June 23rd, 2001

running, bomb tech

Adoration

"I can't remember the last time I adored a man."

Thus spoke an online friend of mine when I was speaking of my best friend and what I think about him.

I do. I adore him. He's physically attractive, to start with. He may not be physically attractive where others are concerned, but there's just something about him that pushes all my buttons, both physically and mentally. Mentally ... well, he's good with computers, he likes RPG's and science fiction and bad puns... of course I adore him.

He's not the sort of person who opens up easily, and of course I won't speak of the things he's mentioned to me, because that would just not be cool, but ... he speaks to me. He smiles for me. He smiles for Sis too... but he smiles. That tells something right there. He doesn't tend to smile. I have an impression of him as a very sweet guy, very open, very caring, great sense of humor... all the things I know him to be ... I tried looking at him once through someone else's eyes, and didn't quite know what to make of what I saw.

He's a lot ... colder, to the rest of the world. He rarely speaks. His humor's a lot darker and more sarcastic. He doesn't open up. He ... he's not himself, quite, but he is, and the way he is scares me.

I still adore him.

I'm lucky to be one of the few he speaks to.
running, bomb tech

shopping

Went out on an expedition with Dude and his girlfriend. Got lots and lots of stuff for the edible portion of the household supplies.

Today I housecleaned, too -- there were bits of floor that were getting not so nice, so I took the 409 to it all, and did some major scrubbing. I did it to the Mortal Kombat soundtrack, the original one. That was the one that we listened to at the Duct Tape Sword Guy meetings, and I've got a conditioned response of hyperactivity to it. It wears me out, but that's OK, as long as I get what I need to do done.

So sue me, but I like shopping. I like making a house tick over right, as long as I've got active help in doing it.

Dude and his GF are out at a movie tonight.

Every time I mention that Best Friend brought up the idea that I should have no excuse for not seeing movies, that I should find the time, and the money, and there are local movie theatres very close, and if I should catch him on his day off we might be able to see the movie together --- my sister just cracks up and loses it.

I'm going to find out what she means someday, dammit.

Why the hell have I become so domestic? I still don't tend to do laundry or dishes all that often, but when I clean, man, do I ever clean.

I think Saturday has become the default day for cleaning house. Today, since Best Friend was going to visit, I decided that the floor must be cleaned. I scrubbed the kitchen floor, and discovered that tomato sauce stains like hell. I also got the stains out of the rug where Nephew likes to spill stuff, and I tried to organize the cat.

Kittens do not take well to organization.
running, bomb tech

cheeze balls

you know those puffy cheese ball chip-things that come in large containers? Saw one of those at Sam's Club and thought, "Oh, paintballs!"

Well, that's what comes of living with a diehard paintball gamer.
running, bomb tech

cleaning

I need to remind Alan to bring by the shampoo so that I may scrub the kitten.

And Kitty needs his claws trimmed again.

It was funny --- best friend does not do well with hyper cats. Skittish guy. Skittish cat. Eventually got the cat settled down on his lap and ended up petting both guy and cat. Supposedly petting cat -- actually petting guy's hand.

Hee hee.
running, bomb tech

growing up

Sis has been complaining that I act too young.

That's no surprise. She's a good four or five years older, with a kid. I'm still barely out of my parents' house. It's going to be interesting around here.

Basically, she thinks she's through with being young and playing. I notice, though, that every time she's given a chance, she plays harder than I do. She works harder at what she does, though.

But she's been complaining about how young I am, and how much further I have to grow...

...and what happens?

We get another roommate, and suddenly the house is filled with teenage happiness and laughter, as roommate is 18 and so is his girlfriend, and of course Alan is not what you'd call the epitome of seriousness... and Alan is Sis's general age.

Basically, Sis has been getting a bit old and stodgy lately, and she's getting shaken out of it. She was getting a little too high and mighty for her own good with the one thing, and then of course the universe had to shake her down out of it --- and she was getting a touch too reclusive, and of course the universe is doing the same right now.

Gods only know what's in store for me.
running, bomb tech

angst and the real world

Just got added by someone who thinks she's nothing like me, or I'm nothing like her.

Reading her profile, I'm wondering.

There was this angst thing I used to have. It was a big problem. I almost died of it, somewhere in the lands between time, in the place where nothing ever goes right, all the bright Powers of the universe are dead, or, worse, have forsaken you...

...There was this angst thing I used to have. I had too much love in my soul for anyone else to bear it. To be loved by me was to be loved by a hydrogen bomb -- safest to run away.

I almost killed the love in my heart, somewhere in the time between times, in the days where the day was dark and ash rained down from the sky, and the nights burned with the light of pain.

I don't like to think about those days now.

I loved too much. I picked the wrong targets for my affections. I didn't know what else to do. I was in love. I never learned how to redirect my emotions. I never learned how to say, "I care, but only a little." There were two states for me: on and off. I probably have some form of bipolar disorder. I don't know. I never cared enough to go to a doctor, and my parents couldn't really afford it anyway, so I dealt with it. The school counselor probably told them, "She misses her friends from camp."

It was more than that. I'd never in my life had any close friends as smart as I was, let alone a whole crowd of them. I was in love, I was missing out on intelligent conversation, I was ...

...stranded.

That's never a fun place to be.

I loved. I was not loved in return, or, when I was, in the wrong ways by the wrong people. There was just too much love that I had, and I had to find some way to express it or explode. I was forbidden from expressing some of that love, so I had to find ways to get rid of it.

I couldn't hate him for not loving me, so I had to hate myself. I did that quite well.

All my other friends hated him for helping me turn into the colorless person I'd become. He wasn't responsible, but he'd allowed it to happen, and it was happening because of him, so they hated him. I saw what he was letting me do to myself, and I hated him for it. Part of me did, at least.

I had power over him, though, and I was able to use it, and sometimes I did. He feared me. He did not love me. He did care, he did begin to love -- he was emotionally crippled, as emotionally crippled as I. We made a cute little couple, he and I did, and everyone saw that we were perfect for each other, if only he could realize that I loved him. He realized, all right, but the intensity that I was capable of scared him no end, so he refused to have anything to do with my love, refused to let me even speak that word to him, refused to hold my hand, refused to kiss me.

He was my first lover. We still have never kissed.



My current beloved, the person I love most, romantically speaking, in all the worlds...

...he knows I love him. He treasures my friendship. I treasure his. I adore him. He allows me closer than he allows many people. We both know that I would not endanger our friendship; that is the dearest thing in the world to me.

Most importantly, he allows me to love him. He doesn't want to make me stop. He doesn't want to push me into or out of doing anything. He occasionally has to ask me to tone down the stuff that makes him just a touch uncomfortable, but ...

...he doesn't say "go to hell" or anything like that.

It's just ....

....he's not what I'm used to. I love him especially for that.
running, bomb tech

sharp and pointy

Found something of interest to me. Always loved swords. This one isn't sharpened, nor will it be, but it fits in my hand like an extension of my arm.

I used to fence. I shall again.
running, bomb tech

Callisto

...is the blade's name. Very short rapier. No edge on her at all, but a bit of a point. Not much of one, though. She's staying with me.
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