Can't Tell Me Nothin

Secret time:

I started smoking again. I'm doing my best to keep that ish on the stealth, but I'm not trying very hard either. I've just been having crazy cravings lately, even though there's no real trigger. If its any consolation, they're cloves. The Djarum Blacks I will always love, which are actually worse for you, but sometimes, I just have to.

Okay, I lied. Twice. Lie #1: (from the post immediately prior to this)I will not discuss sex today. I know I said I would, but I have no real profound thoughts on the subject at the moment. Lie #2: I think I know the trigger to my great American nicotine comeback. I looked at my naked body in the mirror, and decided I am getting too fat for my own good. So its not that I am feeding an addiction per se, but fulfilling a dietary need.

Smoking also keeps the crazy at bay. The crazy is a relatively recent development, and may be at least a partial case of PMS. The anniversary of my first formal dumping was this week. Matt and I are on approximately the same timetable we were on the first time we dated. Almost to the point of deja vu. So I'm anxious like whoa, waiting for that text/im/phone call that ultimately says I'm always wrong about everything ever, and no, I'm not good enough. It's been about 36 hours since I heard from him, and I just keep fearing the worst. Like soap opera coma. Okay, maybe not a coma, but maybe a coma. I can't believe I've turned into one of those girlfriends. In all likelihood, homeslice is just busy. Or tired. Or some combination. Or maybe his phone broke. There are a multitude of reasons that are more likely than the ones in my head. But the scenarios in my head are no less valid.

I would like to smoke now, please and thank you.

maybe I'll try my hand at writing serials. I'm addicted.

I'm going to a donkey show tonight. I'm wearing heels.

Something happens and I'm head over heels.

I bought candles yesterday. My room smells like Pier 1. I like it.

Visiting Chicago was a gas. I met a puppy. Well, Matt's puppy. Her name is Ruby, and all I can think of whenever they call her is the Kaiser Cheifs song. I think they named her after the kaiser Cheifs song. I can't be 100% certain though. She's a sweet thing, and seems to like me. She picks up on my chill vibes, and likes to cuddle. It's kind of funny how dogs can be smart and stupid all at the same time.

I decided I couldn't live with someone I'm dating. I know I will have to get over that shit when I get married, but as it stands right now, I like having my space. Maybe that's why long distance relationships aren't such a big problem for me. I like having an escape hatch. It also makes me appreciate the time I spend with that person so much more, because we're not bickering about actual stupid shit. (not to be confused with kind of stupid shit, like how tall Macaulay Culkin is)

I've never lived in the same city as someone I've dated before. Okay, that's a lie, I did once, and it was a disaster. I was in high school, and the relationship was the byproduct of a blind date. It lasted two weeks, and culminated with my dumping him on the night of his prom. I want to say it was in the limo, in front of White Castle. That may be dramatic embellishment on my part though, even though I can't say for sure. He wouldn't give me my space. But, to be fair to him, I never said give me some space. But to be fair to me, I was 17 and didn't know what I was doing or how to articulate my feelings. So it doesn't count right?

I still want a (more or less) traditional wedding. It hasn't come up lately, so I can't really gauge my progress.

Damn being a girl is hard work.

...it feels good to be a gangster.

Coming soon: more thoughts on sex.

Sing me something soft, sad and delicate

I'm back from Mississippi, and I am proud to say nobody died.

I also got to see Memphis the hard way. On Saturday, we missed our train out of MS, which I had nothing to do with. (I realize it's catty, petty, and childish to say that, but its true.) I blame the fatty, fried and relatively instantaneous food pit stop. As we saw the train pull away, we plan to head it off at the next stop. Three hours, one daylight savings related freakout, one pill, one massive nicotine, several involuntary face twitches on the right side of my face, and one state line later, I am gazing at the lights of downtown Memphis, Tennessee through a train window, sipping a delicious vodka tonic.

I decided I'd like to go back to TN under different circumstances. I'd like to see what Paul Simon saw in Graceland. I want to take in downtown Memphis from outside the car.

In other news, I'm manning the turntables once again. I know it will be a beautiful reunion. I can't hardly wait.

This just in: four months later, we're talking forever.

From him, 2:46 AM: so yeah it'd be ever so lovely to be with you for as long as you'll have me

I can't help but think about sex. Not just in the horny early 20s way, but in the sexual satisfaction psychology sector too. If one were to enjoy being restrained or even knocked around, I'm curious as to what it would implicate about their inner issues, why that would trigger pleasure for them. Part of me has to learn that not everything has a motive. 98% of things do, though. This is why anarchy does not agree with me.

I want to be disinherited from my shyness that is criminally vulgar.

Furthermore, I need to start making peace with the fact that I want to start collecting MA and MFA degrees. I can think of three that I want already, but I have a phobia of the word thesis.