Future: Oh Noes, It's Here! D:

"Time traveling is just too dangerous. Better that I devote myself to study the other great mystery of the universe... women."

Emmett 'Doc' Brown, Back to the Future Part II

I've been thinking about my future a lot lately—not just in a romantic context, but in a more all-encompassing context. I've never thought seriously about what I want to do with my life in terms of employment, but it's becoming readily apparent that I'd best start soon if I want to end up somewhere I can tolerate. When I was a kid, I was the best in my primary school with computers—no one touched me in terms of skill, so I'm like "well, this question's easy: I'ma work with computers and kick everyone's ass and become rich and that's mah plan :D". Then I get to high school, meeting people who can write code, design web pages, and build their own computers; the dream is quickly destroyed. I actually felt pretty shitty about that for a while in Years 7 and 8, believing myself to have lost what I believed was my strongest asset. I never thought about employment again until Year 12, paying no attention whenever they talked about work experience or university or anything of the sort.

Thankfully, I'm not without other talents. My foray into writing is probably the best thing to have happened to me thus far, at least in how it's getting me to think about what I'm gonna do to keep myself not dead. Ever since I got my first laugh—achieved when practicing using posessive pronouns in French class, where my sentence was 'The baby isn't yours' :P —I realised I had abilities I hadn't discovered. My experiences in high school drama class led to me learning how to perform in front of an audience, teaching me how to manipulate my actions and words to evoke a certain response. That, coupled with my love for Sally, gave me something to write about, a narrative thread I could explore through the prism of humour. The result was my first comic monologue (a term I have come to dread; it makes it sound like I'm telling jokes with a stick up my ass :P). Ever since, I've written stand-up on a regular basis—I still write jokes and bits of my own volition.

This led me into taking up Creative Writing as the focus of my study for the next three years at university. Thing is, I'm starting to question this course of action. I mean, first off, there are six mandatory courses, and two of them I have signed up for and skipped in their entirety, determining their content to be irrelevant. I can back this up on a critical level; I'm prepared to fight them on this if that's what it comes down to (if I don't have enough credits to do next year's courses or whatever). But that's not where it ends—lately, I've found myself uninterested in the work I have to do, even for the two courses that actually proved themselves relevant. I have a 1,500 word essay due in a week which I haven't started, and a 500 word story due tomorrow (today at this point, lol) which does not exist either. I have one and a half poems complete out of my planned cycle of four, and a play of at least six pages I need to write on top of that—I don't even have an idea for the play. That's a shitload I need to write in seven days.

I didn't really have this problem last semester with motivation—not with uni—but I don't seem to be pushing myself to do the work anymore. Perhaps it's other factors, but I'm not exactly depressed or anxious about anything else at the moment, not even about my future; I've just come to a few realisations, that's all. Maybe I don't want to write anything except stand-up. I enjoyed learning about poetic techniques and dramatic structures, but nothing of the narrative variety has caught my interest; I don't even read novels, for fuck's sake :P Part of it is definitely my own laziness—I am a procrastinator, always have been—but perhaps other things aren't as they should be either.

For one thing, uni hasn't been the most positive experience for me. I can't tell you how many times I've been in tutorials lately struggling to even pick up what the fuck the tutor or other students are on about, and this is regardless of whether I read the reading material or attended the lecture, nor is it reliant of my understanding of either stimulus. I sit in Text and Context wondering how people know all this crap about the text, how they picked up what they did by reading the same thing I did, where I didn't pick up any of it. I haven't felt intelligent at uni for a long while now, with only a few spots of pride in my achievements every now and then. I mean, I'm not an intellectual—if I was, I'd be teaching 'em, not sitting with 'em :P—but I still feel dumber every time I go, always realising there's this whole area of knowledge I'm down on or completely unaware of. I know I'm a first year, a small fish in a big pond, but no one else seems to have this issue.

Part of the problem is the only real friend I have in uni is real fuckin' smart. He's not the epitome of intellect, but he's certainly smarter than me, and I look up to him. Problem is that makes me feel inferior. It's not as if he deliberately tries to impose his intelligence onto me to make me feel bad; it's just that he's 7 years older than me and has been to uni for years, studying all kinds of different things, so he's naturally more adept than I am. The rest of the people in my tutorials also seem to be more up on things than I am, in terms of their writing ability and just their general knowledge.

Part of this is also me thinking more specifically about what jobs I'm open to. The only place I've worked for is the government, just doing clerical work, data entry, filing, that kind of crap, so I have little to no experience in any other environment. My goal in taking up Creative Writing was to experiment with modes of expression other than stand-up in order to expand my literary horizons, to explore ideas in new ways and in new forms. But, when I dream about the future I want, it's never as an author; it's always as a comedian.

I listen to music on my iPod and go "That'd be a really good song to walk on-stage to :)". I watch George Carlin being interviewed by James Lipton on Inside the Actor's Studio and vision taking Carlin's place, being asked the same questions—sometimes I even do it out loud and practice my answers, even making up questions I'd like to be asked. I watch Bill Hicks and become so filled with energy at the sight of his honesty that I get out of my seat and pace around, a monologue running through my head; it makes me want to piss people off with a truth they can no longer deny, whatever that truth may be. I think about Lenny Bruce and the impact he had on the freedom of expression in the United States, and want to make similar progress in my own way. I watch The Chaser do their shows on TV and want to be part of their group, or at least follow in their footsteps and continue the trend of controversial televised satire they established in this country. I watch episode upon episode of Whose Line just wishing I had the ability to think on my feet like those guys do, wanting to practise improv myself, start up a troupe or something, and achieve the same success they did on TV. Those are the people I look up to, and I do so without intent; they're who I want to be, and I can't change that.

The first thing I wrote, as I mentioned earlier, was about Sally, and the entire plot revolved around my fear of confronting her and asking her out. What's ridiculous is that I seem to keep wanting to rewrite that plot into every conceivable form, having to force myself to not rehash that idea and come up with new ones when I want to write poetry, theatre, or prose. Oftentimes, I do get new, original ideas, quite a few of which I've explored in this Creative Writing course, but I've found myself beating the same dead horse from time to time with these forms I'm still experimenting with.

Stand-up, on the other hand, is just so open for me. Just looking at the list of bits I currently have, there are fourty tabs in my Segments folder in OneNote, each on a different subject, amounting to at least thirty pages of material, probably more. Some of these bits are only a paragraph in length, some a few pages long, but the point is there's clear variety. And that's not counting the uncategorised shit I have in another tab: about twenty-five pages worth of random comic fodder sits there, some one-liners, along with some paragraphs that may fit better in their own Segment tab. And all of that was written in my own time, for my own sake, most of it remaining unperformed, yet the will to write it still within me. This is evidently what I want to do. Perhaps I'm daunted by uni at the moment and these writing prospects are still working their way into me—and some parts of the course I've thoroughly enjoyed and learned from—but the comedian within me will never die, and he wants to come out and play.

I've been thinking about what I want in terms of a relationship too. I've heard frequently of late that people are attracted to people who 'know what they want in a relationship', and this got me thinking of what I look for in a relationship. Do I really have standards, or a list of prerequisites? I've only ever really taken a look at a girl and went 'Hmmm, you look nice :)', then learned more about them and gone 'You're good on the inside too—I'm gonna like you now, but never ever talk to you cos that's scaryful :('.

See? I always have to make a fuckin' joke like that when I talk about girls :P

I think this is a good start right here:

But, when you get right down to it, the staple of the relationship is communication: talking and sharing things with one another. I miss having that special someone I could always talk to. I remember on my first date, after the movie had finished, taking my then-girlfriend outside the theatre and just talking. Well, I was talking, she was just laughing. I miss being able to make someone that happy, seeing a girl so vibrant and full of life simply because of what I was saying. And making her feel better when her brother kept calling her a hippo. And the whole cutesy syntax we always spoke to each other in. It was so special to me.

'Desire: Need Moar Persistence', published 22/8/2012

I evidently want someone who I can talk to about anything, feel comfortable opening up to, and be happy with. I think that's the most important thing: for one's presence and actions to make the other one happy, to ensure mutual gain in all aspects of life through experiencing life together as a unit (you know, if you want it to sound fuckin' lame :P). My ex and I talked about all sorts of stuff, and we enjoyed each other's company, so that's a staple. I think intellect is also important; if you don't have an active mind, wishing to remain wilfully ignorant, I probably wouldn't want to hang around you for very long anyway (this is the same guy who called himself 'dumb' a few paragraphs ago—consistency is for chumps :P). She'd also have to accept me for who I am, only encouraging me to change if there's actually a genuine problem to be fixed rather than just some silly thing she's uncomfortable with for no good reason.

I could describe what I like in a girl's body, but really, once I get to know who she is, her body becomes beautiful regardless of its physical nature because it represents what I love about her on the inside, so its practically irrelevant. If she's really out of shape or unclean, however, I'd probably avoid her. The physical can be important when drawing me in, but that phase can be skipped in the girl's personality really clicks with me (and I have an opportunity to talk to them that's not instigated by my own attraction to their body, lol).

I can name a few extras—I'd rather she didn't smoke, I'd rather she liked video games and/or computers, I'd rather she was willing to explore various sexual avenues, etc.—but there's no real point. Everything else about them is moot because I can't be any more accurate than what's written in the two paragraphs above. I just analyse women as they come along, and I don't really know any at the moment that I like the look or sound of, so I'll just have to wait until I meet one that does.

It's 4 am. Fuck that assignment; I need sleep. Story can come tomorrow. I have an idea, so that's the hard part over.

Conclusions: It's Time to Draw Them

Too bad I suck at drawing :(

Anyway, this girl at uni, asking her out, it's just not happenin'. The attraction isn't going anywhere. I've gotta stop thinking I'm ever gonna talk to her, because I'm not. She wasn't a focus on my recent week off uni; not once did I really stop to think about her. If she can't even hold my thought for a week, there's nothing there, goddamnit :P

I've come to realise that it's not completely my fear that's preventing me from talking to her; it's also her personality. There are still things I like about her, namely our obvious shared interest in writing, the intellect she's demonstrated over the past few months (very apparent as of late), as well as her body; but the smartarse in her is really turning me off. Like, in a lecture yesterday, the lecturer did the old I'm gonna ask you what the answer to the last question was to check if you were really listening routine, and she answered him without skipping a beat—and she had been talking while the lecturer was. That's a level of confidence I can't affront, no fucking way. She just isn't approachable, not in any light. If I ask her out, or even try to talk to her, I'll get nothing but a verbal backhand and a frowny face.

What's really happening, as I've come to realise over the past few weeks, is I just want to be with somebody—she just happens to be the somebody I picked to think about, to fill that void in my head so I could think about somebody. I think the attraction was genuine to start with—I mean, she is very pretty, and the aspects of her personality I spoke of earlier were ones I was genuinely attracted to, but her attitude was an issue for me from the beginning:

"Her default face is kind of like my default face: it leans more towards 'apathetic' than 'content' or even 'neutral'. She seems a little apathetic overall, which turns me off a little..."

'Questions: Should I Be Asking Them?', published 22/5/12

That's been in the back of my mind every time I've contemplated talking to her or asking her out, and it's managed to play a larger role than I originally thought in alienating her from me.

I still think she's pretty—her physical beauty is what kept me thinking about her in the first place. Her skin tone is such a perfect shade of white—it's fucking incredible to look at. She wore a sleeveless top today; I couldn't stop looking at her arms. They were oddly mesmerising. Forget her tits or her pussy—I'm fine looking at her ligaments for the meantime :P And her hair is a really nice shade of orange, just the right spot on the spectrum, nor is it too bright or too dull. Her eyes are stunning; they draw you right in (though the make-up might be doing a bit of work there). And her lips are luscious, a size I haven't seen before, not to mention the colour. Her small build compliments the face really well—I seem prefer petit redheads, where as with other hair colours, the build doesn't seem to matter as much.

That said, I kept picturing us together, but with only her body intact. I changed her personality to remove this 'I don't give a fuck' attitude, simply making her love me and want to be with me—this wasn't just because I want a girl to love me and long to be with me, but to replace those aspects of her attitude I didn't like, ultimately changing the way I thought about her. Think the same thing for long enough and you'll eventually convince yourself it's true, if you're not careful. I can't overlook it anymore, so I have to call it quits. I don't even wanna pursue her just to hook up, even if I thought she might agree to it, because the physical appeal isn't really sexual. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind fucking her were I more open to the idea of casual sex (I'm not losing virginity with a woman who isn't my girlfriend), but I honestly just like thinking about cuddling her and kissing her and making love, just romantic kind of stuff, not so much just fucking her brains out.

I'll probably still think about her, fantasise about her and stuff, but I see no problem with that—she's fucking beautiful, as is making love to her in my head :P That said, however, I think I should just take things as they come with girls, just take opportunities wherever and whoever they come up with rather than focusing on one random chick :P There are still a few smart, attractive girls in my writing class, and plenty more just walking around the rest of the uni. I'm not waiting for, nor expecting, girls to just come walking up to me and thinking I'm top shit (cos I'm kinda not :P), but unless I see (and get to know) a girl who simply blows me away with every aspect of her personality, there's no point in me narrowing my focus just yet.

...now to go against everything I've said and pick some other girl in my writing class to ogle >.>

Fear: Not to be Confused with Reason

I've started to realise that I'm using logic to fuck myself out of doing stuff I wanna do, stuff that, using different logic, can be easily justified. It's ridiculous. Like, I was thinking about how hesitant I am to initiate conversations, and this came to mind when I was being driven home by a friend of mine. Another friend was in the car with me, and they're chatting away about something or other. They were talking about drinking before talking about clubbing, so, as someone who doesn't drink it up nor party it down, I don't have anything to say on the matter. Once he gets to where he's got to go, it's just the driver and I. Now, in my eyes, what's happened is clear: my other friend took the conversation with him when he got out of the car, leaving me with nothing. Any normal person, however, knows this situation is easily remedied: just talk. Just fucking talk! The first thing that pops into your head (which passes the self-censorship board, of course :P), just say it. Simply think of a random question, ask it, and go with the flow.

This process is automatic and instantaneous for most—I am not most, so for me, the process is more like this:

"What should I ask? Well, I can't ask her how her day was; I've been with her for part of the day, making that a stupid question. I can't relate to what they were talking about before... um... politics? Religion? Nah, not related to any recent verbal exchange, too left field... what she's been up to in the past week? Too personal, seems obsessive..."

...so I end up not talking at all. Looking back, the best idea by far was to ask about her week—obsessive? The fuck am I talking about? If someone asked how my week was, I'd be over the moon due to the mere presence of care in someone else about anything I do ever. And the best thing? Not only could she talk about her week, but I could talk about my week, allowing myself to recount details of what was probably the most social week of my entire life! That's not invasive; that's socialising. So much fail :P

This train of logic is just a cover-up for the real reasoning—I don't wanna say something dumb and embarrassing, so I find a way to make this seem way riskier than it actually is so I can feel justified in avoiding contact. The thing I hate most about this is how it seems to never not work :P Like, let's say I'm in a larger social setting, lots of people I don't know hanging around. I'm sitting with friends, engaged in conversation, comfortable, having a good time. Now, let's put a girl within visible range, but out of verbal reach—it's a bit too loud for me to grab her attention without walking over to where she is. She passes the physical examination quickly, and she is alone; I keep an eye on her for ten to fifteen minutes and no one of any description has approached her. This in mind, I'm obviously not obliged to stay with my friends. Shit, let's even say I somehow feel it appropriate to point this girl out to my friends and mention that I like the look of her and want to go over and talk to her or something (this alone is unlikely, give the almost certain 'logical' defence of "Your friends don't give a fuck who you are attracted to; keep that shit to yourself").

It is at this point that logic would step in to 'avert disaster':

"What do you want to do, exactly?"

"I wanna talk to that girl over there."

"But aren't you talking with your friends?"

"They're not gonna give a shit if I leave; they even said I should do it."

"They seem to forget basic morality: it's not right to talk to people you don't know. You don't walk up to strangers on the street and talk to them, do you? No. You know why? Because you know it's not right!"

"This is a social setting, dude, it's fine."

"No it isn't—you assume she is simply there for you to approach and talk to. What if she's waiting for someone?"

"No one's talked to her the whole time I've been looking at her."

"Well, maybe she wants to be alone! If she wanted to talk to someone, surely she'd go find someone to talk to. Are you assuming she's too weak to make that decision on her own? That's rather judgemental of you. Who are you to interfere with her solitude?"

"Maybe she'd like someone to talk to her; I honestly don't think she'd mind."

"Well then, what shall you say to this woman? 'Hi, I'm Liam and I don't eat properly! Wanna go out?'

"...well no——"

"No? Not gonna tell her up front? She has to find out eventually. Ooh, I know—how about 'Hi, I'm Liam. Can I wrap my arms around you and cuddle you?' Because that worked so well last time."

"I didn't really see any point in planning further than saying 'Hi' and then mentioning seeing her alone, thinking she might wanna talk to someone rather than sitting around alone, that kind of thing."

"'That kind of thing'? Since when did you do improv, boy? You can't even think of what to say when you're in a car with someone you know, and you think you can pull off some spur-of-the-moment sweet talk? And isn't she going to be a little suspicious that some borderline anorexic male walks up to her and starts chatting her up? She'll pick you for the sleaze you are rather quickly, I guarantee you."

"...you're a cunt. Seriously. You are a huge cunt."

"The cunt keeping you out of trouble. Stay with your friends—they accept your retarded self. That girl? She will not."

I'll look at her the whole evening, wishing I had the balls but never actually getting them.

What's strange is I hear about guys who proposition girls without even breaking a sweat—like, they go right up to 'em and just ask for what they want, without mincing the oath in any way, shape, or form. These guys who ask chicks for their numbers right off the bat, or if they wanna make out, or if they wanna fuck—how the hell do they pull that off? Is there not some part of them that's like "Hold up! Maybe she'd like to get to know you first!" This is one area where logic and I can agree: that's too fast for me. I'm not quite so impatient. I am never going to be able to justify asking for a hook up, not with this repugnant body :P But I don't even wanna go that far; I just wanna chat and get to know them first, but I can't even bring myself to do that, even when I think it's the right thing to do considering the more hasty alternatives!

Shit, I even managed to ask girls out back when I was in high school—I used to do that. I used to take action. I used to talk to them, or at least try. I used to actually make progress and work towards asking them out; now I'm struggling to even get to know them at all. Problem is, all three of the girls I've wanted to ask out were girls I went to high school with (hence seeing them all the time, making it a lot easier to get to know them), and girls I loved (giving me the incentive to do all this stuff). Those luxuries are gone now—without getting to know them, love is impossible, and without the motivation love would otherwise give me, I need to find a new reason that will push me onto the field and into action.

...why can't I just use sex to do that like all the other guys... stupid fucking morality, always holding me back >.<

Memories: :(

I think about my past a lot, and it doesn't take much to bring something up in my head that I don't want to be there. The year below me in high school just had their Formal, so when I saw the Formal pictures of some of my younger Facebook friends on my news feed, I instantly felt sick—not sick at the sight of them, but sick at the internal sight of my own Formal, which I've talked about more than enough times and don't feel like rehashing.

That's half the problem here: that it still bugs me. It doesn't matter how many months go by; it's always there, lingering in the back of my mind, unwilling to die, insisting its continued importance as a part of my life which is well and truly over. As per usual, I distract myself with YouTube, stand-up comedians, current events, but it only ever masks the pain. It's starting to get really annoying.

What's worse is that I continue to indulge myself in fantasy. Every time this happens, I'm almost guaranteed to dream about an alternate history in which everything goes my way—I get exactly what I want and I'm successful in any and all attempts to do whatever I do. I couldn't tell you how many times I've pictured Sally sitting at that campfire, hanging her head and feeling blue, right before I start talking to her. I ask her what's wrong and, though reluctant at first, she starts to explain. I manage to comfort her verbally and eventually physically, almost always ending up behind her, arms wrapped around her to keep her warm (even though we're... sitting in different... chairs... it's a dream—it doesn't have to make sense :P). Sometimes we end up making love, sometimes we just sit there together—either way, she's happy. Sometimes I go back even further, pretending that my ex and I never split, allowing me to visualise us going to the Formal together. We end up ditching the after-party and going somewhere alone, sometimes to an overlook, sometimes back to her place. In all honesty, if we had gone together, we'd have ended up in front of a computer by the end of the night watching YouTube or playing games or something, but that's not the most romantic thing I can think about, is it :P It's not a sexual ritual, or even that arousing in nature, nor is it a sign of 'never-ending, unrequited love'; it's nothing more than an emotional escape mechanism.

With Sally, I seem to want to be some kind of hero, some smooth talker who still means what he says. I still want to fix something that cannot and will not be fixed; I can't change the past. When I realise I can't change the past, I remember that I can change the future—then I think about how I can rectify this problem through interacting with Sally in the future :P  If I'm given a scenario-to-be, I'll immediately conjure up my ideal experience and make it the benchmark. If I don't think about changing the Formal & after-party itself, I'm like "school reunion school reunion just wait till school reunion then you can talk to her and make her smiley face and stuff and it'll be k :)". Yeah, then if and when such an event does come around, I'll be scared shitless of the mere thought that she might see me and that I'll say or do something stupid. It just never fucking ends.

And, let's face it: me expecting to feel comfortable around almost anyone at my school reunion, with their... careers, and... qualifications... relationships... taking life by the horns... mature jerks >.<

Even upon checking Facebook the morning of their Formal, I saw notifications about Year 12 students being at my uni, where their graduation takes place. I knew nothing of that before I checked Facebook, but I quickly remembered that my high school puts their graduation and Formal on the same day, which led to the initial feeling of sickness. Not long after, that little, retarded part of my brain spoke its wisdom by going "hey maybe if you get there quick enough you can catch them on your way out and you can bump into the ones you know and mention their after-party and they can be all like 'hey wouldn't it be awesome if you came and told jokes at it? you should totes come along' and then you can go and not worry about getting laid and enjoy it and it'll all be k :)". I'm dead serious: that went through my head, and a small part of me hoped for it to actually happen. Derp.

Thing is, that inner retard is the same voice that goes "hey you should talk to that girl over there and maybe she'll like you back and you can go on a date and talk to her and make her laugh and stuff and then you'll get to kiss her and touch her and see her naked and it'll all be k :)". Might wanna loosen up on him every once in a while... I guess :P

Flip-Flopping: That Thing I Do All the Time

I went back to uni last week. Missed a lecture or two, but still went to the tutorials. It was good to see my friend again—we have more and more fun together each week, laughter becoming far more common. I also got an assignment back, a writing assignment. I had to create a collection of small experiments implementing different poetic, theatrical and narrative devices—for example, using visceral, grotesque language, or using a certain question-answer structure in dialogue, stuff like that. They could be anywhere from a sentence long to a few pages, so long as there were at least six pages in total, with a maximum of ten pages permitted. I submitted seven pages and got 68%. Not really surprised. I would have been shocked had I gotten anything over 70%. Just didn't put the work in; no one to blame but myself. I'm not super disappointed with the mark, but I know I can do a lot better.

The only thing that pisses me off is that, instead of written feedback, the tutor has simply ticked the fragments he likes, along with ticking individual lines he found notable. I had two fragments with no ticks at all—but what's wrong with them? Fine, they're shit, but why are they shit? I'm sure there's a reason; I just need to know that reasoning so I can develop as a writer. Ticking the fragments he thought to be good is the same as liking Facebook statuses: it tells me nothing except 'Oh, someone liked this.' Fucking useless :P

And, of course, I saw the girl I like at again (I need a pseudonym... I'll get back to you). It's weird: I don't see her for two weeks, and, along with wanting to talk to this random checkout chick at the supermarket, I post this:

"...that feeling [of love] has [not] shown itself with the girl at uni; I'm starting to doubt it again."

Then, I walk into class on Friday, see her, and think:

"no no no i take it back, i take it back, i wanna talk to this one, this one this one this one :D"

...yeah :P Nothing too complicated here: I'm just getting impatient. Desperation is starting to rear its ugly head, and while that may push me to do something that might actually lead to some progress (a dirty word in my world), it could also lead to me doing something dumb, like overthinking this even more than I already have.

I did get an idea though—don't laugh, I'm serious >.< Anyway, my writing class buddy got 85% on his assignment, which isn't surprising given how talented he is. Anyway, because I got to class late, I didn't see the original distribution of assignments. Each assignment had a yellow post-it note with our mark on it; so my friend had his 85% out in the open for all to see as it was handed along the table to the back. 85% also happens to be the minimum requirement for a High Distinction, the highest classification of mark you can get as far as assignments are concerned, so the tutor wrote "HD" and "A++++" on the post-it as well. After class, my friend told me about how the girl I like saw the assignment and went "Ooohhh, 85!" or something to that effect.

Now, my friend doesn't know about this whole infatuation debacle (because I see this as a "thing" even though it really isn't, so I keep this to myself in the real world :P), so he had no real incentive to tell me that; it must have been genuinely funny or otherwise noteworthy. That means she's impressed by high marks, by an assessment that demonstrates quality in one's ability to write. So, maybe if I get a mark of 85% or higher on my next assignment, and she sees it, perhaps it'll impress her—maybe not a lot, but at least a little. That might give me the confidence boost (in terms of my own view of myself as well as her view of me) I need to get something going here :) 85 is a big step up from 68, but if this girl gives me the motivation to get that mark, so be it. It's a utilitarian marking system—they don't give a fuck how I get the grade, so long as I attain it on my own merits.

I guess it could just be the two weeks I had without seeing her, but it was hard not to look at her that afternoon—I had to indulge myself in quite a few glances on Friday. She gets more beautiful every time I walk into that room. I start wanting to write things about her just because she is there. I want to write things to read out loud in class to drop the hint, just to push the line and see what happens. Her flaws are becoming less and less important. I want to have her between my arms and snuggle her tight, poke my head around from behind, glance into her eyes (which pop right out of her head), and kiss her. I want to see her laugh and smile because it makes me so happy when she does :)  I don't even give a fuck how cliché or lovey-dovey it sounds.

As for the girl at the supermarket, I saw her the Tuesday before. Didn't say anything (she didn't even ask me how I am... what kind of employee conduct is that >.<), but I did catch her name. There was only one person with that name who looked even remotely like her on Facebook—she's friends with a Christian friend of mine, and she appears to be a musician. I don't see much potential in dating a religious muso :P I'm sure she's a nice girl, and the conclusions I've jumped to here could obviously be dead wrong seeing as I'm going off so little, but the outlook is pretty negative right from the get go in terms of common ground. The girl at uni, on the other hand, is a writer, and a smart one too; she's pulling me a lot more.

...if anyone has a gun, you are welcome to put it to the back of my head, escort me to this girl's house, and force me to ask her out... I won't tell on you >.>

EDIT: I just realised that plan won't work because we hand this assignment in at the end of term and she will never see my mark. Fuckity fuck >.<

Sociologicalism: trololol I Just Wanted to Invent a Word :D

And I did so yay ^_^

My life is so out of whack right now. Wednesday was just fucking weird. The night before, I went to sleep at around 3 am, waking around 9 and getting up at 9:15, skipping a lecture I would usually not skip (even given its presence in the morning). The day after that was no less of a bludge than usual, but I'd somehow managed to stay awake on only 500mL of iced coffee and a bag of Doritos (dat breakfast :P). I went out last night to see a movie with a friend, catching up with another friend in the process. I get home at 11, mess around on the computer for half an hour or so, then go to bed. I decide to masturbate, just to be sure I have a good sleep—for some reason, however, this doesn't seem to work as well as it used to. A good wank used to knock me right the fuck out, whether it be through fantasy or pornography—I wouldn't even have enough energy to pull my pants back up. Last night, as has happened many other times recently, I climaxed, had a good release, then closed my eyes and tried to sleep... but failed to actually fall asleep :P One of two things seems to happens now: either I fall asleep for one or two hours, then wake up at some ridiculous time in the morning, or I close my eyes but just end up lying there with my eyes closed rather than actually sleeping. Either way, I end up falling asleep at some totally unreasonable hour. It sucks :( I don't even know which one it was last night, but the workout didn't leave me as exhausted as I wanted it to. Am I doing something wrong? It's not like it feels any less good to come, nor is it taking any less time or effort than usual. Is it... broken? Oh noes D:

Interestingly, at around 5:30 yesterday, a friend says she's going to see two movies at uni and asks if anyone else wants to come along. I'm like ":O it's that thing where you go somewhere that's not your house! :D" Might not be the most exciting shit to do, but it's an opportunity nonetheless, so off I go. Once I get there, I meet up with one of my other friends in the library, and he immediately feels the need to bring my social awkwardness up:

"I would introduce you to my friends, but you know..."

"Yeah, I won't say anything; I'll just stand there like a retard."

"Yup xD"

I would be insulted but the dude is right :P

We talk a little, but for some reason, my mind just isn't in the right place. I'm not preoccupied thinking about an assignment or a girl or a game or anything else; I'm just not thinking positive at this point. Maybe it's because of what my friend said—I don't really know nor care, but it's still bothering me that I'm feeling really awkward around someone I've known and been friends with for this long. We're talking sure, but I'm finding it hard to think of something to say in reply to his dilemmas in studying Commerce. Sure, I go to uni too, but I'm a Creative Writing student. We have no exams, so we have nothing to really 'study' in the conventional sense. The course structure is so different that I can't relate to what he's talking about. I understand what he's talking about—I went through high school and did exams just like everyone else—but I'm so far from that world now, it's hard to relate in this environment. We're still talking though; there is still a conversation, my responses are just slow and not really interesting or well thought out.

Then the friend I'm going with shows up. She sits down and they start chatting about their upcoming midterms (they share a class or two from what my awful memory can gather). Meanwhile, I'm just sitting there listening, hoping for a good moment to interject, but nothing really comes up that I can join in on. Eventually, she actually asks me directly how uni is, and I can't come up with much more than "Yeah, it's OK. I get here, I go to class, I go home". Only when you say it out loud do you realise how sad it is :P I even said after my quietness was brought up that I just wasn't thinking straight.

Eventually, we get to the cinema. It's just the two of us, kind of strange seeing as I liked the girl just under a year ago (or loved? Oh crap, now I have to start considering actual use of that word... love, you're still a prick around here, just so you're aware >.<). It's like what I originally wanted to do with her but not really but kinda, you know? To be honest, there was no awkwardness for me once we actually got in the theatre, which was good—just two friends seeing two movies :)

Behind the scenes, however, my subconscious was verbally instructing me on how to behave during the course of the first film:

"I know you're gonna fuck this up if I'm not here so I'm staying with you the whole time. Now, you know how when you're with other friends, you crack jokes under your breath all the way through? Don't do that."

"but but——"

"I don't care how funny you think you are—keep your fucking mouth shut."

"...k :( "

The first movie was actually way better than I thought it'd be. A film about four Aboriginal girls who want to be music stars being offered a trip to Vietnam during the eponymous war sounds like one's typical "Racism is bad, sexism is bad, war is bad >:( " hippie-bullshit flick. But it was really enjoyable with a lot of funny moments, making up for the somewhat predictable plot.

Towards of the end of the film, the group is performing for troops at a USO show type dealie. The manager of the group is with them at the performance. As you'd expect, the Viet Cong launch an aerial assault and blow the place to shit. The four girls escape alive on helicopters, but the manager is struck by a bullet while he scrambles through the crowd; this is seen from the girls' point of view as they're ascending in the helicopter. The moment he's struck by the bullet, my friend puts her hands over her mouth (it was a pretty sudden strike, as is usually the case with ballistic trauma :P).

Thirty seconds later:

"...maybe I should hold her hand..."

"I beg your pardon?"

"she got kinda freaked out there, maybe I should hold her hand——"

"What the hell are you talking about? Do you think this is some kind of romantic outing? Keep your hands to yourself."

"but but maybe it'll show i'm confident and assertive and stuff——"

"All that's going to demonstrate is that you can't remember that she isn't interested in you. Stop being ridiculous. She isn't even frightened—she was just startled because it was so sudden. That isn't a hint for you to get all touchy-feely, you fucking nimrod. It's a comedy, not a horror film. And it happened thirty seconds—no, sixty seconds ago! Even if this was a date, you would've been too fucking slow to react anyhow."

"...stfu >.<"

"No, you shut the fuck up! See how her hands are back in her lap? You wanna risk that move, boy? You see a cute moment; I see a goddamned lawsuit, as well as a smack upside the head. And what were you gonna do if she hadn't put her hands down yet? Pull her hand away while she's still covering her mouth and wrap your own hand around hers? The fuck kind of move is that? Just watch the movie. That is what you are here for: to watch a movie. Jesus Christ, seriously, the shit I have to put up with..."

Lots of derpy things go through my head :P Thankfully, the intermission allowed for some actual proper conversation—obviously, we had the movie to talk about, then it moved on to other stuff. I was honestly just happy to be engaged in conversation of some form that wasn't awkward, forced, or depressing. For me, that's miraculous—epic win :D

The second movie was good in its own way. When one hears of a film with a plot that outlines the development of the first vibrator, images of an American sex comedy to mind, but this one was set in late-19th-century England—somewhat successful at the very least. Complexity wasn't to be found in this plot; it was only there to give the double entendre and pantomimed orgasms an excuse to be there. I liked the first movie more, but it was still worth seeing both (and for five bucks, it was a fuckin' steal).

On the way back to her car, I had more trouble finding stuff to talk about, but I think we ended up talking about uni and some other crap, carrying through until we arrived at my house.

The whole thing just got me thinking about the extent to which I fail in social situations, even with people in my own friend group. You get me in a large enough group of people I know and I hold nothing back. You get me in a one on one and I have no goddamned idea what I'm doing. I guess I'm always looking at this from the perspective of a comedian: the more people there are, the more chance there is for laughter, through more people being present and through laughter being infectious at times. You know you're socially awkward when you see every conversation as a fucking stand-up performance with audience participation... and the audience participates more than you do :P

It also got me thinking about how little I have to talk about when in social situations, but a lot of what people talk about stems from their involvement in other social situations, a "chicken or the egg?" type situation which sucks all kinds of balls. I guess my friend here and I don't have too much in common, just enough to have a short conversation. I should probably speak to her more often on Facebook like I did when I liked her—I have friends with less in common than what is here, but we can have an interesting, free-flowing conversation simply because we're good friends and know each other really well.

Then those people fuck off to Queensland and Sydney and return only on occasion.

I'm just that bad a person to be around :P

Love: ???

love/lʌv/n. profound and caring attraction towards someone.

Not sure why the dude didn't just look it up in the dictionary.

I've been playing through The Ballad of Gay Tony again, and seeing as the plot revolves around the poor financial situation of a nightclub manager, the game has its share of club music (some of which I actually like, despite my usual disdain). Quite a few of the tracks mention love, which got me thinking about Haddaway's question.

Calling it 'Haddaway's question' makes it sound more official than it should be, like it's up there with the Monty Hall problem and the Ken Burns effect. Hmmm...

Anyway, it did get me thinking about love, what it means to me and other people, that kind of thing. The songs I mention speak of love like it's nothing, as if you fall in love with someone every time you hit the fucking dance floor. That's retarded. But these are pop songs—I can't expect any linguistic merit.

Personally, the mention of 'love' is of a far greater danger than that of 'shit', 'fuck' or 'cunt' ever will be. As a matter of fact, 'love' is by far my least employed common four letter word, at least when you compare it to how often other people use it. I don't use it unless I mean it, and that ain't often. Romantically, I don't know if I've ever really 'loved' someone. I've been very strongly attracted to girls before, sure, but is that love? Could be, I guess. The only love I can really confirm, if any, is that for my girlfriend when we were going out. I definitely loved her, more than anything. The shit I went through when we split assures me of that—I wouldn't have been so down for so long had I not lost that which I loved. But did I love her before we started dating? I definitely had serious, heartfelt feelings when the relationship started, but they got stronger when we started going out. Did it cross over the threshold at that point? Or had it already done so? I dunno. Perhaps that growth in feelings was the difference between loving her and being in love with her. To be honest, I never thought about it that way; I just fucking wanted to be with her more than anything else in the world; I wasn't caught up in a clusterfuck of semantics. Having said that, though, I regret never telling her I loved her. I can't remember ever telling her. That's kinda lame :P The one time I'm damn sure I'm in love and I fail to mention it verbally. Oh well, next time.

That's the thing for me: it's how we talk about love. I guess having written the paragraph above, I can come to the conclusion that for me, personally, romantic love is having what I would otherwise call 'serious' or 'heartfelt' attraction to a girl. Thing is, even though I've had that feeling before, several times, I have never felt it appropriate to go up to the girl in question and tell her I love her. To me, it just seems like a lot to dump on someone if I get across that I ain't kiddin', that I love this woman, especially if they don't love me back (which I've always felt to be more likely than not :P). It just seems a little intense. If I was going to ask a girl on a date, the word 'love' would not turn up in the final draft of the written proposal I'd be using to rehearse :P If I got the impression the feelings were reciprocated, perhaps I would mention it, but that's unlikely. I'm horrible at admitting my feelings for girls, whether it be through asking them out or just telling them how I feel, so I'd be playing it as safe as possible if I ever did convince myself to go ahead with it.

It's not just telling them directly either; expression in other areas can also be a problem. Not only would I be keeping this information away from the woman in question, I'd also be sure as fuck not to tell anyone else I loved her either. I'd probably tell a few of my friends if I liked a girl, if I had a crush on her or something, but like hell would I be telling anyone I loved her. Think of how differently you'd react if you were told someone liked you or if you were told someone loved you—no matter what your definition of 'like' and 'love' is in this context, 'love' is almost certainly stronger than 'like', so it'd have a lot more impact. In writing, however, I'd probably be inclined to go the other way and express my love as strongly as possible. The girl I kinda like at uni at the moment (my feelings for her are all over the place, definitely not love :P) writes what seem to be love poems, or at least poetry that deals with how the subject feels for someone. It's beautiful to listen to. I wish I loved someone so much that I had to pour my heart and soul into a written work.

That's my biggest gripe with my life at the moment: I'm nowhere near love at the moment. I really want to feel for someone like that again—it's been nearly a year now and I miss it so fucking much. I want that urge for someone that never goes away, that's so strong nothing can kill it, so powerful it makes me do crazy shit. It's the most vibrant thing—with it, I wake up everyday feeling like nothing can stop me. I want to progress towards it and have it again. Knowing that I'll only have such feelings for a girl if I know about their personality, the only way to get anywhere here is to meet and chat with girls, so this all stems from me not getting out much. Infatuation can give a similar, less powerful feeling, but only for one or two weeks, and not even that feeling has shown itself with the girl at uni, so I'm starting to doubt that again.

Most of all, though, I want a girl to love me. I think that if a girl loved me, I'd probably love them back just knowing that—it'd be so incredible to hear such a thing that I'd be taken aback by the very truth of it. While I know I loved my ex, I don't know if she loved me. I know she at least liked me enough to date me, and I think her feelings for me were genuine, certainly; but I don't know if what she felt for me fit her definition of romantic love, whatever that might be. Just like I never said it to her, she never said it to me either. She wasn't one to be too vocal with emotional stuff, but it'd be interesting to know how she truly felt (I say this having heard from a friend of mine that she only said yes when I asked her out because she didn't want to turn me down, but at the same time, she seemed genuinely happy to be with me, especially in the initial stages, so I don't know what to make of that—I'd kill for clarification, but I know that ain't comin' :P).

Can't wait to go back to that goddamned supermarket... hopefully the fact that this random checkout chick has been on my mind for two weeks will be worth it :)