Rifted Heart: Putting the L in P.L.U.R.
I haven't updated in way too long. Or, I have, but nothing I wanted to share. It's been weird since last semester ended. It wasn't great. I was havin all kinds of issues. Aftermath of a baaad semester. The relationship thing was also getting interesting...at a critical point at a stressful time. I just felt like I couldn't post until I felt more balanced. I went at least an entire month of having terrible sleeping habits, being haunted by neverending work and the school-boyfriend tug-o-war, and my own inability to deal with it all and think I could by just trying again the next day the exact same thing but better. That doesn't really work. Then break came, and I went a month with not doing much, thinking, becoming a bit of a stoner (interesting), and realizing the point at which pot becomes unappealing to me. Wow, if that is what "addicted" is, that shit has nothing on me. Once again proving that liquor is more dangerous in basically every way. New Year's Eve came, and I got to kiss my guy the moment 2008 became 2009 though...I'm going to remember that.
Well, I post now because I went to a rave and something in me came back. I was stressing out about the beginning of the new semester, and Valentine's Day, and what I was going to do for Valentine's Day, and if it would be good enough, and if I could afford to go home the first weekend or if I was starting the pattern that doomed me last semester all over again. Jordan and I were going to go to a nice restaurant I found, but my sister and some friends really wanted to go rave it up, and Jordan had just found out he'd gotten into a much better school, and it just seemed like a good moment to dance the night away on the candy that is synonymous with the word "love". Say what you will about it, but when people are rolling, all the bitchy attitudes fall away. The pointless club-ho competition. The posturing (and frequently homophobic) man-bitches who think they're the shit (and who think they dress amazing when they all dress the same). People enjoy themselves, and enjoy touching and skin, and feeling good, and being alive. In an atmosphere that, more than most other party environments, revolves around (original) music and dancing. Instead of trying to look rich and hot and being drunk and dramatic. And there totally is a group vibe. It's why it's so easy to make friends...the barriers fall down, for everybody, people aren't afraid of making contact without the claws bared. I got nothing but compliments on my Goodwill zebra pants all night, heh.
The DJs were excellent, and the lights were pretty bomb as well. The first-timers with us were really fun. Driving home groovin and laughin while rolling always is. I was talking a mile a minute. I felt like a different person, like myself hopped up on A SHITTON of caffeine. WALKING TO THE CAR/APPARTMENT IN MINNESOTA WINTER WHILE ROLLING IS NOT FUN. Gloriously lounging in the hot tub once you escape the ice-age and watching the sunrise through the large windows next to the hot tub while rolling is amaaaaaziinnnggggg and feels like swimming in heaven. We had a "straight" friend who tried his hardest to prove his heterosexuality with the effed up chicks there allll night get significantly less straight with the boy who likes him once we came home and crashed (funny how that happens). And I don't know if I slept at all, but I do know I laid in bed with Jordan having one of the most intimate experiences ever. A few hours of feeling how much I like him, physically and mentally and both in one, feeling close in a sexual way that isn't really sexual. And after all the stressing out I've been doing, that's really what I needed. I was relieved to finally sleep again last night dammit, but it was well worth it. It feels like I've been recharged again. MDMA was once used in therapy and goddamn, can it be therapeutic.
The first day of classes felt like nothing but doomsday to me. It's my last semester. I don't want a repeat of the previous. I'm a lot more optimistic now though, as opposed to a resurfacing depressed. Ironic that the party was called "Rifted Heart", because it definitely feels like mine was sewn up a little. I bought Jordan "The Little Prince" in French for Valentine's Day, and I thought it was appropriate. The world is harsh, and America just loves it to be that way, but it really doesn't have to be if you make pleasure more important than pain. Dessine-moi un mouton, s'il vous plaît.