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anonniemouse ([personal profile] anonniemouse) wrote in [community profile] tf_talk2015-04-09 04:03 pm

The Pit

For all your Andy-related info-dumping needs. If there's information you'd like to archive, please post it here, and feel free to link to it from the main post if you'd like to discuss it.

Victoria Bitter's LJ, part 1

(Anonymous) 2015-04-09 06:10 am (UTC)(link)
VB shit, in case of deletion:

Friday, March 22nd, 2002

6:21p - Giving in at last....
VB fills out a survey. Snert's fault. Hopefully will have it out of my system now, like the "What ____ are you" tests. Do one, no need to do more.

Right.

***




Have you ever....
01. [Fallen for your best friend?] Yes. Adrian was my best friend and the love of my life the moment I met him, though it took me a week's denial to accept that I'd fallen helplessly in love with something that had a penis.
02. [Made out w/ JUST a friend?] No, though there are a few lasses I've met lately who have me thinking such things. You know who you are.
03. [Been rejected?] Yeah. It's a feeling that ranges between the thrill of being rejected by the local Jesus Nazi community (I don't like you either!) to the shivering, unspeakable heart-pain of having part of you rejected by the parents you love dearly.
04. [Been in love?] Oh yeah.
05. [Been in lust?] I have 529 pictures of Sean Astin and counting. You tell me.
06. [Used someone?] To be honest, yes. I can be a bitch sometimes. But I do feel sorry for it later. Usually.
07. [Been used?] Yeah, because dammit, I trust people sometimes. But I try not to be used more than once...you know the old saying: "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I kick you in the head."
08. [Cheated on someone?] No.
09. [Been cheated on?] No.
10. [Been kissed?] Mmmmhmmm.
11. [Done something you regret?] More times than I care to think about.

Who was the last person...

12. [You touched?] My friend Kenny.
13. [You talked to?] My classmate LaVelle in the computer lab (not the sharpest tack in the box)
14. [You hugged?] Kenny.
15. [You instant messaged?] Cara Loup this morning, pimping Sean picness, as usual. I wouldn't be surprise if I logged on one of these days and my IM just said "Hey, I know the drill. You two chat, I'll send the new pics."
16. [You kissed?] Adrian.
17. [You had sex with?] Depends on what you define as sex. Answers could either be Adrian or no one.
18. [You yelled at?] Lorelei, but in a good way.
19. [You laughed with?] Lorelei, who is also insane.
21. [Who broke your heart?] My Mom, when she Just Didn't Understand.

Do you...

22. [Colour your hair?] Not regularly, but if the occasion calls for it, I'll be anything from a flaming red-head to Marylin Monroe blonde.
23. [Have tattoos?] Owie. Uh-uh.
24. [Piercings?] Ears.
25. [Have a boyfriend/girlfriend/both?] Have the wonderful Ozzie Bloke, Adrian, my boyfriend/fiancee/best friend/soulmate/heart.
27. [Own a webcam?] Poor and squicked. No.
28. [Ever get off the damn computer?] We likeses the Pixel Face....
29. [Sprechen sie deutsche?] Nein.
30. [Habla espanol?] Non.
31. [Quack?] With the utmost dignity.

Have you / do you...

32. [Stolen anything?] Depends on whether you consider MP3s, bootleg movies, and pirated software to be stealing. Oh, and I got really desperate once and shoplifted a packet of ramen noodles.
33. [Smoke?] If you ever see me smoking, run for help, because it means I'm on fire.

Lookie! The numbers jump...

44. [Schizophrenic?] Let us get back to you on that one.
45. [Obsessive?] 529. Your call.
46. [Compulsive?] Sleep...fic...sleep...chat...sleep...draw...sleep always lose. VB probably answers this one safely yes.
47. [Obsessive compulsive?] About fandom, hey-yall yes. About cleanliness? VB The Forked bursts out laughing
48. [Panic?] Look at the last few days of entries and the Great Fantwit Kerfluffle for your answer there.
49. [Anxiety?] Part of being perceptive, I reckon. World's too fucked-up not to be anxious about a lot of stuff once you decide to give a shit.
50. [Depressed?] And how. Am hoping change of location helps this.
51. [Suicidal?] Not recently.
52. [Obsessed with hate?] Depends on what about.
53. [Dream of mutilated bodies, blood, death, and gore?] Thanks to a combination of military past-life memories, love of militaria, and a nasty temper, yes.
54. [Dream of doing those things instead of just seeing them?] See previous answer.
55. [If you could be anywhere, where would you want to be?] London, England.
56. [Who would you be with?] All my net friends, Adrian, Kenny, and my co-lyricist.
57. [What would you be doing?] Running an asylum for fen.
58. [What are you listening to?] The humming of the air conditioning unit in the computer lab.
59. [Can you do anything freakish with your body?] Am quite flexible, but freakiest body trick...must ask Adrian.
60. [Chicken or fish?] Fissshhhesses!
62. [Is ice cream the best thing in the world?] Nope...quite the 'take it or leave it' for me, actually.

[A - Age] 21
[B - Best Quality] Insanity, which leads to Creativity sometimes
[C - Choice Of Meat] Crab
[D - Dream Date] Adrian
[E - Exciting Adventure] Going on a two-week survival trek through the north of Scotland...I WILL do that some day before I die
[F - Favorite Food] Cadbury Eggs, Peeps, custard, lemon merangue pie, crab legs, or good sushi
[G - Greatest Accomplishment] BoE
[H - Happiest Day of Your Life] When I got my Sean autograph, because it symbolized so much love and came at such a dark time in my life.
[I - Interests] See LJ profile. Do not have time to retype life :-D
[K - Kool-Aid] Cherry. Like Red Things, I do.
[L - Love] Adrian, some of my fan friends, the English Language.
[M - Most Valued Thing I Own] Money value? Computer. Heart value? The ring Adrian gave me.
[N - Name] Victoria Bitter online, Amy Player in reality.
[O - Outfit You Love] For cuddling around? My pink-and-green-moose-print flannel pajamas with the feet on them. For looking hot? My black corset with black leather pants and boots. For being fan-geeky? My Frodo costume.
[P - Pizza] Mushrooms, onions, bacon, green pepper, and tomatoes. Thin-crust.
[Q - Question Asked To You The Most] How's the fic coming?
[S - Sport To Watch] AFL
[T - Television Show] Due South, Horatio Hornblower, Trading Spaces, Sharpe's Rifles, just about anything on Discovery Channel, History Channel, Learning Channel, or A&E (am geek)
[U - Ur Favorite Song] Do not ask me this. Head will explode.
[W - Winter] Should just go away already. Hate mud when must ride bike.
[Y - Year Born] 1980.
[Z - Zodiac Sign] Dunno

Victoria Bitter's LJ, part 2

(Anonymous) 2015-04-09 06:11 am (UTC)(link)
***

Friday, April 12th, 2002

Love is a very complicated thing.
We like to think that it comes in a complete package, if we only find the Right Person, or that if some part of that mental/physical/emotional/sexual/spiritual/social package is missing, then it's Not Really Love. I'm beginning to seriously doubt that pretty fantasy.



I grew up, like any good little conservative Christian lass, assuming that I was straight. After all, homosexuality was a Lifestyle Choice made by strange people who were either sick, traumatized, rebellious, or just plain sinful. My lack of crushes on boys was just because I was a tomboy and surely I just subconsciously rejected boys as too girly a thing to be into. My fascination with my cousin's blossoming body and those of my friends was just a natural curiosity due to my own late puberty. My blase, even revolted reaction to tales of het romance and sexuality was probably due to my precocious literary scruples, and I just needed to find some to my taste.

When I got into fanfiction, I was of course too good a lass to even look in the direction of those nasty slashy people I'd heard of, because I could write het, really, even if I never felt comfortable with it, and even if I always gravitated towards pairings in which nothing actually happened (Fraser/Thatcher, pre-Day of Honour Paris/Torres) and the lass was actively pushing the lad away.

I made my final break with Christianity, discovered slash, hit puberty, and acknowledged that having graphic fantasies about girls, ogling girls, and having no more than astetic/intellectual fascination with lads was indicative of lesbianism within eighteen months between fourteen-and-a-half and sixteen. Extremely tumultuous, but also very liberating.

I tried coming out to my parents, but my mother was of the opinion that just because I talked a lot about Tom Paris and Benton Fraser when I was twelve and thirteen, I must be straight, because that means I've Had Crushes On Guys. Mother is not willing to accept that A) I have never had anything that could be interpreted as a crush on a guy either local, attainable, or within twenty years of my own age or that B) my interest in Tom and Ben was from the standpoint of enigmas. These guys were considered good looking, were interesting as character constructions, but I couldn't get them to feel right when paired with the lasses, so I collected pictures, read articles, tried to dig myself into the physical beauty, and ripped them apart from blue eyes to conflicted psyches.

To be honest, though I say I have a crush on Sean Astin now, it's really just the easiest shorthand to understand the kind of fan-love I feel for him. Were he naked, willing, and Christine-less in front of me now, I would happily drool over his amazing beauty and talk him late into the night for that amazing heart, but to be honest, not even the most skin-revealing red-hot photo in my collection causes the slightest tingle down there. Sets off the eyes and the fingers and the heart and the brain, oh yes, but the nether regions....

This complexity of what constitutes a Crush, and how you can find someone beautiful and sexy as all hell but not be sexually attracted to them...this was, I think, my first inkling of the problems that were yet to come.

I accepted my identity as a lesbian. I was very comfortable in it. It felt right. I dated some girls, kissed here and cuddled there, but never went very far. Hey, I was young, it was a conservative area, and my girlfriends were always ten years or so older than me and we were both always aware of the potential problems there.

Then I met Adrian. From the first moment I met him, it was as if my soul had clicked with the proverbial Other Half. Adrian was amazing. Smart, funny, sweet, sensative, caring, loyal, spontaneous, insightful...everything I had ever dreamed of and then some.

Only one problem. Adrian was of the penis-bearing gender. Threw me for a loop like you would not believe. See, I was in love. Big time, unquestionably in love. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Never wanted to be apart from him for even a moment. He made me feel like I had somehow at once transcended and completed myself, and I would give anything for him. I would die for him without a moment's question, and I know he'd do the same for me. I even saw beauty in him where others saw a gawky teen...he has gorgeous green-grey-hazel eyes, long lashes, full, lovely lips, long, elegant fingers, great legs...

We loved each other, and he was a guy (despite being more than slightly androgynous in personality), so obviously, I'd been mistaken. I was still strongly attracted to girls, but now that I loved a man so dearly, I had to be bi. Right? Right. So I accepted that I was bi. We agreed to be married. Everything was perfect.

Except for one thing. I wasn't sexually attracted to him. Oh, I found him beautiful, yes. And if we worked on it, he could make me enjoy our sexual interactions well enough. Only I didn't really want him to touch me too intimately. And I was so adverse to the idea of him putting his penis inside me that I flat out vetoed it 'until marriage.' I figured that would give me time to adjust. You're not supposed to enjoy sexuality right away anyhow, right? Maybe if we communicated better, if we shared our kinks, our fantasies...maybe if we tried it this way, or if I started taking medicine for my depression, or if I started mentally substituting him for someone, or if...if...if... It was really starting to eat at me. I loved him. Our relationship was perfect. He was perfect. I loved him so much that I didn't understand why I wasn't fucking him like a rabbit on Viagra.

I thought maybe I was just sexually dead. Adrian was unhappy. Yet he loved me. I was unhappy. Yet I loved him. Wanted to share my life with him. We couldn't figure out what the problem was. I was bi, right? I had to be. I loved a man.

Then I went to Connexions.

For the first time in my life, I was surrounded by over a hundred women, all of whom were accepting of same-sex relationships, the majority of whom were lesbian or bisexual, and a considerable number of whom were so my type.

I can say without question now that I am not sexually dead. Indeed, I spent the entire weekend in various stages of arousal. And there was more than that.

I fell in love.

There was a lass there whom I already knew fairly well over the internet. I knew her personality, her sense of humour, her general background. We clicked really well in person, and moreover, she turned out to be absolutely beautiful. Next thing I knew, we were in bed. And oh, all the responses that I thought were dead and gone were so there. Fireworks and all that.

So matters had become infinitely more complex, as it was obvious that my original assessment of lesbian was pretty much dead accurate for sexual orientation, no matter what gender(s) I was capable of loving. While I'd had a long talk with Adrian before doing anything with this lass, and he had told me that I needed to explore that avenue else I'd always wonder and that could do horrible things to our relationship, I now found myself in a very strange situation.

I still loved Adrian to an epic extent. I would still die for him. I still liked to snuggle with him, hold his hand, kiss him gently now and again, still wanted to spend my life with him, still wanted to be his best friend and so much more...to be his everything. Yet now I also loved this other lass. No, it wasn't the same soul-deep bond as Adrian, but it was love, and deep friendship, and sexual attraction at a level Adrian and I could not even imagine.

I loved him. I wanted him. I loved her. I wanted her.

I was torn in two.

Finally, it was Adrian who decided matters. He pointed out that there was nothing that I was enjoying in our relationship that had to do with sex, and when you remove sex, then we're not really left in a romance any more. True, it's deeper than any conventional definition of friendship, and true, we love each other and want to always always be there for each other, but getting married just plain doesn't make sense. He doesn't want to close me off from the sexual part of my life forever, to deny that which is a part of me. So we're now agreeing to be the dearest of friends forever, to even try always to live near each other, but I am going to pursue my romance with this lass.

I will never stop loving Adrian. I will always love him in a way that is deeper than words and so much more than friendship. But it's not sex, and to fulfill that part of myself, I need a lass. And I can love that lass, and just because it's not the SAME way I love Adrian doesn't make it any less, nor does loving her sexually and not him make THAT any less.

And suddenly, today, I realized that this made So Much Sense in terms of the Sam/Rosie/Frodo dynamic. Sam loves Frodo. Loves him tremendously. Loves him so much that it transcends all our cultural understanding of love. He's probably even had sexual experiences with Frodo, and probably enjoyed them. Certainly, one's own pleasure completely aside, there is also huge pleasure in bringing pleasure to one you love, and I know that a LOT of what Adrian and I did was just me enjoying pleasing him far more than his doing anything to me. But Sam can also love Rosie. And enjoy sex with her so much that they have thirteen children almost as fast as is physically possible. And be torn between the two of them without loving either one less.

I only wish that the 'move us all into Bag End' was an option here. As it is, all of the 'real-world' options still contain degrees of Suck that I don't much like.

Victoria Bitter's LJ, part 3

(Anonymous) 2015-04-09 06:12 am (UTC)(link)
***

Friday, April 19th, 2002

10:23a - I am wounded. It will never really heal.
The events of the last forty-eight hours have been...interesting, to say the least. When I took the oaths of a Paladin and began training, I expected spirit-plane battles. I expected that I might be asked to do extraordinary things. I just didn't expect it. Same as any soldier. They know that soldier=war, but there's still a sense of oh, FUCK when the bullets start flying. I mean, I've done this sort of thing before on an extremely minor scale with the aid of my Master. This time, it was completely alone, as she was under life-threatening attack herself, and I was facing some major-league shit.

Yes, I survived, but yes, I was wounded. The little cuts and bites (which show up in the real world as aches and pains and inexplicable bruises) are insubstantial, but I was wounded twice quite severely. The first was a sword-blow to the back of my shoulders which cut me near to the bone in an attempt to sever my head, and that has left me in such pain that I am currently on 800mg of ibuprofen in an attempt to get through the day and can barely raise my arms. The second was a sword-thrust to the belly, and I had feared that one might be mortal for a while. I know it's serious. I'm bleeding, and it's two weeks off my cycle, with no cramps, though I am in pain. I'm very regular, and I always cramp. The palms of my hands are also bright red, as if burned, and bleeding in little hair-thin cracks at the joints. I'm telling people I scalded myself.

Stranger, though, is what I've been left with spiritually and mentally. I am...suddenly old. I have all of his memories. All of them. From toddler to the day he died. Over a hundred years of memories, every day, every moment crystal-clear in full sensory detail. He's five times my age in life-years. I don't know what to do with this. It's overwhelming me by sheer mass of memory. I know things now, understand things that I'm just too young to, and I don't know what to do with it. I don't even think in the same language any more. My own cradle-tongue is now something as if learned, something I have to translate INTO for speech and text. My thoughts come in the words of his youth.

And he wants to come back. Just briefly, for a good reason, and I know I will accomidate him. Indeed, he carries so much positive energy now that I know it will be healing to me. But it will also be tiring. These things, no matter how positive, always are. And I'm so very, very tired already.

Indeed, I am exhausted. No, exhausted doesn't begin to cover it. I am exanimate. I want to - I need to - just go to my room and light candles and put up a few protection charms and curl up to lick my wounds and sort out all this shit for a day or two at least. I know I'll never be the same, but perhaps with a few days rest I could be functional again.

But I'm already way past my curl-up-and-hide limit at school. Way overdue on a lot of projects. It's the last two weeks of the semester. And I have work atop that. So no rest for the weary. I don't have a lot of choices, but I just wanted to tell the few people that would understand so that they wouldn't worry too much about me, and so they'd understand if I wasn't my usual peppy, fic-delivering self. Indeed, I wonder now if I can ever write again.

I know too much...

Namenast. Namenast, mi amma

***

7:01p - The Suck is strong with this one...
I've just been outed to my parents, not only as a lesbian, but as a slasher and all around freak...they saw my LJ. In relation to this incident, I've lost my best real life friend. I may not be moving to Atlanta after all. There is talk of mental institutions. My school work is way behind and threatening to tank utterly. I ran out of anti-depressants three weeks ago and the parents are dragging their feet on refilling the prescription. I may be getting another eye infection. My best online friends are decompensating. My muses have committed mass suicide. I have been so caught up in my own shit lately that I have potentially killed things with the new girlfriend. I am trying unsuccessfully to deal with the sudden dump of over 100 years of crystal-clear memories from the sort of life that would keep a shrink happy for millenia. I no longer think in English, and no one else currently living speaks the language I do think in now.

Can I just go back to bed for a week or three?

***

Wednesday, April 24th, 2002

2:28a - Welcome to the not-so-wonderful world of VB's mucked-up relationships...
I am scared f*cking sh*tless.

Because my parents are trying to get me committed? Because I might actually be crazy? Because my grades are up in the air and about to land with a resounding splat? Because my future currently hangs by a modem-cord and a few applications to colleges I may not be able to attend anyway?

No.

Because there are people out there who really love me.

I've been sitting here with myself this evening trying to figure out what in Middle Earth is wrong with me. I've been treating people like crap lately, one person in particular...not answering her emails, running from her on IM, hesitating to give her my contact information...and simultaneously not knowing why I was doing it and unable to stop myself. I feel horrible about it, and worse because I didn't understand why. Now, at least, I think I've had a bit of a lightbulb, and sure, it's a bloody cliched illumination, but it still counts.

My life has not been the biggest unconditional love-fest. Not to get into the gory details of VB's life, but all my childhood 'friends', for some reason, liked to use me as a punching bag. I was 6 and getting held under the water in the pool by Sarah and 8 and getting my wrist broken by Whitney and 10 and wearing long pants to hide where Rachel had thought it would be fun to drip hotwax on my skin after she'd tied me up. My parents love me deeply, but they have Major Issues with some pretty essential parts of me, like my sexuality, spirituality, morality, politics, and taste in arts and entertainment. The guy I thought was the love of my life has just stabbed me in the back pretty majorly, and before that, was behaving bloody wierd when he realized I was queer. My only sister's a Class A b*tch. Basically, I've never been really flesh-and-blood seriously in friendship or love with someone who hasn't on some level fallen short or outright betrayed me.

I fell hard in love at Connexions. Hard and fast and terrifying. I got home, and the World Descended in a great heap of crap. I should have been happy about that love, right? Should have reached out for it like a drowning hobbit. But no.

My front brain is going 'what's wrong with you, she loves you, you love her, she's hotter than a Wax Jism PWP...this should be REALLY EASY!', but my hind brain, the one that apparently controls my mouse fingers, was screaming something along the lines of "Eeek! Love! Love means HURT! Hurt BAD! Can't handle more Bad now! Keep Bad away! But tell lady to f*ck off vetoed by Front Brain who loves her. Hmmm...maybe just ignore? Nice easy cowardy solution, she'll go away on her own, and then you no get flattened no more! Okay, you'll be alone, and the people-I-love-hurt-me prophesy will have self-fulfilled, but HEY...."

And then I get all paranoid and think that I was flirting pretty outrageously. This is probably just a crush for her, and she's going to realize it soon, and that will be awful, and she lives so far away, and...next thing I know I convince myself somehow that she's just trying to get ahold of me to tell me it was just a mesmerizing short red dress all along, and I start deleting messages unread and going into full-out hiding mode.

This is also about where the former love of my life gets really down and dirty vicious and my head gets invaded by the Really Dead Folk. And all the people who love and support me on the internet, even Orange and Shawna and Adrienne and Van and such, even they I can rationalize never met me and are so safe, but I start really hysterically avoiding Pam and Loreli because they know and I'm paranoid and not thinking really clearly and sabotaging any relationship that might be risky. Including school. I've managed to shoot my grades in the foot and the people who know me there are about ready to shoot me somewhere else.

Thankfully, the fever seemed to break today with three nicely timed slaps to the face. 1) The girlfriend posted a LJ entry that made me realize that I'd really been shortchanging her and she wasn't lying in wait sharpening her knives and that maybe, to spout a ridiculous romantic cliche, I should give love a chance, because she already kind of knows I'm a wierd lesbian slasher and all that. 2) Ninglor is learning to speak Westron at a speed that is truly astonishing, and soon I won't be alone in that respect and can work out a lot of the FreakyDeakyPsychoStuff. 3) I got a look at my grades as they stand. Holy sh*t.

*sigh*

This is one of those times to invest in a good pair of kneepads. I've got some big-time groveling to do.

***

Monday, April 29th, 2002

10:52a - The good news and the bad news...
Good news: Think I can now successfully keep parents out of LJ. Have changed password a second time (in retrospect, gamgee was probably fairly easy to guess for anyone who knows me at all) and am being careful that if LJ is ever accessed from home computer, log-out is completed and all records dully wiped.

Bad news: Am currently far too fucked up to sustain anything approaching a fair relationship. Girlfriend and I are on hold for now, relationship to be possibly resumed when I get my life and head together enough to reasonably support someone else.

Good news: Am transferring jobs from this theme park to one either in LA or San Diego come the end of May or the beginning of June.

Bad news: This means the next week getaway is off.

Good news: School may not be completely shot after all.

Bad news: In order to pull off not-completely-shot, the next week will not involve sleep.

Good news: Parents are for some unfathomable reason actually letting me go to the West Coast for this job with a minimum of protest, possibly relating to flattering comments made by boss-man who wanted to transfer me because I'm the best money-maker at the park and being "wasted in a small market."

Bad news: Will only be on the West Coast until the end of summer, late August at most. Unsure of how to obtain affordable housing for such a short period of time, as most leases are at least six months, and parents worry that anything renting monthly is a "flophouse" (yes, they used that term, archaic little darlings).

Good news: Adrienne is learning Westron!

Bad news: See above. This is theoretically supposed to be a dead language. Much confusion surrounding this....relates immediately to next item.

Good news: Am on new pills to sort out head.

Bad news: New pills cause sickness to stomach.

Good news: Have many cool internet-type friends who find lovely pictures of pretty boys.
This is very good.

Thanks :-)

***

4:13p - Something is coming...
Energy is building. Something big is about to happen. Adrienne, Abbey, those closest to me in this strange thing are abuzz with it...Adrienne is having visions, Abbey having tantrums and memory rushes. And I'm...blinded. Fucking blinded because like a good little girl I took my pills and now I think in English and the memories are a dull whisper instead of a clear voice and yet the edges of my soul are itching and I know something is about to happen...and I have a motherfucking drug-induced psychic blindfold on!!!!

Made myself chunder. Bye-bye little pills. Hope you're out of my system soon, because I can't leave them to this...thing alone

Victoria Bitter's LJ, part 4

(Anonymous) 2015-04-09 06:12 am (UTC)(link)
***

Wednesday, May 8th, 2002

9:20a - Well, that's just peachy...
I've officially called it off with Pam.

Not that I don't care about her. Really care. Not that I don't lust after her. Really lust. Not that I don't really really want to make a relationship work. Really work. Not that I'm not lonely. Really lonely.

It's just that Murphy's Law being what it is, this had to come at a time in my life when I am quite honestly incapable of maintaining a relationship anything approaching fairly. Yeah, I could just put Pam on hold indefinitely and say "when my life straightens out and I'm capable of being someone's partner, we'll do this," and for a while, that's exactly what I was doing.

But that's not fair. You can't just leave someone dangling like that. And you can't un-dangle them and try to do a relationship when you know you can't hold up your end of it.

So I let her go. And maybe someday if my life ever gets back on something resembling an even keel, I'll show up at her door with flowers and chocolate. But somehow, I don't think that's likely, because frankly, I've treated her pretty badly in my attempts to squeeze blood from my own turnip, and right now, I wouldn't take me back either, even if I asked and said Life Was Good. Which it's not.

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

I think I'll go crawl in a hole somewhere.

Why do such right things always have to come at such wrong times?

***

Thursday, May 9th, 2002

3:43a - It's one of those nights.
I miss Witchwillow. Want to have pretty girls flirt brazenly with me in public and know that of course they're really flirting and of course I'm free to flirt back without getting humiliated or worse because they'd never do something like that you sick gay freak.

I think people sometimes underestimate the value of flirting.
I'm as much for Relationships as anyone, and I want a Relationship. Can't have one right now. Know that. It sucks, but I know that. But I still want to feel desirable. Which I guess is maybe selfish...it's just I'd never been hit on before by another lass, much less one oozing Hot out every pore, and there was such a thrill about being involved in that age-old mating dance, that give-and-take with pretty much a total stranger that's all the more exciting because you don't know and don't really care if it goes anywhere, but they notice you and you notice them and...

Better stop before I dig myself into an even deeper funk and find more depressing entries with which to clutter up people's friends lists.

***

Saturday, May 18th, 2002

2:38a - My last pointless spamming survey tonight, I *swear*
Number of people on my lj friends list: 97, because I've been lazy about adding. Should be around 110-112.
...whom I've met in person: Lost count at Connexions!
...whom I've met in person more than once: 1
...whose house I've been to: 0, but will soon be 1
...who have been to my house: 1
...whose precise geographic location I know offhand: 8
...whose full names I know offhand: 3
...whom I've followed/been in touch with for more than 3 years: 0
...who live outside my country: a LOT
...whose journal I consider myself "addicted" to: 7
...whom I've lived with: 0
...who's an ex: 1
...who I'd do: 3
...who I've done: 1, maybe more depending on what happened in the Twelve Hour Tequilla-Induced-Woke-Up-Starkers Memory Hole from Connexions.
...who I have a secret crush on: Now, if I said something, it wouldn't be a secret, now would it? Though she knows. :-)

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