I hate lack of communication. When you’re over there and I’m over here and all we have are the spaces in between and the spaces in our heads. Sometimes it feels like you don’t exist. But then sometimes it feels like I don’t exist. It’s symptomatic. But it’s hard to hold onto something when you’re not sure what it is because it’s not there now and you doubt if it ever really happened at all, but you have the memories, but sometimes they’re not enough. But sometimes they certainly are.
This weekend has been nice. Friday was a nice day, spoke to an acquaintance outside of class, he happened to sit next to me at the library and really need my help with something, right after I decided that I really need to be more open to building relationships with people rather than always being ruled by the way that has hardly ever worked for me before. But it would seem to make sense to live by that if it’s all I’ve ever known, if it always goes wrong, but then I assume I’m just doing something wrong in myself that can be rectified over time as I try to learn. And then I waited for a bus which didn’t come for ages and then when buses finally did come they were full, so I waited for half an hour, and I was frustrated and annoyed but simultaneously having a good time just standing there and the evening was beautiful and the bats were materializing out of the sky above the city and the afternoon colours turned to night colours and I knew it was going to be a good night, knew it in a way I’ve never felt before. Party at Bob’s was fun, with the breaking of a tap I don’t understand how and much talking to people I think although come to think of it I can’t remember that much talking…no there was talking…I think…it’s fading like a dream. And upset walkings with myself at some time but no one knew I was gone of course, and lots of drinking and niceness and waking up the next morning to niceness and loves, but with no recollection of how I got where I was even though I was told I wasn’t completely carried there, and then Saturday’s chief occupation was being hung over and spending hours trying to make myself eat because when I’m that hungry I can’t eat so it’s kind of a vicious cycle. And I voted, which was way exciting. And then some tasty tapas for dinner and then sleeping and loves and then working and then reading Regina and Amanda’s blogs and being so so jealous of their amazingness and now typing myself.
Then I need to do an essayish thing about doppelgangers for Thursday and a draft of a biographical thing about Jorge Luis Borges for Friday and then two weeks off uni in which I will write an essay about a street art exhibition in Newtown and finish the Borges piece and then come up with ideas for my final assignments.
Insight for the year (a breakthrough one pour moi): it is worth doing stuff.
Much loves
This weekend has been nice. Friday was a nice day, spoke to an acquaintance outside of class, he happened to sit next to me at the library and really need my help with something, right after I decided that I really need to be more open to building relationships with people rather than always being ruled by the way that has hardly ever worked for me before. But it would seem to make sense to live by that if it’s all I’ve ever known, if it always goes wrong, but then I assume I’m just doing something wrong in myself that can be rectified over time as I try to learn. And then I waited for a bus which didn’t come for ages and then when buses finally did come they were full, so I waited for half an hour, and I was frustrated and annoyed but simultaneously having a good time just standing there and the evening was beautiful and the bats were materializing out of the sky above the city and the afternoon colours turned to night colours and I knew it was going to be a good night, knew it in a way I’ve never felt before. Party at Bob’s was fun, with the breaking of a tap I don’t understand how and much talking to people I think although come to think of it I can’t remember that much talking…no there was talking…I think…it’s fading like a dream. And upset walkings with myself at some time but no one knew I was gone of course, and lots of drinking and niceness and waking up the next morning to niceness and loves, but with no recollection of how I got where I was even though I was told I wasn’t completely carried there, and then Saturday’s chief occupation was being hung over and spending hours trying to make myself eat because when I’m that hungry I can’t eat so it’s kind of a vicious cycle. And I voted, which was way exciting. And then some tasty tapas for dinner and then sleeping and loves and then working and then reading Regina and Amanda’s blogs and being so so jealous of their amazingness and now typing myself.
Then I need to do an essayish thing about doppelgangers for Thursday and a draft of a biographical thing about Jorge Luis Borges for Friday and then two weeks off uni in which I will write an essay about a street art exhibition in Newtown and finish the Borges piece and then come up with ideas for my final assignments.
Insight for the year (a breakthrough one pour moi): it is worth doing stuff.
Much loves
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