July 10, 2002
Renovations
Heartsick. Yes. Heartsick. That's how I feel.
Argh.
Kels kept me company today and all but spoon fed the html for this layout to me. I love the photograph, I love the song, I love this layout.
Who knows, I might actually keep it for more than a month.
If you haven't read this, please do. I'm madly in love with it. So what if I'm my own biggest fan.
At any rate. Back to that heartsick business.
Mike called today while Kels and I were out swinging, something which I could only do for about three minutes before beginning to feel nauseated. I remember being a kid and swinging for hours. What the hell happened?
I couldn't very well call him back whilst she was there. That would have been rude, seeing as I'd already had to entertain Mallory on the phone for a few minutes. She has you half in a conversation before you even say hello, so there is no immediate dismissal of one of her phone calls.
He called back a little later and I answered it. And I felt all fluttery and delicious because I could talk to him, and then all sour when I learned that he would be going over to the phoneless/computerless house tonight. So there would be no calling him back. And I work tomorrow, which does not bode well for conversations-soon-to-be.
I just can't get enough of him right now. I'm still waiting for the parents to open their mouths with some sort of reprimand concerning yesterday's eight hour date, but none have yet to surface. Could it be that they have finally decided to let me alone?
I'm sure that isn't the case.
Mom will probably be pissed when she finds out we're dating-dating.
I shouldn't be scared of my mother at age nineteen. And yet I absolutely and wholeheartedly am.
311 just isn't as good when I'm not in his car with his hands in my hair. Who knew he could drive and massage a scalp at the same time.
Turns out we were both pretty crazy as kids. I thought I was a pioneer. He was convinced that not only was he telepathic, he could also levitate.
I'm keeping him.
I wasn't productive today. I ate mushroom and black olive pizza, though, and I listened to a fair share of Gregorian chants.
And now for something totally unrelated: half of the fucking Indiana hillbillies that come into the buffet manage to give the word 'two' not one but two syllables. It is something like 'te-ooo.' Anybody who lives in the Mid-West/South understands me, right?
It drives me fucking nuts.
311's 'Homebrew' is forever fused with his kisses.
Should I be afraid of liking someone too much too soon?
Instead I'm rather delighted.
I don't know which is worse.
I just can't wait to see him again.
astera at 11:38 p.m.