Feeling:
Listening to:
Reading/Watching:

... with Nine Days's lyrics. Haha, got your hopes up, didn't I? And no, I don't mean that Story of a Girl song. You'll never accuse me of crying a river- I'd never have that kind of dedication. A large pond, maybe.

"If I could change anything, then I would change everything. These bitter days shall remain."

Hee hee, HTML check. Just trying to see what all I can do on this site. I guess it's a bunch. The tune gets me more than anything, but I always find my heart choking me when I sing along with those words. Tonight for some reason, frustration is just crowding me. Might be because I started this diary entry twice already and had to begin again because my (imagine there are numerous cusswords here) computer upstairs crashed AOL twice. I really hate the catch 22... this one is inordinately slow for some imagined reason (It's six freaking months old. It can't be this screwed up this fast), and the other doesn't freaking work for more than five minutes. It loved the cable connection at school, but here? Nuh-uh. It pitches hissyfits until I'm ready to pitch a hissyfit. And I know St. Moo wouldn't accept the laptop back in sixteen neatly polished little pieces.

As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted twice... don't you ever have those days where you just feel small? Where you catch yourself using big abstracts like "life" "the world" "people," etc, and making every noun plural to add to its big-ness? It comes from watching the expression on the face of every driver you pass on the road, wondering what's going through their mind... or touching the glossy spines of the display books in the store and hearing yourself say for the millionth time with that almost-canned-sounding optimism, "This will be me. This will be me."

It makes me restless- feeling small. Feeling big as Christmas is at least easier to ride through... it makes you jaded and guilty when it subsides, but it's good for the tough times. Smallness increases the tough times. Even though I know comparing myself solely to those I consider "less" in some infinitesimal way is ridiculous, weak, and proud, it feels stronger.

"You carry your blues behind your eyes. Don't flatter yourself, I will survive. So carry your blues, your own denial; your feathers are gone, you'll never fly."

Das vedanya, Petya. Even though I know I spelled that wrong. And I probably should have spelled it F-U-C-K Y-O-U but eh bien. (I think I'll just put song lyrics in marquees tonight. It's fun, along with being reminiscent of Lala's homepage.)

I was watching You've Got Mail today. Meg Ryan always reminds me of her best movie, When Harry Met Sally. Which makes me wonder what will happen in five years... whether I'll have one of those movie-like run-ins with someone from my past, and the second time around things will be different. That time, "Irwin" would be ready to kiss. That time, "Aaron" would put down his trumpet, stop blushing, and do something about something. That time, "Charlie Brown" would be sorry. That time, "Drummer Boy" would look good. That time, I'd be older and somehow more than I am now. And things would work.

(Tiger, you are not in that list because you haven't come and gone. You haven't even come, officially... don't worry, soon you will have your very own if-only attached.)

Anyway. Meg Ryan wrote Tom Hanks an e-mail saying "good night, dear void" (among other things). She was feeling small. It sparked off my feeling small. Darn her.

If I am only here to watch you as you suffer, I will let you down.

This one's for you, Tiger. Both for and from. Bises. (Not literally, you know that.) I find myself wondering today what next year will bring. Whether having you there will make things better. Or whether you'll watch as I fall off your pedestal and wallow for a while in worse things.

Must take that song "Bitter" off Repeat... P.S. pardon me for not making sense.

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