Riding the cotton pony.

Why have I suddenly gotten a spike from Russia? XD

Well, even though I didn't mention this could be the reason for my freakout in the last entry, I did consider it a possibility in my head. But it turns out the little voice in the back of my head was right- it was just a lot quieter than the screaming voices in the front of my head. Today my suspicion was confirmed, I just had an abnormally large wave of estrogen wreaking havoc on my intelligence in preparation for that time-honored disaster known too well by all those cursed enough to be healthy post-puberty females. In other words, my time of the month.

Of course it didn't help that the meds wore off and I had been left alone for the better part of two weeks. When we're alone we want to see someone, when we're surrounded we want to be left alone. Now, the only reason I'm mentioning this at all is to mark to myself what it looks like. Or maybe it would be useful to some guy who wants to conquer my heart. To be calm in the midst of living with a lunatic, i must admit, is very attractive. My Dad always was, but that might be because he married a woman who seemed to having her "time of the decade" to deal with. He always brought me chocolate. And between you, me, and my little sister, I never craved chocolate to sooth me. But when he would sneak it to me so my brother's wouldn't get jealous, it would make me feel better because I saw that my father loved me. He wanted to help me in any way he could.

I've probably mentioned this a thousand times, but my favorite memory is sitting on the couch with my Dad who would tuck me under his arm on a Sunday night to watch TV with the family. And I always thought that he'd want me to move so he could sit with his wife. But Dad never sat in the corner of the couch, he put her on his other side and me under his arm and kept me safe. I don't remember the shows we watched but I know that was my favorite time. listening to the dishwasher downstairs, everything clean and neat. My Dad's was the first and only man-smell I had contact with for a long time. It never occurred to me how much I liked it until I came home one year after being at school.

Anyway. Turns out I'm not going insane, and no one hates me. Masato laughed when I apologized like an infant and told me that life was simple and to never worry about those things. And Jeremy, who was the closest to being in the thick of my tornado seemed okay with it. I don't know why. Maybe he figured it out before I did what was wrong with me. He told me a while back that when his old girlfriend would PMS he knew that all he had to do was "stuff her like a whale" with food. Just take her out and feed her. That'll probably work for me too. But honestly (other than my Dad of course) no one has ever really taken care of me that way because I don't think I've ever really been comfortable enough to tell a guy what the problem was. It's really very embarrassing. If you are a guy and you stumble on this, know it's just as maddening, painful, and disgusting as you'd imagine. So, no: I don't like to talk about it. But knowing that I'm not going to mention it, makes me want to hide. I don't know if that's better than spewing venom mercilessly. See? no happy medium. But why does it have to be that I get super emo right BEFORE? It remains a mystery for far too many damaging hours before I figure it out. And then my emotions calm and the physical agony starts.

My back is already killing me this week and all I want to do is lay on the floor to stretch it out. But now I have new problems so that it makes me want to not move from my bed for at least a week. Standing up, sitting down, even getting 'excited' is an annoyance. I'd rather revert to being a little girl and play video games all night.

One thing I want to mention (and why have these entries all been so freaking LONG lately?!) is a nice thing that happened. I was on a skype dinner date with an old friend and I was going bonkers last night. Rubbing my face incessantly, typing ferociously, and I couldn't quiet my brain enough to get any interesting conversation out. And each passing silent moment was another stab of failure at my inability to control myself. After one such long silence I apologized- "I can't think of anything right to say".

He replied. "it's okay. awkward silences are true signs of love. because we're willing to share the silence. and be comfortable with it." I'd heard of the concept before (and didn't always buy it) but the fact that I think he really meant it surprised me and helped me calm down. It's okay? And as I thought about it- it was okay. I was nice to just listen to the air conditioner is someone else's home. Just lay in bed and know that someone just enjoyed my company. Not because I'm GORGEOUS or RANDY or ENTERTAINING. It was nice to have a friend there who... I guess... belonged to me? For a while? Of course we're not dating by any means but I guess that's why people long for a companion.

I think we all have a craving to belong to someone and have them belong to you. I'm a very jealous, it's true. A girl so full of passion, I become imprisoned to in my dedication. but I'm also pretty good at not showing it- I've become very practiced at swallowing that covetousness beast.

And of women too for who they are or who they have. I envy Aino for the easy way she makes and keeps certain friends, Mikan in her graceful humanity, Nikki & Ali & Lulu & Cynthia & Heather & Train Girl.

I'm tired. I have to get up and get to work to print the paperwork I forgot in order to get into ALA tomorrow. It's going to be difficult to get up- partly because I'm worried I'll go and have no friends left in the room. hm. It's going to be a difficult day no matter WHO is in the room come to think of it. O.o

FREAKING AUNT FLO. I've got the red curse! BLAH.