Either I need to stop trying to make plans with people, or get used to being constantly cancelled on. Lose-lose. Maybe I’m just no fun to be around. But at least they’re happy, right?
Over the past few days I’ve been having moments where I have the overwhelming urge to sob, but I never can and never do.
So, tonight was fun. Queen Extravaganza with my uncle and Nikk at the House of Blues. I was a bit underwhelmed at first, what with having seen the Queen tribute earlier last year, but it picked up in the second half of the show.
I didn’t realize there would be four singers, and I was only expecting this one guy, Marc Martel (who is this dude who looks and sounds like Freddie, but is still notably different). Nikk and I soon navigated through the four singers and dubbed them: rocker guy, the chick, that other guy, and the Freddie guy (Martel). Mmm. Queen music live.
- I cried during Under Pressure, as always. I collapsed in happy and my vision was clouded by HAPPY CRIES.
- I was the lonely scream two seconds into the One Vision intro, and lost my voice in the lyrics.
- I think I slapped a woman during Don’t Stop Me Now.
- There is a chance I was acting out the lyrics in mad gesticulation to Love of My Life. Mfff, that song.
- Radio Ga Ga was all the dancing. You know what, all the songs were all the dancing.
- “TOO MUCH METAL FOR ONE HAAAAND. AHHH.” -Nikk
I tend to scream that phrase a lot.
Good night, still sore from dancing everything. Pretty sure I pulled my shoulder from over-zealously fist pumping.
Source: kirsthestars
Horrible phone-quality photos, but oh my god so gooooooooood.
And so tired.
It’s not so much that I *can’t* write anymore.
But a part of me doesn’t want to share my thoughts in words, even if those words are for my eyes only. My emotions are selfish; I want to cradle them in my own head,
to nurture them,
and save them for later.
Panic attack because I’m having the most difficult time finding a job and every single time I find something that seems promising there’s just one thing that disqualifies me from applying and I keep finding jobs that aren’t affiliated with UIC but my student visa doesn’t authorize off-campus employment which limits my search by A LOT and I’ve been trying to find ways to make money online but selling stuff hasn’t been working and everything else is really questionable and/or costs money to make money which is counterproductive.
The boy was supposed to stay over tonight.
Partly because he works on campus and commuting is easier when he stays with me. Partly because we haven’t had sex in a couple days. Partly because staying at home with his parents makes him anxious. Mostly because we promised to watch Archer only when we can watch together while cuddling and we’re both dying to finish season 2.
He was supposed to text me when he was planning on heading over, but it’s past 10 now and he’s probably still drunk from barbecuing with his friends in the forest and I doubt he’ll have the motivation to come over this late unless his sister drives him so he doesn’t have to take the train.
Objectively speaking, I’m justified in my annoyance and moping because he was the one who decided on this and I get irritated when people back out of simple plans without telling me about it, and also I don’t get to watch Archer or get laid. But I still can’t help but feel just a little needy, because we do tend to spend a lot of time together, and it’s super easy for me to hang out with my friends while he really only gets to see his when he’s home for the summer.
On what people think of me, why it matters, and why it doesn’t.
I’m not going to say that I don’t care about what people think of me, because it simply isn’t true. I care very much so about whether or not people like me or don’t like me. The most important thing in my life is the people in it, and part of that is how they perceive me as an individual.
But one person’s bad opinion of me isn’t going to make me want to change who I am. I know my strengths and weaknesses, and if I decide to work on a facet of my personality, it’s not going to be for the sake of coddling someone else’s fragile sensibilities.
Got a babysitting job in the fall!
!!!
Siphon coffee with the Dugtrio, sushi date with Kirsten, officially rode my bike for the first time (!), and got to talk to Jerrod after what seems like forever. Happy happy.
I woke up crying.
I’m not one to remember dreams, but the ones I do remember are often the worst ones to stick in my memory. I woke up crying, shaking, and gasping for air, and the boy just held me as I sobbed into his chest and tried to make sense of my incoherent blithering. I’m writing this out because writing helps, even and especially when it’s not pretty.
—
A random stranger who I was only associated with because of the situation we were all in was punishing himself for a reason I can’t remember. A crowd had formed, made up of his family, friends, and the rest of us curious onlookers. He had beaten and flogged himself to the point of near death, and I vividly remember seeing his skull cracked open and bleeding onto the pavement.
The entire crowd was gathered begging him to stop hurting himself, but he insisted and continued beating himself. He stood on a ledge and would threaten to jump if anyone got close enough to touch him. It was a hopeless situation, for his injuries were far too extensive to make recovery plausible, and yet we all urged him to come back, to let us help him, but to no avail.
Eventually the crowd began to thin out, starting first with the strangers. And yet I stayed. This was a man who was a complete stranger to me — I can’t even remember his face in the dream — and yet I stayed. I stayed with his family and friends as even they began to dwindle in numbers. Some even started to become aggravated with his stubbornness, claiming that if he thought he deserved punishment so much, then perhaps he should just kill himself. It would be easier on all of us, they said.
The numbers dropped lower and lower until I was the only one left. This man was bleeding profusely and crying and cursing me for giving a damn about his fucking worthless life, and why does a complete stranger care so much about whether or not I live or die even when my own family is so irritated that they’re encouraging me to just jump and end all this dramatic, attention-seeking behaviour?
I got as close as I could to him, reaching vainly towards him with my hands to try and touch this man, to just feel what his skin feels like before his inevitable jump. I was sobbing and begging please, please don’t jump because I love you so much and I just want you to be alive.
—
And then I woke up.
Yaaaaaay.
A week and a horrendously large sum of money later, I have my bike back.
And of course now I want a basket for it because I can’t bike AND carry a cake at the same time.
Last night. Farewell for Stefano, and a lone beer in honour of Joël. Love these guys.
Hung out with the Dugtrio today. The boy and I were supposed to meet Stefano and Harold at a bar after, but we both deflated in a pile of exhaustion as soon as we got back to my dorm, so we’re seeing them tomorrow instead.
Today was a good day.
