November 17th, 2001

running, bomb tech

I can't focus tonight.

I'm not hungry anymore. I thought I was -- and I was bitterly disappointed when the hamburger I thought I was getting turned out to be chicken and onion rings, neither of which I eat.
running, bomb tech



Got two six-packs and another four single bottles. The guy at the liquor store knows me -- I'm the chick who gets the Voodoo.
  • Current Music
    something Celtic from living room
running, bomb tech

(no subject)

The headlines and witticisms for LJ entries boggle my mind all day.

Did I tell the one about the cheerleader's outfit, where Votania picked the image directly out of my mind, and made a remark about the pom-poms before either of us said another word about what I'd been thinking?

...or the way Adam held me yesterday, and I held him...

or how work has been exceptionally easy and majorly sucking...

...about how the lump in the back of my throat that I thought was something I'd swallowed wrong... is still there at least four days later... it doesn't bother me so much now.

How I finally finished The Curse of Chalion late last night after breaking down again.

How when I fell apart, Votania sent in Neighbor to hug me all better, and he sprawled out on my mattress next to me and gave me a backrub, and I gave one to him, and he gave me another, and we kept on like this until nearly midnight... my laundry is finally done, but lying draped over assorted furniture in my room to finish drying... tomorrow morning early we head out for a small ren fest..., on Monday, I will hug Darkside and tell him how much I wish he'd been there... very much I wish I could breathe the clean smell of snow, wind chill, and only 24 hours of 10.2 ppm carbon monoxide in 1994 of home... ... versus the 24 hours of 10.4 ppm carbon monoxide here in Phoenix in that same year.

....I'm homesick. Votania says I must be around this time of the year. I want snow, I want cold, I want icy sweet water right out of my parents' well, I want my own bed, I want Old Cat, I want Wefrey, I want to hear the voice of an Egyptian Fayoumis hen complaining about something, I want to debate technology with FatherSir, I want a hug from Biosis, I want to sleep knowing I'm on the top floor of a building with foot-thick walls, triple-paned windows, a door that's damn hard to open locked or unlocked.

...and Darkside will see me Monday morning, and find magic words to put it all aright. He knows how to do these things. I don't know how... but he's been there. Thank the gods for Darkside.

(he's never seen me depressed. he's never thought that i'd ever want to kill myself. he's never seen me destructive. he's never seen me reclusive. he's never seen me completely hostile to the world, smashed in the heart, crying in the corner, broken.)

...somehow he knows how to be the kind of friend that keeps this from happening.