66: almost forget
Working my way through my Lewis Carroll collection and am enjoying myself thus far. The Other Boleyn Girl has therefore been put aside for the moment. I was doing a little spring cleaning the other day, found some interesting trinkets lost in my closet, and I have every intention of doing the same to the rest of my room. Will work on my government homework sometime later this week to catch up before next.
I wrote this entry a while ago, and this paragraph should have been me being sickeningly nostalgic, a feeling that crops up every now and again. For all the times I brush aside the memories with slight bitterness and the occasional joke, as I'm sure the recuperating process always works, I never quite believe myself. Subconsciously, or sometimes even consciously, I think I miss it. It's more concentrated in this week because I managed to pull out the gift wrapped boxes with their attached letters and such, and it's such a waste to see it lingering in my bedroom. I don't know, I don't know.
In any case, I used to swear a lot in my old journals. Was a little harsher around the edges, less self-conscious about the things I said, and very anti-authority. Funny how I am now – totally opposite (unless provoked to rage, of course). Now I'm careful about the way I act around certain people, a bit reluctant to be as outspoken, less willing to be everything in fear I might offend someone. The inhibition is making me confused. I don't blame any particular learning circumstance, but I've chosen to rethink some things, even though I probably never had to. More of a personal qualm than anything, really.
Thinking carefully about the plan in May. It has to be on a sunny (and non-windy) day, and some other small details that I still have to figure out. Otherwise, I'm already looking into what to make, how to bring it, where to set up – that sort of thing. And then I'm thinking about how I could combine it with ----, which means I'm going to have to talk to ---- fairly soon. Maybe this April I'll get around to it.
Hm, got a little sloshed this past Saturday. Well, not really, but it was a very quick and long-lasting buzz, despite having only a shot of some Fernet. Not as strong as vodka, though that's mostly up for debate, but I reacted faster than I normally would. Just one shot, and then hard lemonade to down the rest. Crashed sometime a little before midnight. No drunken debauchery, no wasted phone calls telling people I love them – true or untrue. Instead, I just fall asleep. It's quite funny.
Planning to see Wade with Riri coming along to diffuse any probable awkwardness. Going to his apartment in Napa for a while, drink a bit, and reminisce. And I'm not driving so it's good. I haven't seen Riri since high school, and I stopped seeing Wade after I stopped needing him but, you know, reunions are always interesting? Not really.
Have I talked about NIN's Ghost album yet? Because it is pretty darn amazing, if I do say so myself. And Brian Viglione on drums? Yes, please!
I have a swing out in the backyard. A lot of the time, if the weather permits, I'll just go out there with my headphones on, the music on high volume, and pretend I'm not there. It's almost liberating. And sometimes I'll write letters to no one in chalk on the concrete, and I'll come back the following day to see that it's been overridden with a child's art rendition of a train or person, more often than not stick figures.
