Dearly beloved, are you listening?

Oooooh dear. Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear. Something scarily resembling real feelings might have begun on Thursday.



I think I'm in love with the guy in that Green Day video. Jesus of Suburbia. I love how miserable he is in the pursuit of love, and how, even though he's watching himself fall apart, he still helps those around him (drunk girl in the parking lot...never even said thank you).
It's sad that his grafiti words are so easily covered up; that his mark on the world was so easily forgotten.
It's sad that I'm overanalyzing a punk rock video in the desperate attempt to distract myself from school, work, family, writing the future and love....and then the phone rang....

Endless beginings....

She spoke to Mr. B yesterday. He wants a girlfriend. He's lonely. She's lonely for him. Not in the way she normally is, but in sympathy towards him. She's managed to get her feelings for him under control again (thanks in part to someone...and with the distance there's only so long she can pine for) and can speak to him now as a friend and be more there for him. She likes the way that is right now, because she doesn't want him to be lonely and it's easier to make him feel better without feeling jealous because he's met someone.
Some small part of her admits to feeling satisfaction at being the only girl he feels close enough to to talk to about this stuff. The other, better, part of her wishes he'd find someone who was good enough for him. Even if it's not her, she'd rather someone make him really happy.
Obviously this statement is immediately taken back if he does meet someone because that will be followed by an angry post demanding to know why it wasn't her...just a heads up.

Seeing quirky boy tonight. Excited?...maybe.......attatched?...of course not.

"Surgery might not be the key to fix the memory of you and me" - Boys Night Out

Alright, as the title of this post implies, she bought the Boys Night Out (hereafter reffered to as BNO) cd today. It's pretty brilliant, she has to admit. The gist of it (aptly titled, 'Trainwreck') is a collection of songs about a man who is insane and murders his wife while he was asleep, but he can't remember and still loves her so much. It's pretty heartbreaking, but the cd itself is brilliant. Especially song 7, she can't remember what it's called, but amazing song nonetheless.
It's the dead wife singing, basically, and she still loves him too but is obviously dead. Bit of a conundrum frankly.
Anyway, that was depressing, but she just had to give a quick props to the BNO cd, because it's just...well there are no words. She will google them shortly to see about concerts. And, no David, she/I (this third person business is too pretentious for words sometimes...damn you Elliot Grey for giving me the idea) wont make you listen to it, stick to Great Big Sea.

-Sidenote, the quirkily beautiful boy who shall remain nameless; lest he ever read this...is just complicated and she's not quite sure who's playing whom or if they both really mean anything they're saying. Scratch that, she's sure she means what she's saying, but not too sure what his actual feelings are. The dark side of sarcasm, you just never know when someone's being serious or not.

-Endnote: She spoke to Mr. B the other day...Jen, just have to say proves your point of being interested in someone while still caring about someone else.

End Blog Entry (it really needed an ending or she would have gone on...and she has a dentist appointment tomorow, bright and early on her only morning off.....mhmmmmmmm that's fair)

Early Saturday Morning...

A kiss goodbye in the early morning sun. She slipped on some ice while getting into the cab, watched fondly as he lit a cigarette.

She remains indifferent. She tells herself every day. There are no feelings beyond friendship. She hopes this is true.

The First Snowfall...

The first snowfall of the season. The first bitterly cold mornig where staying huddled under the blankets seems wise. (Perhaps sleeping in more than boxers and a tank top would have been wise too...)

The snow was beautiful, and the lights of the River Cafe sparkled against the flakes. It was a little wet to simply sit gracefully on her hair, and so after twenty minutes intead of looking slightly frosted, which she knows is a good look for her, she just looked like a drowned...something. Not the best second impression.

She's never been so incapable of flirting in her life. Her flirting genes (famously passed down from great grandmother to grandmother to mother to her...) failed her miserably last night.

She's pretty sure her grandmother flirts more with the gardner.