tooth soup

Colour me confused. In fact, mood me confused.

My friends, I have a confession to make. It may make some of you approach the state of aghast I have so longingly wished to see someone in, it may make some of you recoil in anger at having seen such a thing written, it may make some of you shurg and go back to watching the OC. Here it is:
I can’t see into other people’s minds.
I know, horrific isn’t it? Somewhere between when I was conceived and present day I missed out on the power of telepathy. I don’t mind if this means that some of you don’t want to hang out with me – this kind of disability is bound to make you look lesser in society’s eyes and I understand if that’s the sort of gaze you wish to avoid. Strike me from your address books, rid yourself of photos and burn my statues.

The above piece of pseudo-bitterness (yes, pseudo is my new pink) comes from recent events appearing to be curveballs thrown by none other than Himself. An example being one person’s apparent lack of co-ordinating actions with the words coming out of their mouth. One of my uni friends had such events occur to him when a stranger entered his life (and stayed there, unbudged, for 9 months) that made him feel all sorts of things. At the beginning of this I told him that said person had no ideas of the rules of the game and any and all thoughts of what was the inevitable outcome should be eliminated with extreme prejudice. He didn’t, they wouldn’t and now she’s better and so is he together with her. So now I have the unique experience of being able to take my own hindgiven pre-advice. A situation which would not be one given to being made available at a quickstop for $0.99. Ultimately my source of discontent will be absent from sight, barring unforseen sightings, for at least the next week. During which I shall weigh the options, weight them against other options and then throw the balance out the window and toss a coin.

Went and saw the Amityville horror last night. Good film, though there were a mite too many half naked “Look-I’m-no-longer-just-comic-relief” shots of Van Wilder. The fact that it was events soon after the film that began my disconcertion should not detract from the films validity as a decent horror film – if you like that sort of thing. Meanwhile I am stuck trying to avoid books and stuff. I am working at home at doing homework.

That last sentence should be given a ten out of ten for participation.

Essentially I am going to sit here for the time it takes until I am able to say brightly, “It’s time for work!” and leave.

…

It’s time for work!

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