Feeling: crackled
Listening to: Regina Spektor - Human of the Year
Reading/Watching: Chuck, Season 2

Seriously, is it stamped on my forehead?

Have I pre-emptively started playing this character, and now people are drawn to my Maureen-ness?

It's been three weeks, people. Not even three weeks since my sad, Brave Little Toaster of a heart was sent to the scrap pile, and there they are: the "friends" who loved to hang out so much during the summer when I was a frantic forest fire. They didn't care that I was burning, as long as there was a chance they'd get laid. When I got a boyfriend? ::Poof:: like a magic trick, gone. Such good friends.

Here we go again. Some are more subtle than others, but for heaven's sake: a few might as well club me over the head and drag me to their cave.

News flash: I am NOT ACTUALLY Maureen. I am not the wild superslut who craves attention so badly that she'll put out for half the neighborhood. I'm a girl who doesn't like to be home in her empty house at night, that's all. Going out dancing, to movies and shows, does NOT mean I'm ready to get busy. It just means I can't stand to be alone with my thoughts.

Sigh. Rehearsals cannot start soon enough. (still ecstatic about the part, by the way...)

I do want to go out and celebrate. I want to have some drinks with a big group and listen to music and dance and joke and laugh. I do not want to meet up one-on-one for dinner. At least, not if you're a straight male. (door's still open for my girls, I promise.)

I'm just far too likely to drink too much and get too lonely and do something really, really stupid because some part of me misses being held. Which is probably why I'm so appealing in the first place. Brilliant.

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