solitary_summer: (Default)
Er. I feel like I should be updating with, um, actual words, maybe? The thing is, recently I whenever (rarely) I manage to type a couple of half-sentences, I invariably stop and wonder why I even bother, because it never seems worth saying, much less inflicting on others. Words dry up and fade away before the (metaphorical) ink has even dried.

I've also always thought being able to see things from different perspectives was a good thing, but I'm actually starting to wonder. Because for me it's almost too easy, comes so very natural, no effort at all. It's a lot easier than actually making a judgement, having a decided opinion on something. I do draw my lines, but even then, I'm mostly still able to at least sort of understand where it all comes from, however offensive to me it might be. I don't know what kind of person that makes me. And as a result mostly I tend to just... hover in the middle of everything, options and possibilities and motives and reasons and histories and... fade, in a way, as a person. Transparent. At the very least life must be easier and more clear-cut if your brain isn't wired that way. When not almost every opinion comes with so many 'but's and qualifications that in the end it doesn't even seem worth stating.


Yesterday, after much postponing, I finally got to see the Star Trek movie with G.. And okay, let's not touch the whole lack of women in that film, and maybe I didn't like Kirk a whole lot (seriously, that man should have ended up on the Darwin Awards list instead of in a captain's chair...) but every one else was completely adorable and the whole thing thoroughly enjoyable. (I know, Vulkan turns into a black hole, billions die, Spock's mother dies, big drama & whatnot, but in the end it's the warm fuzzy feeling of nostalgia and childhood memories, and Der Weltraum. Unendliche Weiten, *tadüüütadadadaaa*... that lingers.) I'm still trying to figure out who Karl Urban reminds me of, though. The LotR trilogy is apparently the only movie I've seen him in, but the thing is, every time he appeared on screen, I was thinking 'Russian', not 'Rohan', and I've no idea where that association might come from.

Had three spritzers afterwards and actually a lot of fun geeking out, in, ironically, the same pub where we had that huge blow-up years ago. It was really nice, which makes me hope things won't become all tangled & complicated again...

Now what to do about this urgent urge to watch some old school Trek... *g*

solitary_summer: (Default)
::sigh:: Yesterday I had a notice in my post-box for some package to fetch from the post-office, and since as far as I'd remembered I hadn't ordered anything I was kind of confused bordering on the intrigued... Anonymous admirer? Mysterious surprise gift? And it turned out to be large. And from some art gallery in Berlin, and I was even more confused, and more intrigued, until I opened it, and it turned out to be the picture G. told me about having bought on ebay a while ago, which for some reason had been sent to my address. Either I fucked up the last time I payed a purchase for him with my paypal account (although I can't see how), or (in view of our recent situation) this is some weird ploy of staying in contact, or getting to visit me on the pretence of fetching his package. Which means I have to drag the damn thing to work tomorrow so that he can fetch it from there.

So I had to tell him that, in the same e-mail I told him I wasn't, am not, and wouldn't be interested, after he ignored every single thing I said in three emails, sent me one e-mail to say he was hurt, another asking me (no sorry, no nothing) to proof-read his latest manuscript after I'd just explicitly told him that what what ruined our friendship for me back then was how he totally discarded me as a person but thought I was still useful enough to correct his manuscripts, and after I wrote another still too long and too emotionally involved e-mail sent me a one-line reply 'Ich mag dich!!' (I like you!!). I give up. I tried to talk to him, but apparently it's impossible, and I don't know what else to do anymore.

I'm not proud of myself, but apparently it needed to be done. (Anonymously commenting luker? Still out there? Happy now?)

Again with the ::sigh::.

solitary_summer: (Default)
Why do I get all the relationship drama without ever getting a relationship? That's just not fair.

(Angry e-mail exchange with G., which I actually wrote a long post about this morning, but decided to scrap, because I'm not exactly proud of my part in it either. I've been too much of a coward for too long and put off addressing issues I should have addressed a long time ago, and it isn't exactly fair that he got all the pent up frustration of years a propos almost nothing.)

At least I've mostly stopped wondering if that makes me a horrible human being, because if I'm bad with people, which I'll be the first to admit, he's even worse.

solitary_summer: (girl (© clive barker))

And G. manages to make me feel guilty again. Perhaps I should feel guilty. But: He checked himself out of the hospital instead of waiting for surgery there, and then called me at work yesterday ('You're always working?' Duh. M. on a three week holiday. I might have mentioned it, like, ten times or so.), and wanted me to visit him in the evening, and hey, could I bring him chocolate and mineral water. I ended up asking if he really needed anything, and did not go. (There are other people taking care of him, too. The tap water is perfectly drinkable, it's not as if he's going to dehydrate.) I'm aware of how unkind that was, and I'm beating myself up for it, at least slightly (and feel guilty about the 'slightly'), but right there and then I felt totally overwhelmed and just could not deal. Three weeks where I'm the one responsible (R. doesn't really count), right when I'm trying to sort out a problem with two expensive books I never ordered, but got anyway, after a weekend that for all purposes didn't exist, G. related drama the week before, and four times two hours of How-To-Better-Sell-Stuff seminar before work next week. I couldn't even feign politeness and/or kindness.

There are people I'd do it for, no questions asked, no whining. It's just that this is the guy who totally dismissed me as a person (except that I could still proof-read his papers, and should appreciate the favour) when I told him I was bisexual, which for some reason in his head apparently added up as not going to sleep with him, or not going to fall in love with him. I don't know what he wants from me. I never felt he respected or even took seriously anything that was important to me. I wasn't happy when he started dropping by again, and I very much suspect he does it because no boyfriend or girlfriend has materialised yet (or maybe to get me to proof-read again, who knows), and the whole situation makes me slightly uncomfortable.

What bothers me is that my energy level is so low, that the mere thought of having to go and buy stuff and spend the evening with G. instead of being able to go home and crash threw me in a state of slight panic. It wasn't such a big thing, after all. I should have done it. I should have been able to do it. It was the same with my sister's last boyfriend - it took longer, but at one point I just wasn't able to deal with the post-break up depression, the related issues, the constant calls, just stopped answering the phone.

I guess I suck as a friend and as a person.

Is the problem that I feel I should be able to fix things, and am scared that I won't be able to? Why do I always have to keep people at a safe distance, and back away when someone wants anything from me... am I too wrapped up in my own issues, depression, whatever, that I almost entirely lack the ability to be sympathetic or helpful? Or am I being over-dramatic again?

solitary_summer: (letheo (© clive barker))

::grumbles:: The G. situation (especially the part where somehow I ended up being the responsible one, the one with the apartment keys and the one whose telephone number the people in the hospital have, and stuff) gave me a nervous headache and slight nausea the whole day, left work at three, visited him & brought him his cash, which I kind of forgot/didn't want to leave in an unattended bag yesterday; his leg is in a cast for the time being, he's bored & wants to go home. ::sigh:: Promised to look in again on Saturday, and bring more stuff, although I really hope he doesn't choose to see any, er, romantic motives behind this, because I'm still slightly miffed at whatever emergency room visit-cum-dinner date he'd apparently imagined for yesterday.

I probably sound slightly (or not so slightly) callous about the whole situation, but there's a lot of not-so-good history between us, and also? Person who smashes himself up while drunk, when he's already had other minor accidents while drunk, knows he's got an alcohol problem (once you actually consider lying on the information sheet for the anesthesiologist... told him to be honest; I hope, forcefully enough.)... let's just say there are situations and/or persons where I'd feel more genuinely sympathetic.

Although, after an hour visiting there I'm seriously, incredibly grateful that my body is functioning, that I'm healthy and up & walking about without casts, tubes & plastic bags to drain blood (ick!) or screws sticking out anywhere.
solitary_summer: (Default)

Gah. So G. calls me at work in the afternoon and asks if I'd go to the emergency room with him, because apparently he had an accident with his bike while drunk yesterday night and his foot hurts. Badly. And frankly I'm less than enthusiastic, because we've not even been friends over the last year or so and, why me? , or more to the point, why do his drinking habits and stupidity have to result in me being forced to spend a couple of hours in the emergency room after a work day? Oh and, could I bring him some a bottle of Coke, he needs something to drink.

So I buy the Coke and get there, and it doesn't look pretty, but he seems optimistic (despite not being able to walk at all and the foot being badly swollen... men ::eye-roll::) and wants to have dinner with me afterwards, so I'm not the person to mention the possibility/likelihood of broken bones and torn ligaments, but, to cut a long story short, that's pretty much what it is; there has to be surgery, but some superficial wound needs to heal first. So I take a taxi back to his flat, pack some things, deposit the canary with the neighbour, try and fail to call his parents, because he's got the wrong number, take a taxi back to the hospital, leave the bag there, because he's not in the ward yet... finally get home, write an e-mail to his boss...

God, I'm so, so tired.

Also, I expect some serious karma points....
solitary_summer: (candy (© clive barker))

Hm... I think I may have been a little harsh (read: direct) with G., but he's sending the manuscript to a scientific magazine, so what am I supposed to do, lie, correct a couple of typos and tell him how great it is? Plus, I spent hours of my day off on this thing, head-desk'ed, despaired, tried to make painfully literally translated sentences and the evidence of dictionary-overuse a little more English... so I think I've earned a moment of ugly satisfaction.

Morning run. Work. Lasagna. Moderate guilt.

[Also, more holiday picture spam... ]

solitary_summer: (boat (© clive barker))

Tired. Work, much as always, boring.

I really should watch the Band of Brothers DVDs H. lent me, seeing as I specifically asked for them, before Angel S5 arrives & distracts me again. Don't particularly want to, partly because I don't really want to watch anything WW2 related right now, partly because when someone expects me to read or watch something, my brain gets all contrary and obstinate and refuses to touch the thing at all.

Also, dark, orange-flavoured chocolate. ::veryguiltysigh:: I shouldn't be eating chocolate. As G. so helpfully pointed out recently, I seem to have gained a few kilos I could stand to lose again. He's right, but still... there was the urge to throw books. I occasionally appreciate his honesty, but he seriously needs some kind of filter installed between his brain and his mouth. You just don't tell a woman she's gained weight, chances are she already knows, and has angsted and guilt-tripped over it.

ETA: Also? Back to mostly not liking With Teeth, apparently. Strange. I was sober when I had this sudden fit of fondness, I swear.
solitary_summer: (Default)

When your days-off become more aggravating than the average work-day... Horse lost a shoe - no wait, that would have been too easy. Horse stepped on one shoe with the other hoof, ripping out most of the nails, but still leaving enough in for the thing to remain semi-attached to the hoof. I don't know how to deal with this kind of thing. Slight panic, until I found someone with a mobile phone, and he actually had the tools and got the shoe off...

::exasperated sigh::

Why me?

G. did a lecture and I thought I'd do the nice, friendly thing for once & go... I actually wanted to skip, but he was so nervous and. So. I went. Again, ::sigh::. Besides my general lack of interest in the subject and the fact that I was already familiar with at least two thirds of it, from proof-reading some of his articles, back when I still did that, it was bad. Badly delivered, confusing, &c.


It's rather interesting how my brain can reason itself out of an opinion. Or even a rant.

Not that I actually participate, but I occasionally do lurk around fandom-y things and what recently irritated me was the argument that supposedly puts an end to every discussion: It's only fiction, and god help you if you should be so unreasonable as to question this at all. Now obviously it's not the legal aspect that bothers me, and I'm certainly not starting to cry for censorship, but I do have a problem with the underlying assumption that someone's writing (or reading) is entirely disconnected from the rest of the personality, from 'real life'; that the written word does not and cannot have any bearing on real life, because it's just fiction, words, ideas.

'Nothing betrays a man like his book.' says Stephen Maturin in Desolation Island, and this is something I tend to agree with. Obviously the nature of the relationship between someone's writing and the other parts of their life will vary from person to person, but some kind of relationship surely does exist? Our reading preferences, our writing, our fantasies and kinks are part of ourselves, after all, and I would argue that a lot of subconscious elements do indeed go into writing.

Maybe I'm weird (and maybe I've got no life), but books are important to me. When I'm visiting someplace I always look at the bookcases, if I get the chance. Perhaps writing reveals even more, because even if you try to lie, to disguise yourself, to be entirely different from your 'real life' persona and 'real life' experiences, the lie and the disguise are still yours.

Books can be influential and inspirational, they can be trite, boring and shallow, or anything in between those two extremes, just like people.

I don't see any clear demarcation line between 'life' and 'fiction', and while codes of law in some cases have to draw one, even this is subject to change.

Then of course I start to really think about the whole thing, art, life, how one influences the other, and I give up, because there's no way I can solve or prove anything here, and maybe the 'It's only fiction' people are right after all, and I am weird. End of attempted rant. Sometimes I really hate my brain and its exasperating tendency to constantly argue itself into a state of dead-lock.
solitary_summer: (Default)

Planned nothing for New Year, except possibly sleep through it. Not depression, rather a mixture of exhaustion, sickness and a deep-rooted dislike of any occasion that involves too many people hell-bent on being cheerful together.

G. wanted us to do something, but for once I managed to tell him 'no' outright. I resent his obvious assumption that I would say yes, never mind that we've barely seen each other during the last year (just like he always seemed to assume that because I was/am single I'd come around eventually); and New Year, alcohol and all kinds of grievances likely to be brought up doesn't strike me as a particularly good idea. And with him, I'd hate to do something that could under any circumstances be mistaken as encouragement... I may be insane to chase away what may well be the only person to be interested in me sexually/relationship-wise, but to be honest I don't even miss the friendship, if friendship it was. There never was any real connection... I don't expect someone to agree with me on everything, or even most things, but I do want to be seen and accepted for who I am and he had a tendency to dislike/laugh at/ignore/&c. almost everything I believe is central to myself, my personality; it kept me wondering which image of me in his mind he really liked, because it obviously wasn't me at all.

I just want two and a half days of peace, quiet, sleep, reading and more S2 Buffy.

Eat lychees.

On the plus side... Vienna is amazingly, incredibly beautiful in winter sunlight.. there really are no words to describe it. H. dropped by and brought us donuts at work yesterday. Some figure-skating gala I caught on tv yesterday: if you think about it, it's amazing what kind of beauty the human body can create. And what really cheered me up and almost succeeded in making me like my job again is that quite a few of our regular customers, who came in during the last few days would wish me a Happy New Year, shake my hand, thank me, give me cough lozenges... sweet, really.
solitary_summer: (Default)

I'm giving up on the presidential elections. BFW isn't an option and Fischer is becoming les of one every day. Too much too vague blahblahblah, too obviously intent on not offending or alienating anyone, and apparently he'd make Haider vice-chancellor if there were 'no other options'. Or, one might guess, if it were politically opportune for the SPÖ. I'd like to think even Klestil would've balked at that.

Not that the office is all that important anyway. I'll vote invalid, I guess.

A while ago I toyed with the idea of voting for the social democrats at the next elections for the first time in my life, because it looked rather like voting green would mean having the same ÖVP faces back in government. However, after recent events it seems even likelier that voting socialist would mean having the FPÖ back again, and at least from an ethical point of view this is worse.

*sigh*. Gah.


On a lighter (and brighter) note, I caught a report on tv today about an arab girl playing in Israel's girls' soccer team. Even if it's probably not all as easy as it was made out to be, this still seemed right in many ways....


I'm surprised how relieved I am for having G. out of my life for the time being, and by my decision... I may (should) e-mail him one of these days and explain, but I really want to keep it this way. It's not that I'm blaming everything that went wrong in my life on him, but I didn't realise how much this constant vague guilt dragged me down, made me insecure.
solitary_summer: (

Strange day... sunny, about 20 (!) degrees (whatever happened to spring?), snow melting fast, but no vegetation out whatsoever, except for the odd bud if you looked closely; the landscape nothing but shades of grey and brown. Riding on paths that were alternately still deeply covered in snow mush or had turned into gurgling rivulets. Quite romantic, actually. The horse, who normally shies away from every puddle, anxious not to wet her feet, bravely stomped through it all, but it wan't exactly fun.

From Sunday, mostly. I'm lagging behind my own life...  )

I probably won't have to move, but I actually want to... a few more square meters, now that I can afford them, possibly a small separate sleeping room, space enough for a tv of my own. The thing is, though, if I want to move out, I should start to invest a little more energy into looking; one way or the other I have to decide until May. Like, actually looking at apartments, instead of deciding beforehand that I wouldn't like them anyway.

Note to self, consider this a kick in your butt.
solitary_summer: (Default)

Hu. I still don't know what possessed me to agree to go to a ball (ball! I'm not a ball kind of person. I don't even dance - unless extremely drunk, and mostly not even then.) with some co-workers... (Most likely the conviction, tinged with not a little desperation, that I can't hide in my snail shell forever; that for the sake of my sanity I need to be a little more sociable occasionally.)

Spent € 100.- on an outfit (skirt and top) that is really quite perfect, and there's nothing that quite equals the relief and satisfaction of finding the item of clothing you desperately need in the first shop, the first thing you try on. So the skirt needs shortening a little, but otherwise... very nice indeed.

I still need a hair-cut, a hand bag & nail polish and some basic minimal make-up things... :: groans :: Better be worth it. This is so not my kind of thing...

In other news... :: sigh :: there are three mails from G. I still haven't looked at yet, but really I'm not in the mood for this kind of drama right now. I'm aware I was rude and acting out of rather petty jealousy, but I was (still am) in the process of deciding whether to pay for another semester's worth of self-delusion and mostly coming to the conclusion that it'd be a waste of money, and really, really not in the mood for proof-reading his manuscripts during the last days of my holiday.... Drama apparently ensues, but I refuse to be part of it... I don't need this in my life right now.
solitary_summer: (Default)

Truly messed up day. Had a minor beakdown at work, hiding behind the cashier desk, crying on the phone with my mother.
Then managed to also depress G., who dropped by and said I should try to switch my diss to something ethnological-sociological about B5, seeing as I was so fond of it and it wasn't all that different from multiculturalism in the Achaemenid empire. No chances for any kind of paid job there, either, obviously. I told him (in so many words) I was looking for a perspective, not a hobby. Might have brought him down a little...
It was a kind offer, but not what I'm looking for.

It snowed again. And I'd thought I'd be able to take out my bike again tomorrow.

B5:2 is at the post office (notification in the post-box), which, obviously, is closed tomorrow. Figures.
solitary_summer: (Default)

(This goes back a few days...)

Sometimes I hate dreaming about love; sex (not that it happens all that often). Like yesterday morning. Lost much of the context, but that kiss is still very (uncomfortably) real - almost physical. And what does that say about my life. Sad.

On a not entirely unrelated note...

Cut for personal issues presumably of rather limited interest to anyone else. )
solitary_summer: (Default)

:: points to mood icon :: seriously so...

I'm sure there are kind and helpful policemen out there, and it's just coincidence that every single one I come across seems to be a fascist in the making who uses his uniform to make up for whatever his live is lacking in in other departments and enjoys the power it gives him in ways that make me decidedly uncomfortable.

For fuck's sake, we work door-to-door, so to speak, would it have hurt him to ask me politely not to lock my bike to the signpost? ... rather than threaten to have it cut off and thrown away as junk the next time. Do they think that because they carry a gun common politeness or even the barest minimum standards of human interaction can automatically be suspended?

And G*.... the less said, the better. I was amused before... now I'm pissed off. And vaguely annoyed that he forces me to have this whole highly theoretical drama. I'm coming out as, what, theoretically, potentially, probably bisexual. :: rolleyes :: This is so *typically* me, I don't know whether it's more pathetic or funny. Shouldn't I at least have something (or someone, rather) to show for all this fuss?

Maybe it'd have been the friendly thing to let the subject drop, but after a rather exhausting work day I didn't feel very charitable and I've had enough of this lets pretend it didn't happen and never, never an apology shit from my father to last me a lifetime. So I chose to make it very clear that he's the one with a problem, not I. If I embarrassed him by letting him know I told M*... no, I'm not particularly sorry. Not at all, really. Especially seeing as he apparently was in the process of convincing himself I hadn't really meant it anyway....
solitary_summer: (Default)

The longer I think about yesterday's debacle, the more annoyed, and, yes, hurt I feel. I'm aware though that working yourself up into a state after the event isn't really conductive, so I guess I'll try to stick with the original amused reaction.

Still. Still. This was someone I considered a friend of sorts for more than three years. Had fun with. Fought with. Went through a lot of emotional ups and downs with. Trusted enough to share quite a lot personal information with. Someone who certainly did have an impact on my personal development. And the moment he finally gets it through his head I'm not likely to sleep with him, I'm irrelevant as a human being? As a friend? I'm willing to cut him some slack here, because, ok, hurt, drunk, shocked, in whatever order, but this is kind of harsh.

And his reaction made me insecure, made me implicitly also doubt people I care for, if only for a short time, and that I rather resent. Much thanks goes to M* for bringing everything into perspective again.
solitary_summer: (Default)

[sorry for spelling & incoherency. kinda drunk.]

weird, weird evening. g* and I did the I-might-be-attracted-to-women,-generally, thing covered at one point quite some time ago, but apparently he didn't remember and also it's apparently a major step from theoretical bisexuality to admitting i found one particular woman (someone he knew at that) sexually attractive at one point, but then, he did ask... and I thought, wtf, i wasn't going to chicken out.

Incidentally I also trusted we had a friendship of sorts, stable enough I could say something like that. seems I was mistaken.

major need! another! beer! freak out on his part, for several reasons. apparently me saying I like him as a friend, but only as a friend never struck home before, but me saying I found one woman sexually attractive... did. Never mind all the times I was in love, heartbreak and all, It was with guys.

I don't know if I'm really a lesbian in deep denial. I honestly don't.

so maybe laughing didn't really help things, but what with two glühweins and two red wines after having eaten barely anything all day i was simply too drunk to find his stunned O!M!G! reaction anything but utterly hilarious. so we're looking at each other across the table me unable to stop the giggling, he... tact? er. not so much. took a little time for me to realise he's dead serious when he's saying he's shocked and disappointed. then I was swerving wildly between amused, offended, and understanding.

because on the one hand i understand his need for distance, if he reallly only realised now that he didn't have a chance with me, although to my best knowledge this doesn't have to do anything with my sexual orietnation (whatever that may be), on the other hand as a human being i feel, oh, i don't know, a bit offended, if at the moment he convinces himself i might not be available as a girl friend, i'm discarded as a friend, too. him declaring this would be the last time we sat together like that.

he's the first person (offline) I came out to as bisexual in so many words, and yes, ok, difficult circumstances & such, but... annoyng, still. hurt? not really. part of me felt I should be offended at some of the things he came up with, some of which were quite insulting (if, in a few cases cases, maybe not entirely untrue, either), but another part of me felt just so strong, so far above all this stupidity. being able to laugh at him, even if it wasn't kind. still. being told he values my intellect, that I'm still good enough to go on correcting his manuscripts, but not to drink a beer with... that did hurt, kind of, told him in this case he could keep his manuscripts too. the finality of it. he was more drunk than i was at this point, so maybe didn't mean it, but it still hurt. but he was the one hurting more, so I guess it is his decision. apparently I did hurt him quite a lot, inadvertedly.

and it shouldn't feel as - almost good considering, I just did hurt someone.

it should probably hurt more, except it doesn't. I don't

need to eat soemthing, to sober up a bit.
solitary_summer: (Default)


Saw 'Whale Rider' with G*; recommended with caution. It's not bad, though occasionally slightly on the kitsch side. I prefer movies a little more subtle, less heavy handed with the moral lesson and symbolism, but every time the my inner cynic started a snarky running commentary in my head, there were images powerful enough to make me shiver and again redeem the movie for the next 5 minutes or so. The girl who played Pai did very well, and if IMO at some points she seemed a bit too perfect, too 'tragic heroine' the fault (if it's a fault at all) lies with the direction. What came across beautifully is that tradition isn't an end in itself and cannot be preserved in some supposedly 'pure' state by mere force of will, but needs to change and adapt in order to remain a truly alive, powerful force that is still relevant to people's lives.

Sadly G* refused to watch the original version with me and while I'm not opposed to dubbing on principle, in this particular case the German rather jarred with the Maori-spoken parts.

Going to see 'Pirates of the Carribbean' today, to find out what all the fuss & fangirlish squeeing is about. Or not.
solitary_summer: (Default)

* Ah well. It's back to lj layout until I figure out how to upload my background on the Uni server again, without the easy upload thingy they used to have. I sort of like this new style, though, rather practical.

* And the uncharitable antisocial streak comes out again... But I rather dislike it when people get too clingy. G* invited himself over yesterday to write an e-mail and check e-bay, forcing me to wash the dishes, vacuum, put away the cloths & generally clean up a bit, which hadn't really been on my 'to-do-after-work'-list in the morning, rather than just crash in front of the TV with a pizza, which had been. And now he called me about something or the other, and I randomly tell him I'd been to the Belvedere today (more about that later), and he asks me, apparently sort of insulted, why I hadn't asked him to come along, seeing as he's living in the vicinity. Er. Because I wanted to be alone, maybe?! Quite apart from the fact that we'd only seen each other yesterday I don't like visiting museums with someone who I know perfectly well isn't really interested - tends to spoil the experience.

* The capital-C-culture part of the day over & done with I watched a DS9 re-run - the 'the-lesbian-kiss-that-wasn't'-episode. I never know whether I should find this sweet or exasperating. To write an episode where allegedly gender or sexual preference isn't an issue at all, while at the same time inventing a perfectly rational, even non-homophobic reason, why, yet again, there can be no gay relationship on star trek is either somewhat unfortunate or more than somewhat hypocritical.

* Hu. I'm not so good with the cooking for singles... there's enough vegetable soup to last me a week...

* Note to self, it's really too late in the year for peaches and nectarines. Try to remember next time.

* One of these days there will be an entry with some sort of actual content again. No, seriously, in the [quote] near, future [/quote], nin time. :: g ::


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