Straight No Chaser

Xeno as Prefix for

GOD DAMN IT.

had written this, four or five paragraphs of it, long ones, and accidentally hit that cursed backspace button. and it's fucking gone.

and, that was it. here come the tears. too long and too overwhelming a day to have to deal with the added irritation of a self-aborted journal entry.

tuesdays will be this semester's hell day, it turns out. one thing after another all day, work and class and work and class and class and extras, plus today it rained, all day, unrelenting torrential rain that kept me stuck in one building or another--all day. and yet. and yet, somehow i still wound up with wet ankles, all day. i had to hang the jeans from the bedroom door, to air them out, to stop them from lending that wet-jeans smell to everything in the hamper.

strange was great. fab. there was more. it got deleted.

my roommate is going to get us blackballed from every food delivery place in the atlanta metropolitan area. she's already had over-the-phone shouting matches with two store managers, and is already planning an irate call to a third in the morning. which is fine, i don't mind her crusade to force respect from food delivery workers, but when it gets to that hungry part of the semester, when one has to order out in the middle of the night, i'm going to want options.

and so. i've got kill bill vol. 1 playing in the background (yes, it's one of those nights), trying not to let it make me feel violent, waiting on a phone call, wishing for bedtime.

actually, i don't have one of those perfect, idealized romances where one kiss heals every wound. i don't have confidence in the sanctity of our love, and i worry every day that i'm not doing the best i can. i'm like everyone else, just optimistic. sorry if i ever projected anything different.

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