Music, as always, tying in to my thoughts. Isn't there some mental disorder where you think all the music you hear is relating to you and speaks to you? I seem to remember that. Katie and I were chatting today, discussing the idea that society tells you you should idolize and pine after your First, and how guilty you feel if you don't, so of course I was thinking about Mike, wondering how he was doing, what he was up to, and trying to remember what he looked like (hmm.) And then, just now, editing my music list on the laptop, first No Doubt's "Don't Speak" played (if we remember, Back In The Day, the song we sort of hooked up over), and directly after, No Doubt's "Ex-Girlfriend", my musical omega to that relationship. Gawd, now I feel awful I can't remember exactly what his face looked like.
So this tied into the rest of the day, thinking about people I haven't thought about in a while, whom I used to think about constantly and I've sort of forgotten about. Mike. Jessi. Steve. How are they doing? I used to have a lot of resentment about all these people, feeling that, pretty much, they'd all sold me out in one way or another. (Hmmmmmmmm.) But it occurred to me a few days ago that lately (months? Years? Time blurs so much; I can't remember anymore), I haven't been feeling angry. In fact, I pretty much haven't been angry about anything. Work's been much less important since school started, so I don't get upset about it anymore (except when they expect me to run the ViewPoint Committee and incidentally to fill them in on all the WSIB and Occupational Health & Safety legislation, dorks.) Was desperately scared about school, but not angry. Sometimes impatient with Mum, but not angry or hurt or resentful (THAT'S gotta be a first.) Ticked off with R sometimes, about throwing out a whole loaf of cheesebread (new! Although he did have MAJOR dental work, so it was probably just as well), but not angry. In fact, very proud he's done so much work on his demo reel lately. It seriously looks movie-quality (I'm sucha groupie.) And Mum's finally passed the Family barrier, and DIDN'T tidy up when R came over for Thanksgiving. Mum not tidying up for guests is unheard of (literally - we even had to clean up the house for the MAID), so this is a big step for her. I'm so proud ;)
So, in fact, it's very possible that for the first time in my life, I've reached a point where there's no-one to resent in the forseeable future. And I'm actually interested (sort of) in reconnecting, at least on a post-card level. And this time, it isn't even a case of "methinks the lady protesteth too much", is it? This time, I really mean it. And I'm surprised I mean it, but I do - I REALLY don't care about anyone's feelings towards me (at least, people I thought hated me.) Or rather - not that I don't CARE, so much as I don't MIND. As Kerry from the Strand once said, "Good for you for forgetting to remember!" Sounds like I'm growing up, yeah? Or, as C pointed out, maybe I'm not growing up, so much as "knowing what matters to me." Thoughts from the floor: is this the same thing?
Daddy told me I should join the Baker Street Irregulars, who meet in the Sherlock Holmes room at Metro Ref, and I'm inclined to agree I should. (I've never noticed before now that a) not only is Moriarty's first name never mentioned in the only ORIGINAL story he appears in, the last ORIGINAL Sherlock Holmes story, The Final Problem, but b) it is his BROTHER who is named James Moriarty. In the second volume "The Return of Sherlock Holmes," and certainly in pop-culture offshoots like "The League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen," Moriarty himself is named James. Ha-HAH! Checkmate, Conan-Doyle!) I totally would have boned Sherlock Holmes. He has every trait that attracts me to a guy: overly intellectual, ascerbic, moody, hard to please, "a confirmed woman-hater", and one cold, cold fish (and probably latently gay.) The Perfect Husband. Hehe. ;)
11:47pm
Ok, I seriously just gave myself a dehydration headache from laughing so hard I cried more than I cried at "Boys Don't Cry" at Rich's site, which I just noticed the link to in my links list (almost every one of which is totally out of date.) Scroll down 4 entries to "AN AMAZON.COM EDITORIAL REVIEW" and read his caption. Yeah. That last bit. I couldn't even spit it out to Rick on the phone, I just couldn't get past "Shit Yourself Again...", I was laughing so hard. My mom actually came downstairs cuz she thought I was crying (and I was, but from laughter.) I think I'm over-tired. You can always tell when I'm over-tired: I get dumb. And easy to please.
Cheque, please.
Readin' The Return Of Sherlock Holmes
Listenin' to Finger 11, "Good Times"
Thinkin' about finishing stupid project
Most recently I was 
