So,… so so so. So, today my classes were all sleepy, and i’m not sure if i learned anything. It’s not as though i didn’t get enough sleep, but this was one of those days where anything can distract me … and rest assured, that’s exactly what it did. I mostly owe this to a 20oz sized trip to Starbucks that i made with Lindsay this morning — having four shots of espresso in a drink before class is just about as bad as my having four shots of vodka instead. But, i digress.
I’ve been doing a lot of digressing lately, a lot of retreating. When i keep falling back over ground i’ve already covered it’s a little bit difficult to understand where i’m headed, but at least i know the way already.
For a Communications Theory treatise on my weblogging liaisons with Rabi, truck on over to this post and check out the comment chain. I just wrote a rather long (4000+ words) paper about “Interpersonal Communication Theory and Its Application to Initially Text-Based Relationships,” which was basically just my wordy way of saying i was writing about how bloggers wind up being friends with one another. I’m still working on editing the paper appropriately for public consumption (obviously i’ll need to be a little more explanatory about some of the theories), but in the meantime you might glean something interesting from Rabi’s post. And, anyway, you shouldn’t need an excuse to read her page :p
Trio: Season 2, #7
Okay, i hate the phone. Got that? Hate it. If i ask you for your number, i really don’t want to have an at length phone conversation where i can make a complete ass out of myself for an entire hour without being able to do anything endearingly cute. This is not to say that i don’t want to talk, it’s just to say that it’s hard to have a meaningful silence on the telephone and so i fill them all with a ton of meaningless blather until you contrive a reason to hang up on me.
Not that she contrived a reason to hang up on me; i’m not that inept.
Yes, this means i got up the guts to pick up a phone and call her. No, i do not have an actual time for our lunch date. Yes, i suspect i am absolutely moronic enough on the telephone that any tiny inkling of attraction she might have had has now been flushed down the toilet. Yes, this means i have to call her again some other time if i ever want to see her.
Girls. What was wrong with asexuality, again?
I am in my green lawn chair, but my systems are shutting down for bed regardless of my physical location. First the vision started to fuzz, which lead to my discovery that my mouth was no longer in operation. Next to go were my legs, which quivered and quavered on my way to the bathroom to much that i was afraid i’d be discovered upen daybreak wrapped around the porcelain god in a defeated slumber. Back in my room my stomach gave out, which left me feeling somewhere between full and hungry … which is to say i feel like i am missing a chunk of insides, and the signals that that sends are decidedly mixed. Finally, my neck altogether stopped necking, which leaves my head lolling on the back of my funky green lawn chair, trying to offer my eyes a viable vantage point upon the screen. As for the eyes, i suspect that they’re the next to go; right now all i can see is the white of the screen, and everything around/behind it is a swirling vortex of blackness.
It is sleep; i am asleep except for glowing white box of blogger and clickity clack hands and even they are starting to go, hitting delete as much as they are finding the right things to say. It would seem that (whoops, eyes are shut now, this should be fun) all systems are ready for a recharge save for one: my brain. Leave it to old wrinkly to be racing at a time like this, when everything else is in a decided mutiny against it’s slavedriving will. (Head seems to be sliding off of the back of the chair, perhaps in an attempt to spill brain onto floor through ear. Doesn’t seem to be working).
So, like i said in the beginning of this strange narrative (see last post, silly), this is an experiment. Actually, my paper was the experiment, and i’m sure the results will be painful (at best). This is… it’s companion … my attempting to do something that’s usually a simple simple thing for me just to see how it turns out … of course, that’s not anything i can ascertain right now, but this should be amusing as hell to read tomorrow morning.
(The body says: ha! tomorrow morning? remember that bit about not waking up? you’re not the one who gets to decide… oh dear, i’m talking to myself, that would seem to indicate that mind has joined the fray of … um… oh, dear, i seem to be walking towards bed. uh, goodnite).