Music: Death Cab for Cutie – Brothers on a Hotel Bed
Last night Wishy sat on my bed and told me how deeply he felt for me, that I was the best thing that’s happened to him here, and I sat there hugging my comforters and crying because I could not say the same things back to him.
He told me he was thinking of transferring because LAC doesn’t feel like home and if he dated me that means he’d be accepting four years here, which he’s not sure he wants to do, and I cried because I truly wouldn’t care if he left.
He told me that there might be another girl who doesn’t compare to me but she’s familiar, something he’s yearning for right now, and I cried because I didn’t feel any jealousy.
(A huge part of me wishes he would just leave me alone. Am I a terrible person for feeling this?)
Music: Paramore – Misery Business
THINGS THAT ARE ANNOYING ME:
1. Ms. TMI is determined to learn every single verse from Paramore’s song Misery Business, so she’s been playing it on repeat for the last forty-five minutes.
2. Someone threw up in the girls’ sink last night, and then someone else wrote COLLEGE underneath it in eyeliner.
3. My Denisemates and I are playing Assassin with our $10 Nerf guns. I’ve been living in a state of fear and panic every since the game began at 12 last night. Also, my target never leaves the TV room which has been designated the safe zone. He just sits there picking at his teeth and complains if we’re watching anything other than football. He’s from the south.
4. Wishy.
5. I’m not going home for the tiny break we have before spring semester. Instead I’m going back to the city and staying with a good guy friend of mine. Should be fun but I will miss home and I won’t be back until spring break in March. :/
6. Emile Hirsch not being nominated for an Oscar. Lame. Lame. Lame.
Music: Jimi Hendrix – Foxy Lady
The charger came!
I’ll be back from class around 1ish and then I’ll start writing an obnoxiously long blog about Mr.NG’s craziness (whose name should be changed to WishyWashy or Intense-Fear-of-Committment-Boy), TK’s exploits, and my own noteworthy incidents. Winter session means one class so that means more alcohol coupled with long bouts of downtime. Obviously, shit’s all ready hit the fan – more than once actually.
Music: Mika – Big Girl, You are Beautiful (this is the best song to dance to, big or small.)
Mr. NG, TK, and I were walking along the mud stained snow. NG was going to a party while me and TK were going to get low-key tipsy in a friend’s dorm room. The three of us rounded the corner when TK grabbed my elbow and whispered “oh, fuck…” Five seconds later she ran up to us, gesticulating, playfully screaming at us for not telling her we were going out. She’s NG’s friend but…no friend of mine. She’s too loud, too boisterous, too IN YOUR FACE. I think I’ll name her Spicy.
Anyway, she’s ranting on and on, and I’m trying to telepathically tell TK to run in the other direction. Suddenly, NG looks at my pained expression then Spicy’s big movements and he pushes her into the snow! (I can’t begin to explain how hilarious this was. She’s yelling, yelling, yelling, and then she’s flying through the air. I can now revel in the fact that my Boyfriend-y-ish-Person would do that for me.) Well, she thinks he’s playing around and runs after him laughing and I know a getaway when I see one, so I pull TK along and we get outta there fast.
I can’t go into this weekend’s drama just yet because it involves TK and I need to get his permission to post about it (very ambiguously) online. I will say that going to a small college is a bit reminiscent of high school because your business becomes everyone’s business within three days. Gossip flies but the difference is that no one makes fun of you for it. So everyone may know what freshman girls have slept with half the football team but no one stops hanging out with them. Also, to my chagrin, Spicy makes another unwanted appearance, in fact, she was the starter of the drama.
I suspect she’s going to be in this blog more and more. I mean, it’s me and her in her Facebook profile picture so I know she thinks our “friendship” is a long-lasting, invite-me-to-the-wedding kind of thing. ;-)
Music: Explosions in the Sky – Your Hand in Mine
If only things could be as simple as a Saturday night when music and friends are enough to keep me smiling the whole way through. Eleven of us managed to fit into a room for a single, along with five different kinds of shampoo and heels intended for our respective boys. But I was content singing Backstreet Boys with the girl from a Capella as they played drinking games that made no sense. The New Guy I’ve been seeing kept pinching my hips or shooting furtive glances at me while he poured shots for his friends. Each time my stomach dropped to my ankles and I stumbled around with the weight of it, completely drunk off of the knowledge that someone else is crazy for me like I am for him.
Thirty minutes and a bottle of Smirnoff later we were on the dance floor. The basement room was filled with bodies held together by sweat and shitty rap music. There were boys who couldn’t find the beat, boys who could manage to follow her hips, and the boys who stood against the wall, passing out “come hither” looks to any girl with enough cleavage. It’s the quiet, strategic flirtation that I quit being a part of the moment Mr. New Guy walked by me on campus and gave a smile that was only intended for me. I wouldn’t let myself find out if I could like him because Four keeps going through hot and cold moments. He likes me. He doesn’t like me. And so on.
But Mr. NG made it easy a month ago after days of skirting around the issue. He grabbed my hand and told me he liked me and that was that.
I’m finally letting myself live on the edge of my skin where I only do something because it feels good. There was no work being done this weekend. I let my eyes rest instead of keeping them open for hours and hours under the dim light of my desk lamp. I danced with someone who thinks I’m amazing and while I assure him that I’m just a girl he stares at me as if I’m much more than that.
I want to replay these last two days and wake up again at 8 a.m. with the stubble of his beard grazing my face.