My tears run...what are you running from? Tonight was interesting. Not interesting-exciting, but interesting-fun. I had it in mind today that I would get all my studying done and such before movie time, but alas, I didn't rouse until like a quarter to one, and thus only had four hours to get all the shit in the house together, and rent movies. No studying. Now I'm running a little scared, but will endeavor to study a lot tomorrow. No Shakespeare though, but I'll do that on Tuesday or Wednesday I suppose. We watched were Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Twenty-Eight Days Later, and Westjet took his leave, and three tired boys home at twelve-thirty.

I don't like playing hostess. If it had been my own place, it would have been nicer. But when I'm not even completely comfortable in the place I live, everything seems like it needs to be done properly- including hosting. Stiff, formal, "oh please, let me" hostessing. I feel like a domesticized freak when I do it. But that isn't to say I resent giving the boys a good time either. I wonder if they realize how uncomfortable it makes me to do that though. I suppose that I just wanted everything to go smoothly upstairs, so as to not draw the attention of Godzilla, who, to her credit, kept the guest involvement to a minimal, as well as the interrogations and demanding of food. Maybe I should feel bad, but I don't. This is the woman who, in a desperate bid for attention, interrupts a conversation going in a completely different direction with a compulsory "I am" statement, and then proceeds to talk about herself and her life and all its fascinating drivel for as long as you let her, leaving a trail of silence and awkwardly shuffling feet and nervous side glances in her wake.

I really got to thinking about love tonight. My own concept of love, I suppose, as everyone has a different ideal. "ESOTSM" made me realize that for the first time in a long while, I hadn't been thinking about love and what it meant to me. I could talk about complacency here but I won't. The love between Joel and Clementine seemed touchable though, and after the movie was over, I was swamped with feelings of my ideal love-stuff. More importantly, will I ever know anything close to love again? I love Mr. Pink, but I think I fear the outcome of loving him as much as I love him. I know I shouldn't even question the outcome of loving someone, that I should just put my all into it, and I try to, but I think the older we get, the more a sense of self-preservation starts to imbed itself in our minds. Love thus makes us fall harder though, in our efforts to deny that we have this little green inching glacier of self preservation spreading over our psyche. This is getting too complicated.

I want to have love. Large snow drifts of love to roll around in, bedsheets to hide under and snicker at the outside world from, and shared baths. Walks. Adventures. Lazy days in a cool room with two warm bodies in the centre. Loveletters and poetry, flowers and I'm-sorry's. Heated debate with warm hugs or passionate lovemaking afterwards. Arguments, compromises, teamwork, a shared space of comfort and familiarity. Tears of sadness, dissappointment and frustration, all shared or causal. Trust, respect, equality and mutual understandings. Hopeless fucking idealisms.

I miss Mr. Pink. I was really tempted to call him tonight as I waved off the boys. I should have turned around and gone straight inside, but instead I stood out in the cold on the freshly fallen snow and thought about him and all this love junk. It is better to have loved then to have not known love, but damn if it doesn't worry the hell out of me sometimes.

I don't have the familiarity with Mr. Pink that I have with all my friends even. We've been friends forever, but not in a distinctly commital way in that we know each other's habits very well, if at all. I could tell you what Mr. Smith, Fenton and the like do when they are unhappy, as far as unspoken signs, but it isn't the same with Mr. Pink. We don't know each other's nuances, and while I am eager to find them, time has been sorely lacking. I'm also worried that though this learning is inevitable, if not doomed to be a very slow process, that too many unpleasant realizations will dawn at the wrong time and screw it all up. However, I am not the type to love conditionally though. I just hope he isn't either. I suppose he isn't, seeing as I even ventured a foot to the experience (is attracted to likeminded people) but he's so naive and inexperienced. Incredibly fucking naive and inexperienced, and that scares the shit out of me. At least if there was some residue bitterness or jadedness in that gave him a nice cynical edge I could empathize with, it would be better. We'd be the same damaged goods, and I wouldn't be such a wreck about doing something that pushes him to be that way. This is confusing, I know.



  ¶ 12:54 AM