I have a theory. Well, its not really a theory. Just an inconclusive observation.
I think I have more dreams - or am more likely to remember dreams - when I read before going to bed.
This being said, I read before going to bed when I have time to read before going to bed, which generally means that tons of sleep is had on this sort of night. So it could be that I remember more dreams because I have more dreams when I get more sleep.
Regardless, it seems like my dreams are most complex when I've read prior to falling asleep.
Last night I had a recurring dream. I have this dream maybe once or twice a year, and have been having it since I was a child. It's gotten more developed and elaborate as I've grown up. It involves dinosaurs, which I love. I do, after all, sleep with a stuffed dinosaur that I've had since 5th grade. In the dream, however, dinosaurs are coming! It's on the news and we are all warned to stay inside and fight them off if we can, but we really don't have a chance.
When I was little, the dinosaurs would come to my parents' house, and we'd all be huddled in the basement as a family, helpless, watching their feet pass by the skinny basement windows as our house shook. Eventually a dinosaur (think velociraptor) would get in and make its way down the stairs and into the basement, cornering us. Usually it would attack one or all of my family members, except me, and I'd wake up shortly thereafter.
As I grew up, the dreams would take on a more aggressive approach. We'd try to come up with ways to get out of the house to avoid the dinosaurs or we'd try to devise weaponry out of household objects to take them down. Sometimes we'd just watch them from inside and they'd never get in, sometimes they'd get in and be upstairs and we'd just be freaking out downstairs, sometimes they'd actually get down into the basement and we'd be screwed, sometimes we'd climb onto the roof and watch them from above.
In all scenarios, I am in awe. I love dinosaurs. I am in awe, but the most scared I've ever been. I am scared for my family and afraid that my home will be torn apart by dinosaurs.
In all scenarios, its usually my siblings and I battling, devising plots, holding onto each other tightly. I think in the more recent instances of the dream, my parents are away on vacation or at work or busy with other things.
In last night's episode, my siblings and I were trying to figure out ways to battle the dinosaurs, as usual. It was raining this time - which was new - so our observation was obstructed. We had no idea if/when they would be arriving. We couldn't predict anything. We were, moreso than usual, helpless. We were arguing and frightened and panicked and desperate. My mother was around. She refused to do anything. She was in her room, cowering, saying there was no hope. She couldn't do it. Don't even bother. It is the end. My father was there as well, and he kept saying that he knew what to do - he knew exactly what to do - but he wouldn't help. He said "You guys can do this on your own. You don't need my help." We kept saying we needed help - whatever help could be given - but he was like "No, I'll just take care of myself."
My siblings and I held onto each other for dear life, waiting, the three of us, no parents, for our house to be torn apart by dinosaurs. Which, in this dream, it was. We were fine, but the house was destroyed. The three of us were left out in the rain with no parents.
It's interesting to see this evolve - so obviously - over time.
I wonder why I was so afraid of my home being torn apart as a child. There was no reason for me to be having this dream back then. We all make sense in the dream now.
I don't know if this is a larger metaphor - I think it is obvious and represents something you love having the potential to be really scary and destructive.
Anyway, recurring dreams. Weird. It's wasteful to have dreams you've had before. But still interesting to see them change ever so slightly.
My other recurring dream is the prom-dress shopping dream. I haven't had that in a while. It's awful. Even worse than the dinosaurs.
OK. I have to work. Happy Thursday.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Maroon 5 Is Responsible For All That Is Bad In The World
Bah.
I am dead tired.
Why? Because of the most dreadful band ever, Maroon 5!
I will get to this later.
First things first - I had my first impulse-buy class night and it was awesome. We watched Swimming Upstream, with Geoffrey Rush. I wouldn't recommend the movie. I had many issues with it, mainly that the characters were all one-dimensional, which were voiced by other members of the class. This class is awesome because
(1) Nobody has seen the movie before, so you avoid that film student nonsense where people have seen the movie a million times before and already know everything - this format selects for an immediate and therefore visceral response to a film, and makes for interesting discussion
(2) You don't know who the guest is going to be while you are watching the movie -
after the movie, there's a 15 minute discussion, after which they say "And I am pleased to introduce blah blah blah..."
(3) Last night, Blah Blah Blah was the writer of the film, Tony Fingelton. The film is actually his life story - he was a famous swimmer in Australia, but the movie focuses more on his family.
(4) It was super cool, because everyone was talking about how the characters were so one-dimensional and then the character himself appears!
(5) It's great, because you can have any question about a movie answered. For
example, the professor had asked "By a show of hands, do you guys think that his father loved him?" We then got to actually ask the dude if he thought his father loved him. People asked all sorts of cool questions such as "Did you get to decide who would play you?"
(6) It was interesting to hear about the trippiness of having your autobiography
made while you are still alive. And I imagine it must be interesting for the filmmaker to hear a film class talk about his/her movie. I am loving this class, and can't wait to see who is there next week!
What I don't love, however, is Maroon 5. No sir. I've hated them since day 1. The dude's voice = nails on the chalkboard. The video where he is making out with that chick is unsettling. Hate hate hate. Sorry if you like them. It's just that every now and then a song will come out that makes you want to have a seizure, and that song, whatever it's called I don't even know - the one that goes "this love has taken its toll on me... blah blah goodbye... so many times befo-o-ore...." is my seizure-inducer.
After class last night I went to see The Arcade Fire at Webster Hall. The Arcade Fire is the band du jour amongst hipsters.
I hadn't been to Webster Hall since my other life. I went there with The Sandwich and Certain Someone years and years ago to go dancing. For only $30 you get to dance in the biggest meatmarket on the planet! Yipee! Luckily Certain Someone paid for all of us.
(Digression: The Webster Hall Scene From Another Lifetime is actually, with hindsight, a very pivotal night of my life. If I hadn't gone to NYC with Sandwich way back when, I'd never have witnessed the weird fight that broke out between Sandwich and Certain Someone at Webster Hall. The fight made me feel very bad about our visit and prompted me to ask Sandwich for Certain Someone's email in order to apologize. If I hadn't had Certain Someone's email address, I'd never have contacted him and offered to buy him a drink the next time I was in NY in order to apologize for Sandwich's inappropriate behavior. Had I not seen Certain Someone the following year, I'd probably not have contacted him when R and I went to NYC this summer. Had I not seen him this summer, I'd never have spent so much time in NYC and would never have fallen in love with it. I wouldn't have looked for a job here and I wouldn't live here now, and I'd never have met D. So, moral of the story, Webster Hall isn't completely evil, nor are ex-es.)
The venu is cool. I was dead tired after class and dead tired from the night before (open mic, stayed up all night, blah blah) and famished because I only had a bagel for dinner. We got there at about 10:45 and figured Arcade Fire would be going on shortly, but no! Their crazy violin-playing friend from Canada played three songs.
They didn't go on until about 11:45. Why? Because freaking Maroon 5 was supposed to play Conan but cancelled, so The Arcade Fire got to play instead, thus messing up their entire show and creating an irritable audience that The Arcade Fire kept berating for being so quiet.
Sorry, Arcade Fire, but it's hard to be enthusiastic at 1 am on a Tuesday, especially when some people have been there since 8:00!
Oh adult-rock-show, where are thou? Start at 6:00 pm, everyone has a seat, there is no painful opening band, and everyone is home and in bed by 10:00.
I am too old for this.
Irritability aside, I didn't like the show. I've actually been lukewarm about them. I really liked the CD upon first listen, but the more and more I listened to it, the less and less I liked it. I almost sold my ticket, but at the last minute thought "Well, maybe a live show will make me less lukewarm about them." No such luck.
My issues:
(1) The reason the Arcade Fire is at all good is the production. The production is elegant and bizarre and unique and, well, a bit subtle. Live its all crescendo and each element is screaming at you, which makes it hard to listen to.
(2) The music was too big for the venu. Very hard on the ears.
(3) All the songs are far too long. Like 8 minutes. And the set order was flawed. It didn't have a good flow.
(4) The performance-art-ness of it was unexpected, and unnecessary.
(5) I was tired. I really don't know how much of my opinion is influenced by fatigue. I was unimpressed, but then again, class was so awesome that anything that followed was almost guaranteed to be anticlimatic.
6) There were tons of rude people at the show. Freaking New York. I didn't check my coat because I am cheap now. We were on the upper level and there are couches there, and a bunch of girls were kind of lying on one. They had a pile of coats on the back of the couch. I said "Do you guys mind if I throw my coat here?" and they looked at me like I had 14 heads. They were mortified that I could be asking such a thing! They looked at me as though I'd just asked if I could sit on them. They looked at me bitchily and didn't say anything for like 30 seconds while they looked at each other and rolled their eyes, taken aback by my audacity, and finally they were like "Yeah, well, I guess." I was like "You know what? Don't worry about it. I'll just put my coat on the floor behind the couch" and they were annoyed by that as well! I put my coat down and D grabbed it and stomped away and was like "Those girls suck," which is funny, because my feeling was that I should put my coat there because they suck whereas his feeling was that I should not so as not to have to deal with them. Other people were angry at D for being tall. Maybe everyone was just overtired.
So there it is. A good Tuesday. Tonight I am going to bed at 9:00 and I can't wait. It's all about the little things, folks. Like reading Sandman before going to bed. Sweet.
Alright. I'm putting my blot in primary and I am out of here!
I am dead tired.
Why? Because of the most dreadful band ever, Maroon 5!
I will get to this later.
First things first - I had my first impulse-buy class night and it was awesome. We watched Swimming Upstream, with Geoffrey Rush. I wouldn't recommend the movie. I had many issues with it, mainly that the characters were all one-dimensional, which were voiced by other members of the class. This class is awesome because
(1) Nobody has seen the movie before, so you avoid that film student nonsense where people have seen the movie a million times before and already know everything - this format selects for an immediate and therefore visceral response to a film, and makes for interesting discussion
(2) You don't know who the guest is going to be while you are watching the movie -
after the movie, there's a 15 minute discussion, after which they say "And I am pleased to introduce blah blah blah..."
(3) Last night, Blah Blah Blah was the writer of the film, Tony Fingelton. The film is actually his life story - he was a famous swimmer in Australia, but the movie focuses more on his family.
(4) It was super cool, because everyone was talking about how the characters were so one-dimensional and then the character himself appears!
(5) It's great, because you can have any question about a movie answered. For
example, the professor had asked "By a show of hands, do you guys think that his father loved him?" We then got to actually ask the dude if he thought his father loved him. People asked all sorts of cool questions such as "Did you get to decide who would play you?"
(6) It was interesting to hear about the trippiness of having your autobiography
made while you are still alive. And I imagine it must be interesting for the filmmaker to hear a film class talk about his/her movie. I am loving this class, and can't wait to see who is there next week!
What I don't love, however, is Maroon 5. No sir. I've hated them since day 1. The dude's voice = nails on the chalkboard. The video where he is making out with that chick is unsettling. Hate hate hate. Sorry if you like them. It's just that every now and then a song will come out that makes you want to have a seizure, and that song, whatever it's called I don't even know - the one that goes "this love has taken its toll on me... blah blah goodbye... so many times befo-o-ore...." is my seizure-inducer.
After class last night I went to see The Arcade Fire at Webster Hall. The Arcade Fire is the band du jour amongst hipsters.
I hadn't been to Webster Hall since my other life. I went there with The Sandwich and Certain Someone years and years ago to go dancing. For only $30 you get to dance in the biggest meatmarket on the planet! Yipee! Luckily Certain Someone paid for all of us.
(Digression: The Webster Hall Scene From Another Lifetime is actually, with hindsight, a very pivotal night of my life. If I hadn't gone to NYC with Sandwich way back when, I'd never have witnessed the weird fight that broke out between Sandwich and Certain Someone at Webster Hall. The fight made me feel very bad about our visit and prompted me to ask Sandwich for Certain Someone's email in order to apologize. If I hadn't had Certain Someone's email address, I'd never have contacted him and offered to buy him a drink the next time I was in NY in order to apologize for Sandwich's inappropriate behavior. Had I not seen Certain Someone the following year, I'd probably not have contacted him when R and I went to NYC this summer. Had I not seen him this summer, I'd never have spent so much time in NYC and would never have fallen in love with it. I wouldn't have looked for a job here and I wouldn't live here now, and I'd never have met D. So, moral of the story, Webster Hall isn't completely evil, nor are ex-es.)
The venu is cool. I was dead tired after class and dead tired from the night before (open mic, stayed up all night, blah blah) and famished because I only had a bagel for dinner. We got there at about 10:45 and figured Arcade Fire would be going on shortly, but no! Their crazy violin-playing friend from Canada played three songs.
They didn't go on until about 11:45. Why? Because freaking Maroon 5 was supposed to play Conan but cancelled, so The Arcade Fire got to play instead, thus messing up their entire show and creating an irritable audience that The Arcade Fire kept berating for being so quiet.
Sorry, Arcade Fire, but it's hard to be enthusiastic at 1 am on a Tuesday, especially when some people have been there since 8:00!
Oh adult-rock-show, where are thou? Start at 6:00 pm, everyone has a seat, there is no painful opening band, and everyone is home and in bed by 10:00.
I am too old for this.
Irritability aside, I didn't like the show. I've actually been lukewarm about them. I really liked the CD upon first listen, but the more and more I listened to it, the less and less I liked it. I almost sold my ticket, but at the last minute thought "Well, maybe a live show will make me less lukewarm about them." No such luck.
My issues:
(1) The reason the Arcade Fire is at all good is the production. The production is elegant and bizarre and unique and, well, a bit subtle. Live its all crescendo and each element is screaming at you, which makes it hard to listen to.
(2) The music was too big for the venu. Very hard on the ears.
(3) All the songs are far too long. Like 8 minutes. And the set order was flawed. It didn't have a good flow.
(4) The performance-art-ness of it was unexpected, and unnecessary.
(5) I was tired. I really don't know how much of my opinion is influenced by fatigue. I was unimpressed, but then again, class was so awesome that anything that followed was almost guaranteed to be anticlimatic.
6) There were tons of rude people at the show. Freaking New York. I didn't check my coat because I am cheap now. We were on the upper level and there are couches there, and a bunch of girls were kind of lying on one. They had a pile of coats on the back of the couch. I said "Do you guys mind if I throw my coat here?" and they looked at me like I had 14 heads. They were mortified that I could be asking such a thing! They looked at me as though I'd just asked if I could sit on them. They looked at me bitchily and didn't say anything for like 30 seconds while they looked at each other and rolled their eyes, taken aback by my audacity, and finally they were like "Yeah, well, I guess." I was like "You know what? Don't worry about it. I'll just put my coat on the floor behind the couch" and they were annoyed by that as well! I put my coat down and D grabbed it and stomped away and was like "Those girls suck," which is funny, because my feeling was that I should put my coat there because they suck whereas his feeling was that I should not so as not to have to deal with them. Other people were angry at D for being tall. Maybe everyone was just overtired.
So there it is. A good Tuesday. Tonight I am going to bed at 9:00 and I can't wait. It's all about the little things, folks. Like reading Sandman before going to bed. Sweet.
Alright. I'm putting my blot in primary and I am out of here!
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Retirement
Dear Open Mic,
It is with the deepest regret that I write to inform you that I will no longer be a performer of music. The past week has been a fabulous experience, and I am saddened that my illustrious career will be coming to an end. My time with you has been of great value to me, both on professional and personal levels. You have been nothing but kind, encouraging, and supportive.
It took me a while - an entire week - to realize that this is not the right fit, and that I must seek fulfillment elsewhere. I do not have the appropriate skill set to serve your needs. This is detrimental to your organization as well as to my self esteem.
I wish you continued success in the future. I hope that the other performers in the organization will continue to pass out their very professional CDs and flyers, that they will shamelessly promote their professional gigs while the little guy suffers anxiety attacks, and that they will buff up their mailing lists. They are all extremely, obscenely, ridiculously and amazingly talented and I know you will all go far in life.
Thank you, open mic, for giving me this opportunity to realize that I should remain a studio musician. (Or, perhaps, just play open mics in places that are not New York City.)
Sincerely,
Leah
It is with the deepest regret that I write to inform you that I will no longer be a performer of music. The past week has been a fabulous experience, and I am saddened that my illustrious career will be coming to an end. My time with you has been of great value to me, both on professional and personal levels. You have been nothing but kind, encouraging, and supportive.
It took me a while - an entire week - to realize that this is not the right fit, and that I must seek fulfillment elsewhere. I do not have the appropriate skill set to serve your needs. This is detrimental to your organization as well as to my self esteem.
I wish you continued success in the future. I hope that the other performers in the organization will continue to pass out their very professional CDs and flyers, that they will shamelessly promote their professional gigs while the little guy suffers anxiety attacks, and that they will buff up their mailing lists. They are all extremely, obscenely, ridiculously and amazingly talented and I know you will all go far in life.
Thank you, open mic, for giving me this opportunity to realize that I should remain a studio musician. (Or, perhaps, just play open mics in places that are not New York City.)
Sincerely,
Leah
Monday, January 31, 2005
Houses and Friendsickness
The weekend is over. I don't know where it went.
Not much happened. Practicing for the open mic, shopping in Soho for sweaters or shoes and buying a tube top instead (tax free in NYC this week! yeah!), not making any of the phone calls that needed to be made, falling harder for the boy when I thought it was impossible.
An awesome girl from work, P, had a housewarming party yesterday. We met prior to the function in Queens for fabulous Indian buffet at a place called Jackson Diner. The food was delicious but I didn't eat much, as I was overwhelmed by the coworker-on-the-weekend factor, and preoccupied with concentrating on not smiling too brightly or obviously at D.
There was a girl there of whom I am not terribly fond. I was holding one overheard conversation against her, a conversation in response to which I'd formed a very concrete and unfavorable opinion about her. I decided to give her a chance at this function, because if awesome P likes her, why shouldn't I? I was sitting across from her and she did her best to interrupt me as often as possible and disagree with everything I said, just on principle.
The conversation turned to internet dating, and how she's doing it, and how she's not successful. Heh. I wanted to say "Nobody in their right mind would date you, internet or not!" but didn't. She kept saying things like "I won't date musicians, artists, or vegetarians. God. You know what that says about a person."
I said "Well, have you tried Craigslist? I feel like that's a better indication of someone's personality - like it removes the math from the personals and is more like a first impression, you know, like it might be a better predictor of chemistry."
She was not having that. Everyone on Craigslist lies! Is a psycho! How could you ever know about someone if they're not answering specific questions?
I said "Well, how can you know if people are telling the truth on Match.com?"
"Well, I've never had a problem. I think if people want it to work they have to be honest."
Whatever.
I made the mistake of telling her about my "Do-Not-Date-This-Man.com" website, which has been revised to be an all-purpose review-of-dates website. So you could put the good, the bad, the ugly. And she's like "That would never work. People would never be honest!"
Dear god. This is clearly a girl who dates for money and status and is just all around ridiculous. Love is out of the question if the man is passionate about what he does but doesn't meet a certain salary requirement. I'd heard about this sort of girl in New York but hadn't encountered it until yesterday. I wanted to slap her. The thing is that I'd figured this all out about her based on that one conversation I'd eavesdropped on months prior. Sometimes stereotypes are around for a reason.
Early in our relationship, D said that he thought that someone at work had a crush on him. I don't know why he told me that. It actually bothered me at the time, and he wouldn't tell me who it was because he could tell that it bugged me. He said he had no interest, blah blah, etc. Anyway, long story longer, I managed to figure out based on certain clues yesterday that it is this girl! So now I just think its really funny. Heh.
Anyway, after brunch we all went to this girl's house, but she lives in East Guam, Queens, so it required... drum roll.... driving in cars!!! Yipee!!!!! I was giddy. I was even more giddy when I learned that another girl from work, M, and her boyfriend G, had rented a minivan because they were going to IKEA after the party!!!
I was blissed out the whole time. I was blissed out to the point that I didn't even care that G was listening to Elton John's greatest hits! I was thrilled to be in a car! I was thrilled to put on a seatbelt! I was thrilled to be able to sing along to songs with others!
I was even more blissed out when we got to P's, because she has a house! An actual house!!!! I literally rolled around on her carpets. They were so plush and soft and luscious and new and fabulous. I watched Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle for the second time in a month while seated in front of their fireplace. Sigh. I too could have this if I wanted to live an hour and a half outside of the city but, alas, it is not worth it. Oh well. It was a day of houses and transit.
So here's the thing. It's not that I'm homesick - I do miss things like rugs and friends with cars and dinner tables and comfort. I've determined that I am, in fact, friendsick. I miss specific friends, but I more miss having close friends at all. When I hang out with these people, it is so clear and painful to me that I have no close friends around here. Nobody in this entire city knows me well. It's a strange feeling. I'd like, for example, to discuss my relationship with D with (a) someone who knows D and (b) someone who knows about my past and (c) someone who knows how crazy I get about relationships. I'd like to discuss my friendsickness with someone who knew me before. Everyone here knows me from September 2004 through the present. There's nothing before that. It's quite bizarre. I realize close friendships come with time, but it would be nice to have at least one familiar person.
Sigh.
Someday I'll have my very own carpets and tons of friends to invite over for dinner.
Sigh.
Monday.
Yeah.
Not much happened. Practicing for the open mic, shopping in Soho for sweaters or shoes and buying a tube top instead (tax free in NYC this week! yeah!), not making any of the phone calls that needed to be made, falling harder for the boy when I thought it was impossible.
An awesome girl from work, P, had a housewarming party yesterday. We met prior to the function in Queens for fabulous Indian buffet at a place called Jackson Diner. The food was delicious but I didn't eat much, as I was overwhelmed by the coworker-on-the-weekend factor, and preoccupied with concentrating on not smiling too brightly or obviously at D.
There was a girl there of whom I am not terribly fond. I was holding one overheard conversation against her, a conversation in response to which I'd formed a very concrete and unfavorable opinion about her. I decided to give her a chance at this function, because if awesome P likes her, why shouldn't I? I was sitting across from her and she did her best to interrupt me as often as possible and disagree with everything I said, just on principle.
The conversation turned to internet dating, and how she's doing it, and how she's not successful. Heh. I wanted to say "Nobody in their right mind would date you, internet or not!" but didn't. She kept saying things like "I won't date musicians, artists, or vegetarians. God. You know what that says about a person."
I said "Well, have you tried Craigslist? I feel like that's a better indication of someone's personality - like it removes the math from the personals and is more like a first impression, you know, like it might be a better predictor of chemistry."
She was not having that. Everyone on Craigslist lies! Is a psycho! How could you ever know about someone if they're not answering specific questions?
I said "Well, how can you know if people are telling the truth on Match.com?"
"Well, I've never had a problem. I think if people want it to work they have to be honest."
Whatever.
I made the mistake of telling her about my "Do-Not-Date-This-Man.com" website, which has been revised to be an all-purpose review-of-dates website. So you could put the good, the bad, the ugly. And she's like "That would never work. People would never be honest!"
Dear god. This is clearly a girl who dates for money and status and is just all around ridiculous. Love is out of the question if the man is passionate about what he does but doesn't meet a certain salary requirement. I'd heard about this sort of girl in New York but hadn't encountered it until yesterday. I wanted to slap her. The thing is that I'd figured this all out about her based on that one conversation I'd eavesdropped on months prior. Sometimes stereotypes are around for a reason.
Early in our relationship, D said that he thought that someone at work had a crush on him. I don't know why he told me that. It actually bothered me at the time, and he wouldn't tell me who it was because he could tell that it bugged me. He said he had no interest, blah blah, etc. Anyway, long story longer, I managed to figure out based on certain clues yesterday that it is this girl! So now I just think its really funny. Heh.
Anyway, after brunch we all went to this girl's house, but she lives in East Guam, Queens, so it required... drum roll.... driving in cars!!! Yipee!!!!! I was giddy. I was even more giddy when I learned that another girl from work, M, and her boyfriend G, had rented a minivan because they were going to IKEA after the party!!!
I was blissed out the whole time. I was blissed out to the point that I didn't even care that G was listening to Elton John's greatest hits! I was thrilled to be in a car! I was thrilled to put on a seatbelt! I was thrilled to be able to sing along to songs with others!
I was even more blissed out when we got to P's, because she has a house! An actual house!!!! I literally rolled around on her carpets. They were so plush and soft and luscious and new and fabulous. I watched Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle for the second time in a month while seated in front of their fireplace. Sigh. I too could have this if I wanted to live an hour and a half outside of the city but, alas, it is not worth it. Oh well. It was a day of houses and transit.
So here's the thing. It's not that I'm homesick - I do miss things like rugs and friends with cars and dinner tables and comfort. I've determined that I am, in fact, friendsick. I miss specific friends, but I more miss having close friends at all. When I hang out with these people, it is so clear and painful to me that I have no close friends around here. Nobody in this entire city knows me well. It's a strange feeling. I'd like, for example, to discuss my relationship with D with (a) someone who knows D and (b) someone who knows about my past and (c) someone who knows how crazy I get about relationships. I'd like to discuss my friendsickness with someone who knew me before. Everyone here knows me from September 2004 through the present. There's nothing before that. It's quite bizarre. I realize close friendships come with time, but it would be nice to have at least one familiar person.
Sigh.
Someday I'll have my very own carpets and tons of friends to invite over for dinner.
Sigh.
Monday.
Yeah.
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