October 12, 2004

welcome to the dollhouse

ever feel like a cat toy being dangled on a string, bounced up and down, swatted at, pounced on and held in the jaws of some giant feline like some dead thing? every so often, something so fortuitous, so lucky, so brilliant, happens to me that i can just feel the universe smiling at me. the rest of the time, it exacts it revenge by batting me about like some toy, i believe. i have notoriusly wonky luck. case in point, i just accidently sent jim the link to my blog. *weeps into keyboard* and it had been such a fortuitous day, i was beginning to think that fate really did love me.

included for your reading pleasure, the conversation.
(italics are everything i said, parenthesis are comments i've added later.)

so without further ado, my fuckup and the aftermath:
me: http://trippingtoenlightenment.blogspot.com/
me: aaah!
me: oh fuck, that was a mistake.
me: meant to send that to another window.
me: and now i have panicked.
me: and you're gonna read all about yourself in my blog and i'm completely panicking.
me: *bangs head against wall repeatedly*
me: this has to be the universe's fee for making you drive to to campus and for getting guy in lab group to turn in my essay.
jim: its ok.
me: every time life turns convenient, i am forced to pay with humiliation of some sort...
jim: i won't read it if you don't want me to.
me: actually, you can if you want to. have i mentioned that i believe everything happens for a reason? you deserve to find out that i'm completely out of my fucking head, right?
me: oh, god...
jim: its ok, i know that you're crazy. jeese, don't worry, i'm not gonna judge you.
me: no, it's just i feel a royal idiot.
me: i stopped really worrying about people's judgement when i played "lonica mewinskey" in my eighth grade school play. (distraction! distraction!)
jim: odd character to play.
me: we did a pollitical satire.
me: this was during the clinton scandal? i think it was all terribly brilliant and daring, considering it was a little private school and we were 12.
jim: yeah i got that, with the close resemblance to monica lewinsky.
me: but, yeah, i got the coveted role of the president's mistress. well, "hairdresser" in our version. (good he's falling for it, now forget about the blog. i command you, forgeeet...)
jim: ow ow!
jim: wow that doesn't work as well when typed. i'm an idiot. (aw, cute. he's awkward)
me: the first scene of the play was me on my knees in front of the kid playing the president hemming his "kilt," which was actually one of our uniform skirts and therefore very self-referrential. (sexy distract!)
jim: oh wow....that's a big racey.
me: actually, during middle school, i believe that i saw every single one of my male friends cross-dress as the result of some school-sanctioned act.
(true. i think sadaf has photos.)
jim: which was what?
me: oh, no each was different.
jim: by the way, you're actually wrong about the phone conversation i had while i was helping you with calc. (distraction failed! abort!! abort!! fuck!)
jim: it wasn't masha. (whimper)
me: mm-hmm
jim: ok, you don't have to believe me.
jim: but its true.
me: *dissolves into horribly self-effacing laughter*
jim: anyways...
me: hey, at least i'm entertaining you.
jim: true.
jim: even if i end up sounding more singly-minded than i am.
jim: and my car is kinda hot, i know.
jim: hahaha
me: haha
jim: and i'm not going to europe with masha, i don't know where that came from. i'm going to spain with my family. i went to russia with masha.
jim: but that was over august. (stop talking stop talking)
me: um, yes. 'k.
jim: just editing, to use the word in a new context.
jim: haha, sorry.
jim: using me for my tv, huh? that's just funny.
jim: i'm sorry.
jim: i'm being an ass.
jim: but you have nothing to be embarassed about.
jim: its nice to know what a girl is thinking for a change.
me: ...alright. the explanation i was hoping to never have to give.
me: if i were asked about any of this information, i would have delved it up readily. i'm not terribly secretive by nature. hense the blog, hehe.
jim: i understand that.
jim: but as you put it:
me: some of the shit in there is written for the way it sounds, not its veracity
jim: 'which i kinda understand, as i don't think he can tell if i'm interested in him or merely tolerating his attentions.' (don't quote that, it's not fair, you can't use my words as a weapon against me! ow! ow! it hurts, mommy.)
me: but there's no way i'm telling which parts are what.
jim: haha, fair enough.
me: and i don't put everything i think in there, either.
jim: i'm sure you don't.
jim: i'm not accusing you of doing that.
me: so, uh, there's really no reason to take any of it badly, ever. (please?)
jim: exactly.
me: because if i take issue with something, i'll mention it. (or not, he'll find, when he works his way to last year's blogs...) ((oh fuck, he's gonna read that and then...*downward spiral of fear and paranoia*))
jim: that's why i was wondering why you were rather distraught over sending it to me.
jim: unless you were just acting again, which is possible.
me: no, that was pretty much a gut reaction.
me: because i am more forthcoming in that than i would be if left to my own devices. i would say anything in there truthfully if i were asked. doesn't mean i'd volunteer it. 0:)
jim: i understand.
jim: and i understand what you are trying to call my attention to.
jim: don't worry.
jim: i'm not so dense.
jim: i'm just a guy. (kat calls me "such a guy." ...i'm that dense.)
me: i've been told there there's little difference between the two...but who am i to judge.
me: and i said you could read it because i'd rather know you were than wondering when the strain of curiousity would break you, as it would me, in say, a week, and be all paranoid.
jim: we can talk tonight if you want. (i swear i could feel all parastalsis halt as my stomach literally spun itself into a knot.)
me: talk? okay some part of me just screamed.
jim: why?
jim: don't be so tense, no reason to scream.
me: sorry, while some people might have used this sort of "mistake" to say, force your hand, i am genuinely just a bit of an idiot. (big ol' idiot. *bangs head on wall*) that being said, i am so not mentally prepared to deal with anything right now, as i think i might have metaphorically "slipped a disk" just now.
jim: haha
jim: ok, whatever.
jim: if you don't want to define anything, that's cool.
jim: whenever you are ready to talk, we'll talk. if you're not, that's fine too.
jim: i think if i took myself as seriously as you do, i'd die of stress. :)
me: um, i don't take myself all that seriously. but i don't think i handle change very well. (at all.)
jim: ah. maybe that's it then.
jim: i hate it when people type the word 'um', it means that they're upset with whatever has just transpired.
me: um, no, like, that's not it at all.
jim: ;) jerk
jim: so what's up? do you want to talk about it or not?
me: not right now...i'm going to akwardly change the subject, instead.
me: sooo....how was your day?
jim: wow.
jim: smooth.
jim: my day was pretty good. i got a lot done.
jim: yours? (that's not changing the subject, that's throwing it right back at me! no, why? gaah!)
me: well, woke up reluctantly, ran around like a chicken without a head for a bit, saw michael moore speak - that was pretty cool, took a calc quiz - did pretty well i think, napped, ate a sandwich, accidently sent a link to my blog to the wrong person, panicked, blogged about it. (take that, bitch. oh wait, he's gonna read it anyways...shit.)
(it continues for a while longer, but ceases to be terribly interesting. i'm having lunch with him tomorrow, and i'm probably going to resolutely avoid having a serious conversation. this means i'll beak out the "techno eros" story, if i must. the big guns. i'm that big a chicken-shit.)

my friends' reactions to all this? sadaf: such a carla blooper. katherine: haha, that's so you.

(the title of this post is because i watched that movie last night with...guess who? jim, kat, and roosh. i think it's a suitable analogy for this.)


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