"That was attractive."
"Another attractive sound, brought to you by Margaret."
"Thank you, thank you."
"No, really, thank you."
We were talking about our love lives, as we are wont.
"I hope I can find a boyfriend who isn't grossed out by me."
"Oh, you probably can. Be glad you aren't dating girls."
I started snickering, and when pressed said that I was thinking about the time all bran came out my nose.
"I have to admit, that's truly disgusting - even for you. At least when things come out my nose, they're liquid."
At lunch we invented the word funnification. As in saying "Touche!" funnifies any discourse in which you are engaging. You gotta point, though, when you say it.
I wish for either of these two things: that I didn't care that I make crazy funky typos OR that I didn't make crazy funky typos. One or the other. We are not proud.
Is it okay to mock people's pronunciation when mine is so atrocious? I think: yes! Yes of course.
2003-12-16, time for BED
(I just looked at that song again and thought about it some more, and think it's somewhat tongue in cheek. Because of course you should start. You don't say "don't let's start" to your "precious little girl."
Of course you start. Of course you want to live in this world. Even though no one ever gets what they want. Even though everybody dies frustrated and sad.)
2003-12-15, a great pain finds no haven
So Friday, right? Friday when I was crying, Friday when I felt like I was going to be eaten alive? You know what had me crying? Reading How to Survive the Loss of a Love.
Oh, pop psychology! I can't tell you how affecting it was - and I also can't tell how how strikingly unaffecting I find it right now. I mean, I was raw and exhausted, which probably explains significant chunks of why this was all so upsetting. But I just sat and man - I was with my grief.
The other day in the car with Ms. J, "Don't let's start" came on. Everybody dies frustrated and sad and that is beautiful. She said "Oh, that's terrible!" I just beamed and kept driving. Sometimes I feel very aware of the pain of the world without being overwhelmed by it, and those are beautiful moments. Life is pain - people die, lovers can always leave, but ... you live anyway, and it's still worth the pain.
But I think about my crazy Margopsychology, or my patchwork, haphazard spirituality. I mean, my personal understanding of the New Testament is just that - highly personal, highly idiosyncratic. Does it bother me that sometimes it strikes me as flakey? Yeah, maybe. I know I get a bit embarrassed by my penchant for pop psychology.
You know what though? I can just run with it. Yeah, I think I probably will. I can be analytical with myself, and I think I know where some of this comes from, even. But I just don't fuss too much about it. I have some long papers to write, some heavy reading to do tonight. I can be a critical thinker about other things that matter more. I'm just going to let this slide.
2003-12-15, everybody dies but let's start
Insomnia just doesn't suit me.
Neither does sleep deprivation. I get raw.
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