LJMeme.com Crush Meme

Number of crushes on me so far: 2

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So this is the first time one of these has ever had a number in it, so I’m posting in spite of the fact I know one of them is Zok being a whore.

Artist of the Day: Sigur Ros. The music isn’t to everyone’s tastes, but this link in particular is a video available on-line worth taking a peek at. “Synopsis: Differently-abled angels frolic on the sloping, verdant Icelandic terrain as trancy Eno-esque sounds pulsate.”

if I am wrong, I will have some serious issues

Today is apparently The Day of the Telemarketer. Four phonecalls before 9 o’clock this morning. My mother just called. Odd conversation. She just now accidentally hung up on me, but not after opening with, “Translink just called. They said they’ve found Robins buspass in a bag with a pair of women’s runners and bra”. It’s an odd combination. Now, considering that A. I am the only female who spends any time with Robin, B. He has been off to camp since Monday, C. I don’t own any runners and D. I only have two bras and they are right here and accounted for thank you very much, this strikes us as being a bit odd. The logical conclusion is that he left it one the bus perhaps on Friday and someone else has been using it. Still, the fiction possibilities are fairly amusing.

The last two nights I’ve been walking home at one thirty in the morning from far away. It’s an odd habit to develop, but I’m considering it. It’s a pleasant walk. I think I need to be starting off earlier. In time enough for when I walk under that lit window I don’t feel rude for throwing pebbles. No hesitation, just a look up then a look down to scoop up little rocks. I haven’t seen certain people in awhile and it would be nice to go hit them up for company. Play catch-up over the ice-cream I have so handily in my bag. If it’s not your favourite, you’ll taste it anyways. *grinning* Because, well, you like me back.

Ah the glories of infatuation. Such an odd thing to sprout in the heart. A little crimson plant whose roots grow deep quickly, but the flower, it grows like a silk balloon filling with heat. In little time, the blossom slowly pulls completely out to gracefully float away, roots vanishing, beautiful to watch.

This week is SinCity and the European will be there. It’s been telling in how my reactions to him differ from time to time. When I was completely unattached, I could barely look away. He spoke so intelligently in the line-up, his voice elegantly phrasing his thoughts. He caught me worldly. It was possible to see my attraction for him. I was a bashful girl, shy and blushing. His face and form, I danced for him. Told his wife before we left that I thought he was beautiful. The next time I saw him, I was already on-line with Gavin and he made far less of an impression. Still beautiful, but I believe I was less interested soley because I was interested in someone else. He is no different. Still handsome, still smoothly confident. It was fascinating to notice. My monogamy apparently encompassing. I’ve never had such a perfect example to point at.

As if to spite what I’m pondering, I’m going to be bloody this weekend. I’m going to be wanting. We talked the last time I saw him. He’s asked me to dance with him and I will. I will enjoy it, but I suspect the entirety of my attraction will be gone this time. I am already spoken for. I speak for me. I say that I love already. I think the hormones won’t connect. I think they’re going to be directing themselves soley at Gavin. I think my monogomy is more ingrained than the animism.

It will be an interesting evening of self-discovery. Either I will confirm what I think I may have always known or I will shatter it.