"we should get together and play boner tag sometime" -Gordon
i keep avoiding livejournal and i don't know why. maybe because i'm being stubborn about writing in my notebook journals when i have worthwhile thoughts, but then as soon as i start writing i become impatient and stop in mid-paragraph.
also, i think that i'm afraid of disappointing myself. lately i've been having such a broad and interesting range of thoughts, they're hard to articulate. If I should discover that my writing has become as scattered and convoluded as my speech has lately, I think I would cry and admit myself into a hospital.
My problem lately has been this inconsistent nervous-habit thing that disrupts my speech, so that when I get anxious or am trying to explain anything complex, words escape me and everything I say comes across as weak and unexplanitory. I just keep making inconsequent remarks. Although sometimes, for no reason, in a situation where I should be nervous, I seem to be fine and sharp. The unsolved mysteries of Cynthia's mind.
Today I walked home and it started raining, but not hard enough to wet me. I kept picking road-side flowers, that are really just mountians weeds, but it really pleased me. I feel as though I'm absorbing the whole world and churning bright and deep colors inside me.
Living in my house in Boone has been wonderful. Although I can't say I've been happy, this is irrelevant, because I can't really see anytime in life that could be so simply described as "happy". Either way, I have my room with two matresses I love sleeping on and the kitchen and the dirty rag towel we found in the backyard that says New Castle Brown Ale.
Erin Gillespie, my most constant companion and roommate, is fun to be around. Lately, I feel like I've had too much of her, because I get easily annoyed with her whiny-ness and quirky little habits like using too many dishes and leaving her diet coke cans all over the place, and generally shit-talking Rachael all the time. Although I'm in agreement with Erin about Rachael and Alex hanging out too much, I don't feel some personal resentment about it and therefore don't feel like complaining about it all the time. The only thing I resent Rachael for is for not doing the dishes ever.
We've had a lot of new friend-related experiences. We don't have a tv or airconditioning, but we have a charming porch and cozy house and we've been having a lot of mild beer-drinking chatting on the porch with our neighbors time, or dance-party time with Christopher Robinson. I've been sort-of hanging out with Emory, although he remains a pleasant but not top-priority person, although I feel like a shit saying it. I've also seen odd combinations of people. And Trip, which is an entirely different story I may not even elaborate on because I feel tired just thinking about starting it. The last time I saw him, he triggered the adventure of getting into the attic at my house (the attic door is in my room) which ensued in me and erin squealing and sifting through boxes of letters and magazines that were left up there from the 1950's-1960's. We found LOVE LETTERS (YES, REALLY) and articles about the soviet union and smiley women in advertisements that read stuff like "You can call your husband on the telephone and hope he still loves you after you bent his fender!"
Anyway, that was the last time I saw Trip, I left him abruptly on my porch with an impersonal goodbye. He looked expectant. But we didn't talk about anything. The first time I saw him I was so charmed and drawn to him agian, but now I feel my head is cleared and what I'm really doing is trying to stop wondering what he's doing and where he is and getting little warm flashes for him. For the most part, I just feel irritated at him and unforgiving of all the past baggage attached to us, and I know that I don't want to be with him. We're not even comfortable together, unless we're drunk, and I've concluded that fondness induced by drunkenness is insincere, regardless of how amazing and beautiful it feels right then.
also, i think that i'm afraid of disappointing myself. lately i've been having such a broad and interesting range of thoughts, they're hard to articulate. If I should discover that my writing has become as scattered and convoluded as my speech has lately, I think I would cry and admit myself into a hospital.
My problem lately has been this inconsistent nervous-habit thing that disrupts my speech, so that when I get anxious or am trying to explain anything complex, words escape me and everything I say comes across as weak and unexplanitory. I just keep making inconsequent remarks. Although sometimes, for no reason, in a situation where I should be nervous, I seem to be fine and sharp. The unsolved mysteries of Cynthia's mind.
Today I walked home and it started raining, but not hard enough to wet me. I kept picking road-side flowers, that are really just mountians weeds, but it really pleased me. I feel as though I'm absorbing the whole world and churning bright and deep colors inside me.
Living in my house in Boone has been wonderful. Although I can't say I've been happy, this is irrelevant, because I can't really see anytime in life that could be so simply described as "happy". Either way, I have my room with two matresses I love sleeping on and the kitchen and the dirty rag towel we found in the backyard that says New Castle Brown Ale.
Erin Gillespie, my most constant companion and roommate, is fun to be around. Lately, I feel like I've had too much of her, because I get easily annoyed with her whiny-ness and quirky little habits like using too many dishes and leaving her diet coke cans all over the place, and generally shit-talking Rachael all the time. Although I'm in agreement with Erin about Rachael and Alex hanging out too much, I don't feel some personal resentment about it and therefore don't feel like complaining about it all the time. The only thing I resent Rachael for is for not doing the dishes ever.
We've had a lot of new friend-related experiences. We don't have a tv or airconditioning, but we have a charming porch and cozy house and we've been having a lot of mild beer-drinking chatting on the porch with our neighbors time, or dance-party time with Christopher Robinson. I've been sort-of hanging out with Emory, although he remains a pleasant but not top-priority person, although I feel like a shit saying it. I've also seen odd combinations of people. And Trip, which is an entirely different story I may not even elaborate on because I feel tired just thinking about starting it. The last time I saw him, he triggered the adventure of getting into the attic at my house (the attic door is in my room) which ensued in me and erin squealing and sifting through boxes of letters and magazines that were left up there from the 1950's-1960's. We found LOVE LETTERS (YES, REALLY) and articles about the soviet union and smiley women in advertisements that read stuff like "You can call your husband on the telephone and hope he still loves you after you bent his fender!"
Anyway, that was the last time I saw Trip, I left him abruptly on my porch with an impersonal goodbye. He looked expectant. But we didn't talk about anything. The first time I saw him I was so charmed and drawn to him agian, but now I feel my head is cleared and what I'm really doing is trying to stop wondering what he's doing and where he is and getting little warm flashes for him. For the most part, I just feel irritated at him and unforgiving of all the past baggage attached to us, and I know that I don't want to be with him. We're not even comfortable together, unless we're drunk, and I've concluded that fondness induced by drunkenness is insincere, regardless of how amazing and beautiful it feels right then.