Beginning to see the light...

I've spent most of today thinking. I'm rereading Crime And Punishment, I'm researching candidates figure out who I'm trying to vote for, etcetera. However, this is a mere FRONT. I'm not really thinking at all. In fact, I'm busy avoiding thinking about a charmingly narrow variety of things. Yes, relationships. That's because relationships are not my forte.

To be fair, I can't help it if the boytoy is reserved and vague by nature. It's not even really a problem. I'm indecisive and vague by nature, so I can hardly complain! Unfortunately, it means I have to make some sort of effort, which I have slight problems motivating myself to do. Not even because of anything normal like "well, I don't know what I want," or "I don't want to spend effort on something like this." No, nothing like that. I like him, he likes me. We've discussed it. You'd think that that would be all, right? The end of overanalyzation and all. But no, apparently not.

So far, I'm pretty much the only person I know who thinks like this: "Okay, so he said he likes me. But what if he's LYING? What if he changes his mind? What if he's gay? What if he's secretly in love with KATY MEADOWS*? What if he gets KIDNAPPED BY ALIENS? What if he's already BEEN kidnapped by aliens? What if he IS an alien? What if he's a Scientologist? What if he's a cannibal? What if he's brain damaged? What if he doesn't believe in the continued existence of Elvis? What if he winds up being a brain-sucking piranha?" Um, not that I'm illogical or anything. Nope. No, I am not. Not even a little bit. Really. Why don't you believe me? Ugh. The irritating thing is even though I know all that's really really really silly, I have a hard time convincing myself that I should just TALK to him. Even though we talk a lot. I mean, it's pretty obvious that we're at least friends. Vaguely. It's obvious to other people, at least. So far I've resisted the urge to ask him if he's brain damaged. That seems a little creepy.

Obviously part of the problem is that this really ISN'T something I'm good at. I don't have any experience at this sort of thing, and I really, really, really don't like having to be honest. It's something that rarely interests me. Also I vaguely hate myself at the moment (usually I don't, honest!), which makes it a bit difficult to understand why other people wouldn't. (I'm trying to remember how much I adore my personality twin. She's definitely worthy of my adoration.) And I don't know, it seems a little ridiculous to do this sort of thing in the last month of high school. I mean, maybe it'll be worth it, but maybe it won't be. Jesus. Okay, so that last one isn't so much something I'm worrying about, but what I AM worried about is whether or not I'll be able to get my act together in three months. I'm a procrastinator, I suppose. I'm also a worrier. That must be a pleasant combination. I'm a procrastinating, lazy, dishonest, vague, indecisive, worrying perfectionist. Woooooow. Why do I have friends again? I suppose I'm vaguely amusing at times...

Anyway. Um. I suppose when IB tests are over it'll be easier? Maybe I should call him. I think I probably should. But I don't want to. Because what if it? OH WAIT THAT'S RIDICULOUS. I'm going to stop being stupid. I'll call him over the weekend. Probably on Sunday or something. Or maybe I won't. What a strong, definitive paragraph this is turning out to be. In my defense, I'm busy on Friday, I'm probably busy on Saturday, so Sunday really is the only day I can call him. Until it winds up being Monday. I'm not calling on a Monday. I should also probably wait until I'm in a better mood. It'd be kind of cruel to call and then be like "...so are you being serious?" (The answer would be "what?" in a perplexed, incredulous voice. This conversation, um, may have already taken place. Well, one like it. I hate being straightforward, which is really something I need to work on. It'd be kind of cruel to make him sit through another one, though! Jeez. There's only so much suffering I can inflict in one week, and he's taking some IB tests. Boo.)

Eenie-meenie-minie-moe...

In vaguely related news, I must admit, it's kind of nice to discuss families with other people. Mostly because it was really nice to hear that my mom scares Kristen. Don't get me wrong - when she's good, she's great! I love her to bits and pieces. But when she's bad, she's awful. I still feel so guilty saying that. I suppose I could gloss it over, but the more I think about it, the more I can trace a lot of my problems back to her. Maybe I was always destined to be completely screwed up, but she definitely didn't help. Pfft, that probably comes across as whiny, but it's unfortunately true. I mean, I used to be able to ask for what I wanted or needed so easily, but now I just... can't. It really does take a lot of effort.

Eh, one step forward, two steps back. 'tis not to say that I shouldn't be taking responsibility for my own issues, but it's kind of interesting to see where they came from. Wherever they're from, they're mine now. (Ha, part of me right now is saying that if I had been a better person, things would be better. I can't quite decide if that's my precious "blame the victim" mentality or if it's really true. Or something else. I don't want to be a victim, so I'm not. But that doesn't automatically put me into the, uh, opposite category either, right? I don't even know what I mean. Blah.) Mm. No matter.

Aw. Too bad my semi-boytoy is adorable, Deerhoof is adorable, and The Mouse And His Child is adorable. I love adorable things! Maybe I'll just stay home and listen to Deerhoof. Deerhoof is almost too cutesy and twee, but I love cutesy and twee things. Plus it's really, really weird. It's perfect singing music! Ugh, I keep listening to cutesy twee things for no real reason. I'm not actually joking when I tell people that I have no reliable sort of taste in music. It's true. I don't.




*What? Isn't everyone in love with Katy Meadows? No way. Katy Meadows is sex. She has no soul. We can all see where this is going.