January 7, 2002
Fellowship Madness
The light in my room is unnatural, a mixture of candle and christmas light and lava lamp blobs. It's comforting while at the same time reflects the dimness of my spirit.
I'm so getting ready to rag. Feeling both crabby and fat, and obviously metaphorically inclined.
Though that's kind of a perpetual state for me.
Finally sold the Beetle today, fattening my pockets enough to afford to waste twenty dollars on the soundtrack to The Lord of the Rings. I'm like a fucking drug addict when it comes to that movie. If they would've had the old editions, I probably would've bought the second book in the series, too. I'm more than halfway through the first now.
So Kels and I went and saw the movie for the second time yesterday, and I'm in the middle of the book, and now the soundtrack has been playing in my room for about three hours and will likely be for seventy-eight or so more.
Clearly obsessive, psychotic behavior.
What can I say. I'm a lonely, lonely girl.
And did I mention I have a Legolas screensaver?
I miss him tonight. This time it is different, not the desperate, bawling-my-eyes-out lonliness I felt the last time he left. Now it is the sharp perception of the abscence of his warmth, of whisper filled nights on his couch, of his legs wrapped round mine and his hands tucking a blanket around me; of bowling escapades and alternately wanting to throttle him and kiss him, and being picked up when I fall, and tortured when I don't; driving around in the Honda, in the passenger seat beside him. One of my favorite places.
Yesterday I said something about the show I had been watching, the one that said man's natural instinct was to be in a partnership but that modern standards of living make it more difficult than it traditionally was. Do you know what I think is lovely about that?
That Ryan and I must really be in love. Because hundreds of years ago, or maybe not even that long, we would have still been together. Together together, for real forever together.
And that is a true comforting thought. To know that in another age I might have had him, if it turns out that in this one I cannot.
astera at baggins-esque