Questions: Should I Be Asking Them?

Tuesday again—my favourite day of the week by far. I had an editing exam which I thought I'd go well in, but I could have gone a lot better. That took my confidence down more than a notch, but I'm certain that I passed, so I'm not too worried. Besides, the tutorial's where the fun's at... somewhat.

The start was simply epic. Earlier in the session, we had to submit pieces of prose to be edited by the class in a workshop kind of fashion—mine was first up. Being a comedian, I obviously submitted something I thought would get lulz, and I've wanted to know all term how it goes with regards to evoking said lulz. I had two distinct images in my head:

1. People begin to read, and as the reading goes on, laughter is scattered across the room, people giggle every now and then.
2. People begin to read, and they read in dead silence, not a noise is heard, not a smirk is seen.

Thankfully, I got the first one: many lulz were had ^_^  I haven't had that feeling of comic success for so long that I began to shake. I love that feeling. Some people wanted to see it performed, saying it'd work well on stage (its initial form), so I now have five minutes of material I know works. That's valuable—if I ever perform this, I know I'll succeed to at least some degree, making it good for a comedy competition or some other performance scenario where experimentation is dangerous and could lead to utter failure.

As for that girl who sits across the room goes... not so good.

I wanted to see how much she was laughing (if at all), but didn't glance over, nor did I get too much feedback from her—not a good sign. She wasn't smiling much today either. That's the most beautiful thing any woman can do: be happy and show it. I know people aren't happy all the time, but she was happier last week, at least a little bit. I wanted to see her smile so bad, but I never did. I guess I could be looking at that in relation to my piece, thinking that it failed to make her smile, but I don't know if that's true or not. I just want to see her smile, to see her happy.

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—my previous girlfriend's apathy was part of what led to her shitty handling of the break-up. I know she can be interested in things; I've seen it. When she's interested, she gets involved, she gets excited—perhaps she's bi-polar? I know I am :P

I'm having second thoughts. I guess it's better to have those now than anywhere else down the track, but seeing her cheered me up heaps last week—what happened? Is it that I want to make her happy myself, or just that I want her to be happy? What does that even mean? Am I faking concern just to prolong some pseudo-attraction, or am I genuinely unhappy because I didn't see her smile? I know seeing her smile makes me happy, that's definitely true... is the inverse true? Is that a prerequisite for attraction? I mean, today, her legs were exposed, her attire differing from the usual long pants or stockings she wears—to me, that's fucking awesome on a physical level, but in my mind, the lack of smile takes precedent. Is that a sign of something more? I don't know.

I have one more week where I'm guaranteed to see her, then a super-long break (seven weeks... holy crap :P). I highly doubt I'm gonna talk to her next week, so I suppose I'll just have to wait and see how I feel after the break.

Well, if I'm still going to uni... which I might not be, if I absolutely fail... ah well, there's always stalking :P

Cool: That Which I Am Not

At least I know that even motherfuckers as legendary as Pryor had problems similar to mine :P

I'm getting a little worried... I've only just come to the realisation that there are only two weeks left in the semester. After that, all my classes change (provided I'm not kicked out or something :P). My classes change, my classmates change. To put it bluntly, I only have two weeks left where I have any solid chance of seeing her in class again. I know we do the same course and hence will definitely share lectures, but tutorials are far smaller and my chances of scoring one with her aren't in my favour—besides, I can't hear her voice or see her smile in lectures, at least not without giving myself away :P

The answer seems simple, right?

Talk to her.
Get to know her.
Befriend her.
From there, it's easy.

That might be simple for you, but it's not for me :P  I just suck at meeting people—I don't go anywhere or do anything (uni for me consists of class and existing friends :P), I'm extremely hesitant to talk to anyone I haven't spoken to before, and I have no confidence whatsoever. I am socially deficient; I haven't had the experiences others have had in the field. I was walking around uni with a friend of mine today—he bumped into at least six or seven people he knew, starting conversations with each one while I stood there like a jackass unable to speak :P  I can't talk to strangers, not without a damned good reason.

But, surely, wanting to get to know someone I'm interested in is good reason, right? Not really :P

Forget social justification, or even emotional justification; I need logical justification. There must exist a need to talk to someone for a reason they won't think of as suspicious in any regard. It was easy to talk to my previous girlfriend because we were in the same friend group—that made it really easy for me to get to know her. Here, however, I've got no connections whatsoever, at least none I'm aware of. If I can fucking find one, I can worm my way in and be done with this bullshit; going up to her alone, on the other hand, is suicide. Think about it: what would you think if some random guy you know from one of your classes, who's never spoken to you nor been encountered outside of class, came up and said 'Hi!', or 'How are you?', or 'What's up?', or anything else? To me, no matter the person, they're just gonna think '...what the fuck's up with this guy? Who is he and why is he talking to me? Creepy! ' Bad fucking vibe :P

I need an excuse to talk to her, something validated by external forces. I need to legitimately accidentally bump into her and make her drop her stuff. I need her to forget her pen and have to ask me for one. I need to do some group assignment with her. I need a friend of hers to know a friend of mine to make for a nice, clean introduction. I need some goddamned help here! Help the noob! :P

I think I mentioned in one of my earlier entries that 'the prescription on my balls had run out', comparing my current level of courage to that of two years ago when I asked a girl out who I'd never really spoken to. This is still true, most certainly, but I think we can all agree that asking this new girl out when I haven't talked to her isn't the best way to go about this :P  I could, if I really put myself on the spot and said 'fuck it, it's all or nothing!', but that tact is sure to get me little more than a goofy look and a rather quick rejection.

I wouldn't really care about this all that much, but these feelings seem to have intensified significantly since Tuesday. I didn't think about her too much when not sharing that class, not until now. I can't be sure if I'm simply clinging onto whatever I can find again, perhaps getting overzealous and liking someone simply for the sake of liking someone. I'm well aware that one's perception of any issue can be heavily altered by external factors—but there are things I really like about this girl, attractions I can understand, simple as they may be. I could look at her for hours, that's a given; and what little I've seen of her personality and psyche I adore and want to see more of. It's gotten to the stage where I'm like 'That's what attraction is, right? That's how it's supposed to work, yeah?' It's been that long :P

I think my libido's getting impatient, too. Sex has been on the brain for a while—it's something I really want to experience, and soon. I'm repeatedly comparing myself to those around me, always looking around at uni and going '...he's fucked... he's fucked... she's fucked... he's probably fucked... you know they're fucking... he's fucked... she's probably fucked... she's fucked...' I don't know if I'd feel more comfortable or more freaked out if I knew anyone else who did that :P  I've dreamed of having sex and making love that many fucking times that I just want to do it. I've repeatedly told myself that 'I'll wait until I can do it with someone I have feelings for, to make it memorable and to ensure more comfort and security'. I know all the while, however, that I could easily go to a party, find a slut with low standards, and fuck her brains out; or, if I was prepared to shell out a bit, go to a brothel and pay for my coming of age. I don't want to, though. I want my first experience to be that of making love, not just having sex.

With that term, 'making love', I used to think it was purely a euphemism employed to allow the discussion of sex in more conservative contexts without offending the easily offended. I've come to different terms since all those months ago when I wanted to lose my virginity at my Formal's after-party. I don't know if other people think this way—maybe this is just another instance of me falling behind in the social arena :P—but to me, making love is having sex because of love. In my head, there's a big difference in me having sex with a woman and me making love with a woman. All you've gotta do to have sex is stimulate the sexual organs with the intent of reaching orgasm, usually through the insertion of a phallus into an orifice. Sure, you can have accompanying kissing/hugging/foreplay/whatever else, but the reasoning behind that is more physical than emotional. Making love is more of a full on process, at least from what I like to envision. There's a distinct look on the face, controlled movements of the body to ensure mutual pleasure, and a force behind it all that pushes both parties closer and closer to one another the entire way through. It's something I've never seen recreated well on a screen—and besides, the images in my head were developed by me for me, so they're gonna have more impact anyhow :P

That's how I wanna lose my virginity: through that act and that act alone. My pleasure in fantasising always stems off the pleasure I see through the woman's expressions, and that's what I want to experience: a mutual feeling where I want to be with a woman to the point where I become as close as I can possibly be with her. The problem is, that will only come from a steady relationship.

Even though I speak commonly on my lack of self confidence and disbelief in what's mentioned above from having any real place in reality, I still want it, and I want it more every day, even if it's by just a little bit. It's not like I'm gonna rape someone if I don't get pussy soon—I mean, couldn't rape a six year old if I tried (I'd say something like 'and believe me, I have!' ... but no one believes me). The urge, however, will always be there. My physical feelings for this girl explored in this way give me a little incentive to try and talk to her, but not much. Her pussy can't talk anyway; her mind can, but I'm yet to meet it. I want to meet it, but I just don't have it in me to go through with it on my own. At the same time, however, I don't want to just wait and hope for a miracle, because that's probably not going to happen.

...how do I relationship :P

Beauty: In Language and People

I went to bed at 11 pm last night; I wasn't asleep until sometime past 3am the next morning.
I woke up with 10 minutes to get ready; it took me 15.
I got to my editing lecture 10 minutes late.

But goddamn, I'm happy right now.

Editing class does that to me. If the language is drugs, grammar is my crack cocaine: pure and dangerous. I mean, it's the only class where I really know what I'm doing. It's not like I'm not learning anything—if anything, I learn more and more each week—but it's the only class where I sit down and know I'm gonna kick ass in at least some respect. Substantive editing (editing for tone, consistency, redundancies, point of view, etc.) isn't the easiest and I'm only just picking it up, but there's a real buzz out of picking up someone's work and ripping it to pieces, suggesting better ways to say things, questioning all the ambiguities—brings out the superiority complex in everyone :P  Line-by-line editing (accidental narcotics pun FTW :D), however, is my favourite: droppin' punctuation like a boss, correcting the typos even Word would miss... fucking fun ^_^

I somehow managed to get into a little discussion with the teacher on whether the word 'over' in the title One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest was a preposition. Without really realising it, I'd come to a stronger conclusion than she had, being correct in stating that it was indeed a preposition rather than an adverb (as had been contested). She then complimented me on my grammatical ability in general—to quote NintendoCapriSun: so happy! It's just good to know the work I've put in to my technical writing skills over the years has paid off. On one hand, it's probably a little ridiculous that such a small compliment can make me feel so proud; but I know when I've earned my keep, and this is one keep I have fucking earned. 1 smiley approved for display :)

On the other hand... don't call my grammar good when there's a woman I'm interested in sitting across from me! You trollin'? Don't fucking troll me now, not with this! I already have next to no chance—are you gonna rob a poor man? The only thing I like more than that class is her... and she's in that class... so, not only am I doing lines, but I've also got a needle sticking out my arm! It doesn't matter what she wears, how she does her hair, who she's with, her mood that day... she's beautiful. Every class with her sees my urge to talk to her grow—and that's seriously the only thing I wanna do with her right now! Well... not the only thing, but the first thing, most certainly! I keep saying to myself 'Goddamn it, seriously, I would kill people just to talk to her. I'd slaughter half the fucking room just to get so much as a five minute conversation! I'll go Virginia Tech level if I have to—I don't care!' ...what the fuck am I talking about? I'll commit academic genocide, but won't go up to a girl I'm interested in and say 'Hi!'? These drugs are fucking my sense of logic right up :P

What's unusual is that I don't want to look at her. I actively prevent myself from doing that. The urge to ogle was stronger today than it has been for the past few weeks... it's getting harder and harder to not look :P  It's that thing where you want to look at someone, so you do, and then they look at you perchance, and you instantaneously look away thinking you've gotten away with it... then you go right back to looking at the person, they look at you again perchance, and you look away again—as if that trick's gonna work twice :P  She makes me forget all the shortcomings I usually think of when dreaming of women in solitude. I'm not even in the picture—it's just her. I don't know if that's love, and the label doesn't matter to me: all that matters is that I'm happy when I see her. Maybe I'll talk to her, maybe not—I really want to—but for now, I just like seeing her. I'll take what happiness I can get right now: if seeing her makes me happy, so be it. They're not dirty thoughts, nor intrusive, confusing, ambiguous, hurtful: just beautiful. Like her innocent smile... and the eyes that pop out of her head... and her curly hair... and her skin...

Beautiful like her :)

Tenacity: A Cunt in all its Forms

As you'll soon see, if I could start this one off with a relevant quotation, you wouldn't be here :P

It's 1:49 in the morning. Uni starts at 8:30 for me tomorrow. I should be asleep, or at least in bed trying to sleep. Insomnia's been a problem for me lately, oftentimes gatecrashing at around midnight and insisting I carry on playing Tetris, persist in listening to sceptics of religion, and write things like this when I should be tucked in. I've grown to hate this and have made considerable efforts to get back in line—it was fine when I didn't have a schedule to adhere to, but now I do, so it just serves to fuck me up and leave me without energy at a time when attentiveness is everything. I woke up later than usual yesterday morning which certainly isn't helping, but that's not why I'm up.

Fuck, make that 2:12 in the morning :P

Go back a couple of hours: I'm on YouTube, as per usual, when I get an email from Facebook: an invitation to an event of some kind. I'm not invited to events very often, nor do I know of any upcoming event I'd expect to receive an invite to, so I'm curious as to what it is. Upon taking a glance, I gather its a petition for some kind of music thingy, the invitation sent by one of the more musical people on my friends list. I start reading through it, and do a little research on the subject matter. Turns out there's a budget deficit issue at another uni that's lead them to plan to axe half the music staff, as to get the facility back in the black so to speak (a conclusion I'd more or less come to when I'd finished reading the text in the Facebook event: university's a business first and an educational facility second :P).

Didn't take long for me to process this: the students who applied for any qualifications stemming from participation in the music programs did so on what was advertised to them. What was advertised to them was, among other things, access to a comprehensive musical program led by all the staff that worked there, not just the half that'll keep their jobs if this goes ahead. That's retroactive false advertising, plain and simple. +1 signature for your petition. Thing was, the person who invited me still went to high school... so whose petition was it?

Then I saw the name up the top, having missed it when I first arrived at the page: Sally.

For some reason, as soon as I saw that name, I started to feel weird. I can't explain what it was, but I soon became restless and had to get out of my chair. I wasn't in some kind of uncontrollable fit, but I was certainly irritable. I was shaking a little too, pacing around my room, murmuring incoherently every now and then. After a good ten-to-fifteen minutes of that, I sat on my bed and just silently pondered the clusterfuck that was my brain at that point. I didn't understand what was going on. At some point during all this, as if in disbelief, I walked over to the computer and hovered over her name: up popped the little box with her picture. I'd done little more than see her name and her face, and my mind had gone into an infinite regression, my chest felt heavy and tense, and I was shaking—it may have only been mild, but it was still involuntary.

What the fuck happened?

Seriously, what was that? I want to know! It's not like this person's fucking traumatised me; she's just some girl I liked years ago, who I also happened to want to date and sleep with at my Year 12 Formal. This wasn't a repeat of such desire; it was anything but feelings of desire. It was just awkward, tense and uncomfortable, perhaps anxiety, leaving me unable to concentrate on anything else for a good fifteen to twenty minutes. I haven't been feeling the best lately (evident in the last two entries), but this wasn't depression; it was just strange, something I haven't really felt before, something I'd rather not feel again.

We have thoughts, but thoughts are fluid. Then we assign a word to a thought... and we're stuck with that word for that thought...

George Carlin

Replace 'word' with 'symbol', and that's my belief in terms of how we understand thought. I could be way off base, but that's what I think for the meantime: we understand thoughts by assigning symbols to them that we can relate to. In this case, I have no symbol to which I can relate almost anything that went through my head—no word, no phrase, no clause, no sentence, no paragraph, no picture, no video, no sound, no song, nothing. What did come back were simply the two most recent images I have of her: seeing her at the Formal after-party, the last time I would see her. Both images were mentioned in an article I published recently discussing those events and my previous writing on them.

One is of the very last time I saw her in the flesh:

[Right before I went home], I looked over one last time at the tent area to see Sally and her friends sitting around. Still, there was no smile.

The other, far stronger, is of the last time I spoke to her:

I returned to the camp-fire to see Sally still warming herself. I took the (only) spare seat next to her, and looked at her. She looked down... really down...

"Hello, Sally. How are you?"

"I'm alright... how are you?"

"I'm OK... ... ...you don't look like you're having very much fun."

"That's because I'm not."

Even though I want to remember her as the happy, kind-hearted girl I had feelings for all those years ago, the last time I saw her didn't capture any such emotion. Even her profile picture didn't deliver a look much different to the one I remember—it's honestly a stupid question, but I've even wondered if she's smiled at all since I last saw her. Any time I think of her (which, contrary to what this article may suggest, is far from often), those are the two images that usually end up dominating my memory. I don't want to remember her in that more positive way to instil feelings for her. If anything, I want to avoid having feelings for her—it's fucking moronic to think we could ever be something. We aren't even acquaintances, let alone friends; we have nothing in common with each other; we live in totally different places and do totally different things; we are incompatible. Granted, I can assert that these feelings aren't ones of love nor lust, but that doesn't mean I know what they actually are. 

I've heard things recently about people having feelings for others far beyond rejection, long after they've supposed to have moved on—I really, really don't want that. I have better things to do than ponder over a future I can guarantee won't come to light, and she has better shit to do than hear about me ever again (like, I don't know... worrying about her education :P). If I'm going to remember her at all, however that remembrance be inspired, I want it to be at least somewhat positive, not me having a mini-freakout over such nothingness as seeing her name :P 

I don't know why it hurts, and being a male (hence thinking everything's a competition :P), I want to know what's going on, to crush ignorance and misunderstanding under my foot and claim victory through knowledge and comprehension. Falling short of that, I'd just like it to stop and not happen again. Perhaps these feelings do mean something, and I don't want to block any emotion just because it makes me feel uncomfortable, but I hate feeling like shit for no reason.

3:31... sigh :P