*sigh*
Must not send ambigous myspace messages to the trainer... must not read too much into ambiguous messages from the trainer... must abandon myspace... Shit. This is so not the plan.
I'm in the Deep South with my parents right now, which is leaving me even more bored than usual. Which means I have plenty of time to irritate my trainer and he appears to have plenty of time to irritate right back. I have never behaved so childishly in my life, and while certainly there have been boys who have caused Mt. Everest piles of confusion in the past, far outweighing the drama here, (after all, sex is not actually involved, no matter how much it might be in my head), I am still buried in somethin. Pathetically, never-endingly so. I find it rather charming, actually. We all enjoy the thrill of the new, and since this is rather like that perfect high-school infatuation with the football team captain I never had, why not live it up? I'm definitely going for a record here in terms of single, undistracted, shutting out other options, crush. Unfortunately, as the interest goes on, I begin to doubt if the person I like exists, and if I'll be very disappointed in the actual person underneath. What do you do if they turn out to be bad in bed? What do you do when one day you wake up and the person you love is boring? That has happened. The feeling doesn't go away because feelings fade on their own schedule, but you know in your mind that you don't really respect the person. They're inferior in some way.
I wish he read more. I wish I knew any way to bring up art, which he'd have to know more about than me considering his degree. Thank goodness he has opinions on politics and religion, but I wish he cared more about world events or the bizarre minor stories on BBC. I wish he didn't hate cats, although I'm glad he's not totally obsessed with dogs. I wish he wasn't damaged, although god knows I need him to be. I need him to not let me make a fool out of myself.
And no, I am not sending him flowers for Valentine's Day, even though I really wanted to. Fate and Katya conspired to prevent me and that is for the best, although I did find some really nice flowers and I shall have them delivered to my mother instead. Katya did point out, correctly, that there was no way he wouldn't know the flowers were from me, especially with the Jeanette Winterson quote I wanted to attach with said flowers.
"The probability of separate worlds meeting is very small. The lure of it is immense. We send starships. We fall in love."
Although I thought about this one:
"After loss of Identity, the most potent modern terror, is loss of sexuality, or, as Descartes didn’t say, "I fuck therefore I am."
Or the one that is most literally true for me:
"However it is debased or misinterpreted, love is a redemptive feature. To focus on one individual so that their desires become superior to yours is a very cleansing experience.”
And the one I thought of first, from Written on the Body:
"You said, "I love you." Why is it that the most unoriginal thing we can say to one another is still the thing we long to hear? "I love you" is always a quotation. You did not say it first and neither did I, yet when you say it and when I say it we speak like savages who have found three words and worship them."
But those quotes are only shadows of books themselves and only truly hold meaning for those who have enjoyed the entire experience of a Jeanette Winterson novel. By themselves, they sound a bit psycho.
I'm going to bed, I've run out of thought. And I should stop dripping lust out my ears.
I'm in the Deep South with my parents right now, which is leaving me even more bored than usual. Which means I have plenty of time to irritate my trainer and he appears to have plenty of time to irritate right back. I have never behaved so childishly in my life, and while certainly there have been boys who have caused Mt. Everest piles of confusion in the past, far outweighing the drama here, (after all, sex is not actually involved, no matter how much it might be in my head), I am still buried in somethin. Pathetically, never-endingly so. I find it rather charming, actually. We all enjoy the thrill of the new, and since this is rather like that perfect high-school infatuation with the football team captain I never had, why not live it up? I'm definitely going for a record here in terms of single, undistracted, shutting out other options, crush. Unfortunately, as the interest goes on, I begin to doubt if the person I like exists, and if I'll be very disappointed in the actual person underneath. What do you do if they turn out to be bad in bed? What do you do when one day you wake up and the person you love is boring? That has happened. The feeling doesn't go away because feelings fade on their own schedule, but you know in your mind that you don't really respect the person. They're inferior in some way.
I wish he read more. I wish I knew any way to bring up art, which he'd have to know more about than me considering his degree. Thank goodness he has opinions on politics and religion, but I wish he cared more about world events or the bizarre minor stories on BBC. I wish he didn't hate cats, although I'm glad he's not totally obsessed with dogs. I wish he wasn't damaged, although god knows I need him to be. I need him to not let me make a fool out of myself.
And no, I am not sending him flowers for Valentine's Day, even though I really wanted to. Fate and Katya conspired to prevent me and that is for the best, although I did find some really nice flowers and I shall have them delivered to my mother instead. Katya did point out, correctly, that there was no way he wouldn't know the flowers were from me, especially with the Jeanette Winterson quote I wanted to attach with said flowers.
"The probability of separate worlds meeting is very small. The lure of it is immense. We send starships. We fall in love."
Although I thought about this one:
"After loss of Identity, the most potent modern terror, is loss of sexuality, or, as Descartes didn’t say, "I fuck therefore I am."
Or the one that is most literally true for me:
"However it is debased or misinterpreted, love is a redemptive feature. To focus on one individual so that their desires become superior to yours is a very cleansing experience.”
And the one I thought of first, from Written on the Body:
"You said, "I love you." Why is it that the most unoriginal thing we can say to one another is still the thing we long to hear? "I love you" is always a quotation. You did not say it first and neither did I, yet when you say it and when I say it we speak like savages who have found three words and worship them."
But those quotes are only shadows of books themselves and only truly hold meaning for those who have enjoyed the entire experience of a Jeanette Winterson novel. By themselves, they sound a bit psycho.
I'm going to bed, I've run out of thought. And I should stop dripping lust out my ears.