Yesterday morning was written in the lyrics of a song i loved before you, one of those songs that dragged me along before and after that scary night when i knew thats it's time for things to change. such a tiny thing to change, so small but so absolutely important. This is where the first, second and third dream thing comes in. weird, weird weird. But yes, me wanting to drag myself along, and then being asked along and thinking what it means, it being scary a couple of hours later. but just a teeny little bit scary. scary enough, that is. good.

In this current world, sleep equals love. For no particular reason except for the desperation that has lately been attached to sleep; enough desperation to attach that letting go the control of my mind with any euphoric experience. Especially probably love; because it is the ending of self-torture, letting go, being nice to myself for a couple of hours. And with all of that has come these torturous traces; the sawdusty smell, a reminder of the tinyest fragments of a fantasy, the feeling of being encapsulated (or micro-encapsulated), regret, and myself passing around criticism in which the resentment is no longer masked. It's a weird, evil cycle. Almost consumerist at its worst. What I am trying to say though, is not this, perhaps it is not anything at all. All I am trying to find is the right way of telling you. And there is no right way of telling you; because your answer will remain the same. But so probably will mine. The problem is that I never seem to say what I mean, because, well, I never actually know what I really want to mean.  

(and my title; life = love = death comes from some bad artist in and old movie with SJP in it. wait, just wiki'd it; is called if lucy fell. One of those m-net-in-the-holidays specials.)

Monday morning. As usual for a Monday morning, I couldn't get out of bed when my alarm clock went off this morning. Not even the second time. The third time almost convinced me, and I was already a little late. And, as usual, I considered staying in bed but as, usual, I thought that giving in to this idea is a bad way to begin the week, so I fell out of bad. And, as usual for a Monday, I arrived at my 8:05 class at 8:07. At least this is an improvement on last year, when my average arrival time for 8:00 class on Monday was 8:15. And I'm not kidding.

Later today, I pondered on Mondays, and how this is such a typical Monday. I'm still a liitle optimistic; I had blocked it all out over the weekend. So I start well, but run into trouble during the day and this sets the scene for the rest of the week. It's going to be one hell of a week. Last semester this trouble usually hit me in the afternoon during Thermodynamics tut. The thermo wasn't the problem, it was just that usual realisation that the week does not contain enough hours for everything that needs to be done. Today it was not finding parking on campus, the extra micro practical session that was not supposed to take as long (1 hour and 15 minutes instead of 30 minutes) and missing class as a result of it.

But later today, I was taking a drive  (picking up materials for product development) and I looked at what I was wearing  and realised that this is so typical of me for a Monday; my current pair of most comforatble sneakers, the jeans that I got in 2002 that are holey but just still work, the red t-shirt that I've also had for years, and the black hoodie that I got in notting hill in 2001. And of course the messy hair. Then I realised; this is me, I am me on Mondays, who I really am, in no way pretending to be something else. And just optimistic enough to get me through.

It's going to be a hectic week. But I might just make it.

Been unexpectedly thinking about you today. I'm extremely tempted to go on a nostaligic tirade of favourite memories; couscous, chicken and green tea, reading that book, drying off in the sun, and smoothies at the waterfront. But I shall not, because these memories are rather well-preserved. However, I just remembered something which I had most definately forgotten. Remember that song we made? It started with you reading out that 'angel girls' poem ('I wish i were an angel girl, beacuse their hair is white... - or something like that') with some mixed-up guitar music and then me;

'The sky is white

and there are ants walking

on a wire to the roof

on a wire to the roof (death metal voice)

on a wireto the roof (screaming)'

Aaah. Those legendary nonsensical lyrics. Makes me want to say random nonsensical things  to everyone I see. This should be an interesting week.

I read this short story once (actually, more than once because I lreally loved it) called "Let's go to Golgotha". It's about time travelling tourists who travel to Jerusalem in 33 A.D. to go and witness the crucifiction. The time travelling travel agent gives the time travellers disguises so that they fit in with the people witnessning this event, and give them instructions of what to say ("Crucify him!"), which they. However, when they get to Jerusalem 33 A.D., and are shouting this, one of the time travellers notice that although there is crowd engaging in this activity, all the houses are full and the people are going about their everyday business, which implies thatit was only time travellers shouting. But anyway.

Today happens to be the day on which two of my leart favourite events in the varsity's calender occurs (open day and matie ete). See, I didn't even like teenagers when I was one of them, and they flock around campus like sheep dressed in school uniforms. (The sight of a school uniform still makes me break out in a cold sweat). In my absolute stuggle to find parking I almost killed a couple of them. Would have been good riddance. (My favourite part about open day was always getting snacks at my department, but now they feed me regularly and don't seem to think that we need snacks anymore to lull us into almost enjoying open day.) And Matie ete; in what kind of screwed up world is it fun to sit in the street with hundreds of other people and eat disgusting cold res food whilst Matie FM is blaring? Am I not normal that I didn't ever find this fun? 

I am intrigued, though, about what the high school kids are thinking of campus now that they have 'been here'. Do they think that Victoria street is closed every lunchtime and there's music playing? And that there are mean-looking girls trying to run them over? See... they created campus today. Which is wonderfully warped.

I just typed a rant, blaming you for everything. Everything in the slightest littlest detail that I can possible manage. The rant concluded with me feeling better for blaming it on you.

But I accidentally pressed 'Cancel' instead of 'Preview and Post'. Sillly me...