could help me keep my stockings together.
What this growing desperation means is that I might conceivably throw self at the next male to say hi.
What this means is that if you want to watch some weirdness come to work tomorrow and see what happens when one of my co-workers greets me.
Or better yet, don't.
It's not even like an attraction thing (it's weird that I'm almost sad I can't write it off as me just wanting to have someone's babies), it's just that I feel like if I don't have someone to be insane over I will just go completely insane.
Not that that makes any sense.
One of these days I will just throw out the stockings and let my naked legs (*gasp* Naked legs?!) gallavant around town.
But til then, I am going to very slowly get ready for bed by forgetting I ever wrote any of this and by fantasising about a new purse, and I hope you will do the same.
Well, maybe not the fantasising about a new purse. On you that would be weird .... kidding.
Although, on a side note, what's with that one vowel? It's so pointyless, we might as well just chop off the ey ending and replace it with an i. Sydni. Plus, it's way cuter that way. All in favour? ...
Never works when even the suggester of the motion forgets to vote, does it? Hmmm...
Today was again *gaspgaspshockhorror* daylike. Work, lack of former melty hair boy, but I got by quite easily.
Although admittedly there may have been some humming of "I will survive," to move me along.
I dream of the day when I'll be humming some song and the person working behind me will start to sing along and then before you know it, we are a supermarket full of song, and just possibly synchronised dance-y change-giving bag-checking movements.
It could happen. It even seems realistic compared to the one where we are robbed and I end up taking a bullet in the arm for former-melty-hair-boy and I get to be all noble and cool about it and maybe even bleed on him a little.
Hm. Have I scared you away yet? Tell you what, I'm going to back away slowly from the above weirdness and I'll try not to make any sudden movement during the weirdness that follows this.
... damn, now I've forgotten the saner place I meant to go.
Still freaked out waiting for uni results, but have been washing away guilt through the fun of excess purchases. Lovelife still non-existant. Well, there are still boys yelling from cars, but that really doesn't count. Work is boyful and this confuses me because things are sometimes said and I don't know how to read them, but I think I am just looking at things too much. Like if they were nonboys saying stuff I wouldn't be at all fussed, because I don't read suggestively into the speech of girls because I don't expect them to be hitting on me.
So really, I need to stop expecting to be hit on and just get over myself while also not trampling my lifeless body into the ground in order to be over stuff.
Which reminds me, next year is going to be the year of the non-try-hard, since have realised that my wardrobe is trying way too hard and although I have some cool clothes I can never pull them off.
METAPHORICALLY, I mean. Elsewise we would be calling next year the year of the slut. But no, instead the focus is on comfortable (but still nice clothes) that I wear because I think they're pretty and not because I think they will make me noticed by the right one. Screw you right one! Well, not literally (see above) but I mean, the lack of anything happening or me actually doing anything implies that, maybe you are not right at all and I am far better off looking out for me (as opposed to looking out for you).
Watchout, below falls a lame dissection of my lame obsessions. Please pretend this is the end and I have said something so disarmingly amusing that as you close this window you are saying to yourself "how charming, I will be sure to click here again." Ok lady I love you buh-bye!
My obsessions have been having a hole-in-the-stockings type effect on me, this I have also realised. TLS was the first, the rip causer who I kind of blame personally, who created this pretty big hole where there was none before. But it was okay at the time because he kept the hole from getting bigger and gave new life to the stockings, but then he was gone and... the threads started to pull in every which way and before you know it the hole was twice as big and growing which is when former-melty-hair-boy and SmartGuy came into play whereby they were around so I opportunistically shoved them into the hole which was good as it stopped it from expanding and after a while I grew fond (read:obsessed) of them and...
Yes well fate has pulled SmartGuy away again as expected and former-melty-hair-boy is only showing up at random intervals and it's like... suddenly I'm looking at every other guy like person twice (see yesterday's entry, Oporto's guy, or go a week back for some babble over a supervisor at work... or... just keep going) to see how they could fit into the growing hole, to see if they could help me keep my stockings together.
What this growing desperation means is that I might conceivably throw self at the next male to say hi.
What this means is that if you want to watch some weirdness come to work tomorrow and see what happens when one of my co-workers greets me.
Or better yet, don't.
It's not even like an attraction thing (it's weird that I'm almost sad I can't write it off as me just wanting to have someone's babies), it's just that I feel like if I don't have someone to be insane over I will just go completely insane.
Not that that makes any sense.
One of these days I will just throw out the stockings and let my naked legs (*gasp* Naked legs?!) gallavant around town.
But til then, I am going to very slowly get ready for bed by forgetting I ever wrote any of this and by fantasising about a new purse, and I hope you will do the same.
Well, maybe not the fantasising about a new purse. On you that would be weird .... kidding.
