Straight No Chaser

Mildness, Clinically Proven

i hate my life right now. i had to take the endless drive home from austell by myself tonight, because krystle (flake flake flake) flaked out on me (flake!); not entirely her fault, as it turned out, because she was having drama with her drug dealer ex-boyfriend, but still. long long drive on a three-lane highway with nothing interesting to look at, except, eventually, the skyline, which i've grown to hate as well.

i don't remember how i felt about the skyline at first, two years ago, but i associate it pretty strongly with anger, now. i see it and i drive faster, my ankle starts hurting from flooring the gas so hard, and it's unclear whether i'm trying to outrun it or plow damage-inducingly through it. austell wasn't worth it anyway, because the movies we ended up seeing weren't that good, and i realized, pulling into the guys' apartment complex, that i'd forgotten to put in earrings. which, trust me, is a big deal, when you look like death, which i currently do.

i don't get into specifics a lot, a fact that's been pointed out by katrina, christina, jodi, ernie, at least one aaron and every other reader i've ever had. it's not being shy or coy, i don't think. i just believe in the value of negative space. ask an artist; the part you don't clutter with color and texture is quite often just as important as the part you do. in writing, the nonsensical drivel helps to shape the unsaid. either way, whether you do it blatantly or indirectly, you can wind up with some pretty strong statements. not that that's my intention, or anything. just, i'd rather let it be known that i'm not enjoying life, currently (see opening sentence), and then tangent off about skylines.

and. aunt pam and uncle emmanuel should be on the road right now, driving down from the district to contribute to the homecoming madness. they're crazy. in my experience, that's a thirteen-hour drive you only have to take once before it becomes totally not worth the money you save on airfare. they should arrive thirteen hours after midnight, their departure time, and then they'll be here, and spies. my mom's own personal recon team, notepads out, reading to report back. she hasn't been eating. not true, i have, just, today for example, dinner was lemon pepper tofu with peppers and rice. her room is an unholy mess. maybe, but you try living a real life in the confines of what might as well be a shoebox, and sharing said shoebox with a stranger from california. i don't know how to explain it, monice, she just doesn't look happy. so...what? where are my presents? they will take godbrother jonathan and me to dinner, probably, and then express concern over my plans thereafter. i will have to be incredibly deceptive, maybe more so than i'd have to be if mom herself were here.

when my pre-college midatlantic world collides with my slightly more independent georgian world, maryland always wins. always. because i've never been around my godmother in anything but a subordinate, pupil-type role, and i wouldn't know how to now, even on my own territory. i just want there to be a huge crash, and then for it to be over. completely over. fast forward to monday, when anyone gives a damn what i think or want, already.

i'm going to strangle melony if she doesn't stop leaving her phone in the room, set to the loudest, most unimaginably abrasive ringtone ever. one time i switched it to silent, and then her alarm didn't go off the next morning, and it was my fault she missed class.

i'm irritated with myself for what i'm about to do, three minutes from now.

to hell with negative space. i hate what's happening with marcus, right now. or, to be fair, i am profoundly frustrated with what's happening with marcus, right now. and, more so, with my increasingly toolish reaction to what's happening with marcus right now. because he's trying, he tried to read my upset, earlier, and he misread because i'm being a bitch about it. he tried to talk me out of feeling threatened by the intensity of his schedule right now, thinking i felt geniunely, inherently worthless, or something, because he's busy right now. sooo five years ago. i'm not jealous of any of his responsibilities, i just think he's juggling them poorly. i'm not afraid i'm going to lose him forever if i don't see him till monday. i'm not as stupid as i evidently make myself out to be. it's other stuff, little stuff, none of it major enough to complain about with him, just to occasionally broach with sensitivity and openness, compounded by the fact that i generally hate this part of the school year, marcus notwithstanding.

my crap shit hell fucking goddamn fault. he ministers to almost every need with amazing precision. when he doesn't, it's because the need has been improperly or incompletely conveyed. and also, i think dean baxter crushed my ego this morning, with the midterm thing. the silence in that classroom was like nothing i've ever heard.

because, at heart, i am really just a socially awkward nerd who doesn't understand most matters of the heart, and really just wants to get by with good grades and an occasional happy moment.