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 :)