The Flesh is Weak.

In the rotation of crops there was a recognised season
for wild oats; but they were not to be sown more than once.
~ Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence

Americans have this saying about "sowing wild oats." It's supposed to be that time in your life where you're allowed to do whatever the hell you want, and not be held responsible for it. My ass. So deceptive these little sayings are.

Yet again, I find myself in the position of making an important decision. Again, part of me says yes, the other part says no. I've already done the deed in my heart a thousand times, so does it matter if I actually physically do it? There again is the deceptive reasoning. I have never in my life wanted to do something so wrong so badly. Situations in my life have been similar, but there was always a justifiable, or 'understandable' reason to acquit me of some of the blame. This is completely different. There's nothing to blame it on, nothing good enough anyway.

I think I just hate being an adult. Making your own decisions, and shaping your own character is too difficult. Like, when you're a child...all your decisions get made for you. Ironically, this is when your most important decisions will have no real bearing whatsoever. Whether or not you should eat the applesauce is not going to determine the rest of your life or who you become. Outside of being a possible apple lover.

But I guess, as they say, that's life. Wish me luck.

tired as fcuk.

Nothing like coming home to a room flooded with toilet water. Yes, my idiot suitemate didn't know how to prevent water from overflowing from a toilet bowl. You turn the water guage off, that's it...yes..clockwise. My God. Now my room is dank and musty with the remnants of whatever it is she had for lunch. Yum. Then she has the AUDACITY to keep the air dryer plugged into the BATHROOM outlet (so no one can use the bathroom) and drying her room. She then proceeds to give it to me at 12am, saying, it's kind of late...but i'm sure it's not that noisy. WTF? Like I give a shit whether I keep you awake, when the floor of my room is covered in your waste? Did you not just finish dry out your own room? Why can't I dry mine?

I've been cleaning and washing for four hours now, and I'm still not done. I'm obsessive-compulsive about being around ickyness. And I have two finals tomorrow. Yay for me.

I swear to you, tomorrow's Hilltop Headline is going to read "Residents of Suite 103E VIOLENTLY MURDERED by enraged suitemate. Don't say I didn't tell you.

Exes.

"The most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous."
~ Sex and the City

Phone rings. You pick up. It's your ex. You smile, you say hi and then try not to vomit because of all the crap coming out of your mouth. Like "How are you?", "I'm good, everything is good". Please. Hypocrisy is never more acceptable than when you're speaking to an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend. Especially when the break up wasn't that great. It's only after it happens a few times, and you both get over yourselves and your need to appear okay, that any real conversations happen. Then when they do, more crap comes out and the ensuing conversations are as unproductive as the fake ones. If you're lucky this doesn't happen. If you're like me, these conversations turn into a vicious cycle that appears to be never ending: One day the conversation is good, the next time it's great, the third time there's an argument, the fourth time there's a bigger argument...and then we start from step one all over again.

It's not that I particlarly enjoy repeating the same shit over and over again, it's just that I haven't had the courage, or the clarity of thought to move past it. That's changing though. Like, for real. Every time we speak something feels different...and I think it's me. I mean, don't get me wrong...sometimes I feel nostalgic, and stuff. There's nothing like the familiarity of an old relationship. And when it was good, it was great. But that's all over now. The sooner the both of us realise that, the sooner we can move on.

Not that I want another relationship in my life or anything. I think that's the last thing I need. But I do think that I need to move on. I know who I want to be, and it's not the person that I was then. It's far from the person I am now also. Hopefully when I get there, I'll be ready for a real relationship. Till then, my relationship with myself is my one and only.

Lessons Learned.

"A mistake is to commit a misunderstanding."
~ Bob Dylan

Sometimes things happen to you that you never dreamed would. And I don't mean in a good way. In an instant, honkey-dorey-ness can turn into a steaming pile of shit. The following is a list of things I learned from an unfortunate situation that just happened to take place between 2 and 4am this morning, just prior to and after a crazy joyride to Georgetown...and also when I had some serious Finance homework to do:

1. Don't talk about people. Ever.
2. Don't make jokes around stupid people.
3. Certain jokes are only okay within certain circles.
4. Don't assume a circle exists where it doesn't.
5. A woman scorned is a sad thing.
6. Panic incites stupid behaviour.
7. Don't blame other people for something you technically caused.

That's about it. And I thank the understanding victim of all this who was mature enough to understand what went down. Question though, what do you do when the woman scorned is your friend? Do you hate her because she unnecessarily dragged you into the pile of shit? Or do you pity her? Right about now I'm feeling both those sentiments. Good thing I don't believe in hell.

Which way?

One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree. "Which road do I take?" she asked. "Where do you want to go?" was his response. "I don't know," Alice answered. "Then," said the cat, "it doesn't matter."
~ Lewis Carroll

My father has a way of getting through to me that no one else does. On our way to the airport, going back to DC after Winter Break, he started one of his usual talks. They're normally the kind of conversations where he asks a lot of questions, and I give a lot of vague answers, and "I don't know"s. That might sound a bit familiar to the people who know me well enough. Somewhere along the way, he asked me if I remembered the above passage from Alice in Wonderland. I said no, wondering how come I'd never read that book, though I know the story. After he told it to me I was kind of silent for a while. "Do you get it?" was the next question. I said yes. I did get it, and it got to me. That was one damned smart cat. Then he said something else that got to me even more: that the opposite is also true. Leave it up to Daddy to fry my brain at 4am on the Churchill-Roosevelt Highway. I love my daddy.

It was like our own little indian version of The Wonder Years. Heh. Seriously though, I remembered this conversation of ours recently while having another interesting conversation about life with a friend of mine, and somehow it hasn't faded away since. I also started reading Alice in Wonderland.

In my case, the prevailing tines in my fork tend to be right and wrong. My conclusion is that if I don't know which way I want to go, then it doesn't matter how I live. Additionally, if I'm not living rightly...then it doesn't really matter which way I want to go. Brings a whole new meaning to the road to hell being paved with good intentions, doesn't it? Not that I believe in hell. But that's not the point.

What's the moral of my story? Go read Alice in Wonderland.

What they don't tell you when you're a kid is that you are Alice...and Wonderland is your life.

Thank You

I expect to pass through life but once.
If therefore, there be any kindness I can show,
or any good thing I can do to any fellow being,
let me do it now, and not defer or neglect it,
as I shall not pass this way again.
~William Penn

There are nice people, and then there are nice people. Some peope are just nice because they have to be, or because they are expected to be, or because that's what mom and dad pounded into their brains when they were younger. Then there are those rare people who just have kindness in their character...the kind of people who'd do something nice and never tell a soul.

Recently, someone was nice to me when I wasn't even looking. And that gesture made me feel, for the lack of a better word...nice. It wasn't because it resulted in my getting something that I wanted, but because of the thought. Someone thought of me for however fleeting a moment and did something sweet that they didn't have to. And that person doesn't even know me. It feels strange to explain why what they did mattered, because somehow it doesn't do it justice...but I had to try.

I guess this is just my way of saying thanks, Nick...for what you gave me, and for what you've shown me. I do wish I'd gotten the chance to get to know you, and I hope everything works out for you, for real.

I admire your courage and your strength in places where I could never have it.

Thank You.

Nothing to do but frown.

"Rainy days and mondays always get me down"
~ The Carpenters

Today it rained. It's Monday too. Hallelujah.

We went to Starbucks, I studied Finance a little...drank an overpriced cafe latte, then went to Safeway. The only good part was when I got to return to Meridian Hill Hall for a couple minutes, and by pleasant surprise I ran into Raymond, who still runs the store. Sigh. That was the best dorm ever. Such good times.

Now I have Productions & Operations Management homework to do again. Somehow I always blog before that class. Coincidence? I think not.

All in all it's been a pretty shitty day. I keep promising myself that I'll stop saying that word. Never works out. But seriously, the general mood was just...shitty. And I'm not even sure why. I blame the rain. And the fact that it's Monday.