amand_r: (HP/oppression!)
[personal profile] amand_r
So hello!

In forcible cheerfulness, because I am firmly of the mind that one can wish bad feelings away with drugs. The thing is, I wrote most of this entry earlier last night, and now I don't feel sad. So WOOT! Who knew that all I needed was a judicious application of cocoa butter sleep? This slep thing. I LIKES IT.

1. Bonus! Tonight, [livejournal.com profile] sthayashi and his lovely wife are coming over, and we shall be drinking beer. Last time they were here, I had NINE. NINE. It was intergalactic planetary (planetary intergalactic). Hey! That was also the first night I met my boyfriend, Mister Cone! Mister Cone! Two weeks ago today! We should celebrate!

Mr Cone: WHUM WHUM WHUM WRRRRRRRRRRRR WHUM WHUM WHUM NGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGT.

Aw, you charmer, you.

2. Hey there people, when you read Fray, do you ever wish Joss would just cool it with the future speak? I feel like I'm reading The Dark Knight Returns again, but with better art. I don't care how language is going to mutate in the next three hundred years or whatever. I'd like some fracking English. Aaaaaaand oh, Amand-r, how irony tastes like irony. Metal, and a layer of dirty cherries underneath, my precious. You know what would be great? Irony-flavored Alcopops.

3. I had a dream Wednesday night that two of my good friends called me up and wanted me to come over. When I got there, they sat me down and told me that they were getting a divorce. I don't know where she planned on moving, but he was going to rent the apartment they live in. It was surreal, and I am left with an uneasy feeling that will not go away. They were all like, "well, we've been growing apart for a while now, and blah blah."



4. Also, Wednesday night I had a conversation with someone in which they were feeling bad about themselves because they didn't have someone. I think they mentioned that the only person who ever accepted their proposal of marriage had been crazy or something (the phrase was "the only person who ever said yes to me"), and the last partner that they had had was apparently getting married (they broke up about four months ago.). Then I did what I usually do, and put my foot in it, by trying to joke about it: I said, "Look at it this way. The only person who ever said yes to me put a bullet in his skull."



Wow. I have to remember that that shit isn't funny. Also. I have to remember that the conversation wasn't about me and my pain (or apparent lack thereof.) Said individual began to apologize about complaining, and all I could say was, "No no no, I'm an idiot, your pain is completely valid, and I wish I could help you."

But the damage is done. I keep having to remind myself that my pain isn't greater than anyone else's, really, because all pain is a matter of perspective. What I consider to be great is based on what I have felt and/or seen myself, and what you consider great is spiraled off of your experiences.

That said, I garner a sense of satisfaction referencing that act out loud to myself. It's like, if I say it, I think it, and it doesn't seem so bad. If I see it, imagine it, then I understand it more. And I can think past my gut reaction about it being a rejection of me, because it wasn't. It was a rejection of great many other things (and I was part of it, but not all of it).

And I try to imagine it. I draw it out in full physical detail. I want to describe what I think of, and even as I consider what to type, I wonder what purpose it serves. If I say these things to you, are you to be shocked? Am I then projecting my pain to you? Is this the verbal internet-equivalent of wailing, shaking your shoulders and saying "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HIS FEELS LIKE." Or, to quote one of my favorite wankers, "HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A MASS GRAVE??!"

So I keep that list to myself, much in the manner that I should have kept that comment to myself. If I can force myself to be cheerful around it, then I can make it disappear, because I am firmly of the mind that one can wish bad feelings away with drugs.

OMG BAD FUCKING LITERARY TECHNIQUE IN MY LJ.

Someone needs to be spanked. And it ain't me. Wait, yes it is.


5. Beer will cure what ails you.

6. You know what I wish there was more of in the world? Live Band Karaoke.

7. I forgot how much I loved [livejournal.com profile] arsenicjade, but NO LONGER. (HIGHLY EDITED, BABE)

Me: Grammar is like math. I understand grammar. It's like...when you approach a story and say to yourself, "Okay then, what am I trying to convey with this shit?" Because I don't fucking know. I wrote this thing, and here it is. Convey away.
Arsenic:: Well, except, I write stories all the time where like, I'm trying to convey something. and then people see something completely different in it that works for them, and I'm like, "awesome." It doesn't really matter that that wasn't my intent. Why does it matter what's conveyed?
Me: I guess, so that the story has a point. Like, did Hemingway ever worry about this shit? No, he fucking drank gin and punched cows in the face. Someone get me a bull to punch in the face.

I think I am done today. XD Yes. Yes I am. Now wait. Meme later. Oh no. Correction: l8tr.
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