The Dummy's Guide to the Care and Maintenance of Vases, Part 7 of 9ish
Haven't had a whole lot of time to write recently, but here's something short for anyone who might be curious as to where I'm headed with this.
This whole consciousness thing is way overrated. I mean, it's not like I am Xander Thoughtmotron, and I still spend way more time thinking than I'm entirely comfortable with. I mean, when something bad happens that you weren't expecting, that kind of sucks. But it's when you know that something bad is about to happen but can't do anything about it that the U-Haul of shittiness really parks in the driveway of the house of you.
I mean, I'm probably exaggerating this whole thing anyway. It's not like she's going to dump me because I couldn't afford anything decent to buy her for her birthday. But I don't want to buy her nice things just for her birthday. I want a computer so that she can do whatever Willow does with computers. I want a bathtub so she can take warm baths and maybe not feel so cold all the time. I want to be able to pay the water bill.
And you're probably thinking that that's really sweet, but it isn't. I don't want to be able to do those things for her. I want to be able to do them for me, because that's the kind of person I want to be. I want to be the kind of person who's respected if perhaps slightly boring by day and fills the hearts of the bad guys with fear by night. I want to be Batman.
Of course, I've always wanted to be Batman. Now I think that maybe Robin's job wasn't so bad. I would gladly accept the questionable sexuality and bright red pants for the chance to be where he is, instead of where I am now, which is pretend-stalking my own girlfriend.
At least she hasn't noticed me yet. I bet she'll be proud of me when she realizes that I've gotten good enough at the whole tracking thing to follow her home. Unless, of course, she's already seen me and is pretending not to notice so as not to hurt my feelings. Or because she doesn't want to talk to me.
I'm close enough now to see that there's a bulge under the spraypainted ANGEL IS A TWATBASKET leather coat she keeps borrowing from me. I really, really hope that she didn't buy me anything, for the obvious reason, of course, and also because her version of “buying” rarely involves involves actual payment, and I would have to yell at her and she looks like a hurt puppy when I do that.
Maybe I could steal her something.
Okay. This isn't helping. The last time I was this perplexed about something, I tried writing down a list of arguments, and my life still sucks but I wound up with a girlfriend, so that was cool.
I take a brief moment to thing about that. Yeah. Really cool.
I don't have any paper with me, but I can still do it in my head:
1. Flowers. Pros: They're the sort of things that she likes but is kind of embarrassed to admit she likes because of the whole badass vampire thing. Cons: Too cheap. Also I should be able to buy her flowers all the time and not just for special occasions and my life sucks but the suckage of my life is not the issue here so we'll just move on.
2. Chocolates. Pros: Chocolates. Cons: Too cheap. Also she can't eat. Also I would probably eat them.
3. A piano. Okay, I'm stretching here.
4. Hey, maybe I could make her something myself? Like, um, a bed. I know she kind of dislikes being dependent on me, and that way she could spend the day on her own if she wanted. I mean, hopefully she wouldn't, but the main thing is that she could. Except that she doesn't actually have any place to put it. Also I have no idea how you make a bed. Also this thinking is a lot harder than it looks. I mean, I thought it would be easier when I'm by myself but there's always noise or something. That's like the third car backfiring I've heard this evening.
5. Or, hey, a coffin! Some vampires sleep in coffins, right? And I could put in a little lamp and a bookshelf and it would be like her own room and she could go in there and read when she feels like she needs personal space and blood and a lot of blood on Willow's face and it appears ladies and gents that the bulge was a gun, how hackneyed, and holding her forehead with one hand and what used to be a young woman in the other, and my heart is hammering like it wants to get out of my chest and I don't blame it and I feel ashamed because Batman would never make stupid puns like that when something bad happens to him and a lot of bad things have happened to me and this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
Next
This whole consciousness thing is way overrated. I mean, it's not like I am Xander Thoughtmotron, and I still spend way more time thinking than I'm entirely comfortable with. I mean, when something bad happens that you weren't expecting, that kind of sucks. But it's when you know that something bad is about to happen but can't do anything about it that the U-Haul of shittiness really parks in the driveway of the house of you.
I mean, I'm probably exaggerating this whole thing anyway. It's not like she's going to dump me because I couldn't afford anything decent to buy her for her birthday. But I don't want to buy her nice things just for her birthday. I want a computer so that she can do whatever Willow does with computers. I want a bathtub so she can take warm baths and maybe not feel so cold all the time. I want to be able to pay the water bill.
And you're probably thinking that that's really sweet, but it isn't. I don't want to be able to do those things for her. I want to be able to do them for me, because that's the kind of person I want to be. I want to be the kind of person who's respected if perhaps slightly boring by day and fills the hearts of the bad guys with fear by night. I want to be Batman.
Of course, I've always wanted to be Batman. Now I think that maybe Robin's job wasn't so bad. I would gladly accept the questionable sexuality and bright red pants for the chance to be where he is, instead of where I am now, which is pretend-stalking my own girlfriend.
At least she hasn't noticed me yet. I bet she'll be proud of me when she realizes that I've gotten good enough at the whole tracking thing to follow her home. Unless, of course, she's already seen me and is pretending not to notice so as not to hurt my feelings. Or because she doesn't want to talk to me.
I'm close enough now to see that there's a bulge under the spraypainted ANGEL IS A TWATBASKET leather coat she keeps borrowing from me. I really, really hope that she didn't buy me anything, for the obvious reason, of course, and also because her version of “buying” rarely involves involves actual payment, and I would have to yell at her and she looks like a hurt puppy when I do that.
Maybe I could steal her something.
Okay. This isn't helping. The last time I was this perplexed about something, I tried writing down a list of arguments, and my life still sucks but I wound up with a girlfriend, so that was cool.
I take a brief moment to thing about that. Yeah. Really cool.
I don't have any paper with me, but I can still do it in my head:
1. Flowers. Pros: They're the sort of things that she likes but is kind of embarrassed to admit she likes because of the whole badass vampire thing. Cons: Too cheap. Also I should be able to buy her flowers all the time and not just for special occasions and my life sucks but the suckage of my life is not the issue here so we'll just move on.
2. Chocolates. Pros: Chocolates. Cons: Too cheap. Also she can't eat. Also I would probably eat them.
3. A piano. Okay, I'm stretching here.
4. Hey, maybe I could make her something myself? Like, um, a bed. I know she kind of dislikes being dependent on me, and that way she could spend the day on her own if she wanted. I mean, hopefully she wouldn't, but the main thing is that she could. Except that she doesn't actually have any place to put it. Also I have no idea how you make a bed. Also this thinking is a lot harder than it looks. I mean, I thought it would be easier when I'm by myself but there's always noise or something. That's like the third car backfiring I've heard this evening.
5. Or, hey, a coffin! Some vampires sleep in coffins, right? And I could put in a little lamp and a bookshelf and it would be like her own room and she could go in there and read when she feels like she needs personal space and blood and a lot of blood on Willow's face and it appears ladies and gents that the bulge was a gun, how hackneyed, and holding her forehead with one hand and what used to be a young woman in the other, and my heart is hammering like it wants to get out of my chest and I don't blame it and I feel ashamed because Batman would never make stupid puns like that when something bad happens to him and a lot of bad things have happened to me and this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
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