Sunday, November 30, 2003

begin silly stream of consciousness

it's after 3am. it's late. i can't form a coherent enough thought in my head to really do anything, but i'm too wired to sleep. i don't know why. i'm surfing the web, but even that's getting old, because i'm hunched over my computer, and my back has been aching all evening. i'd rant to a real live human being, but no one's up, not even anyone on my aim buddy list--and there's ALWAYS someone up on my aim buddy list. this whole thing makes no sense...i was so close to conking out an hour or two ago, and then...not so much. it might make it better if i could crank some music, but my roommate is sleeping. she can put up with a lot, she can put up with lights and me being awake and shuffling papers and hanging my precious setlist collection up on the wall, but i'm not going to subject her to blaring music. granted, i think the music i'd want to blare would be slow and melancholy, but it would also be loud, and i'd start singing along, and it just wouldn't be a very nice thing to do to someone who's lucky enough to have the precious gift of sleep right now.

this is the most gratuitous, self-important blog entry ever because i'm ranting about absolutely nothing of any consequence to anyone but me. still, since no one is up or around to tolerate my ranting, my blog is the only repository.

speaking of ranting, a total non sequitur...i played cards with a couple of my friends today, and they were doing the same jokes that they always make about me. still, for some reason, it bothered me a lot more today than it ever has before. not only that, but the making fun of me seemed less an interspersed thing (which is amusing) and more a constant thing...as in, all they did was lay down a card, take a potshot at me. lay down another card, take another potshot at me. i tried to roll with it, and i did so without breaking down, but it sometimes makes me wonder. they clearly don't mean it maliciously, i know them too well for that. still, even good-natured ribbing, when done without end for a two hour period, gets a little old and a little grating on the old self-esteem. hopefully they'll calm down tomorrow, find something to talk about in addition to comparing me to a certain bleating farm animal.

i need sleep. i need more human interaction--i've had virtually none over the last few days. it's recharging to an extent, but it also gets very, very lonely and very, very disillusioning--i am, in fact, alone with all my wrongs. i can rip myself to shreds, and there's no one there to distract me, comfort me, or tell me i'm being hypercritical. i can give myself a pep talk about believing that i'm worth something, or worth nothing, and for all practical purposes convince myself of anything i want. i can disappear in crowds with nothing but my own emotions and desires to guide me. i can laugh at the little ironies i note, but feel trapped in the idea that no one else would find the ironies funny, or even want to know about these ironies. (yes, this is something that did happen earlier today, but you don't want to know the story, it's a minor, odd addendum to the same story i didn't tell two weeks ago, the one that validates my existence as a manipulative wench. i haven't even told my best friend that story...which is strange, given that i've told him almost all my worse stories.)

at least i have band practice tomorrow. hopefully i'll be able to sing. my throat has been hurting all week, and it's still aching, so i'm still just hoping and praying that it goes away by five o'clock tomorrow. singing is a relase. singing means i can disappear from everything that's weighing on me and just bleed in a healthy, constructive way. singing is beautiful. singing is necessary.

end silly stream of consciousness

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