Tuesday, February 20, 2007


Fevrale dostat chernil i plakat,
Pisat O Fevrale navsnryd,
Poka grohochushaya slyakot
Vesnoyu charnoyu gorit.

[february. get ink, shed tears.
write of it, sob your heart out, sing.
while torrential slush that roars,
burns in the blackness of the spring. ]

--Boris Pasternak

February is a miserable month. No matter what happens in February, I will always think it is a terrible, terrible time of the year.

I am currently not getting along with The Muffin. Not necessarily because of Beowulf, though a bit of subconscious jealousy that I am in a relationship--a very good one--and she is not might factor into it. In part it's because she's more of a neat freak than I am. It's also because of stuff going on in her personal life that I don't know about (I don't know about it because she doesn't tell me such things. She doesn't tell me because she doesn't trust me. She doesn't trust me because _once_, nearly a year ago, I accidentally let something she'd told me slip in conversation. I apologized and said I was an idiot and I'd be more careful in the future. She'll never forgive me). And in large part it's because I'm still friendly with Vanilla, the boy she has a crush on who was afraid to ask her out. Vanilla deserves what he gets, I admit, but I try to be a good forgiving Xian, plus I don't like the feel of specific hate for too long. I can hate humanity in general for long periods with no qualm, but to feel as if I'd like to hold one little theatre boy under water until the last bubble of his breath goes "glub"...well, that's a nasty burden to carry about beneath my ribcage. So I started talking to Vanilla again. He's not my best friend or anything, but we have a few similar interests--mostly photography and, to an extent, theatre and literature. But the mere fact that I am not purely hateful to the boy grates on The Muffin's nerves to no end. I "ruined" her birthday--a day I tried to make as perfect as possible, by the way, Beowulf and I took a bunch of friends out to dinner at a good restaurant, and we chipped in and got her the perfect gift (a real, live bunny rabbit named Morpheus)--simply by mentioning that I'd talked to Vanilla. After that we got into what for us is a huge fight, and I spent the night with Beowulf rather than go back to la Chez de la Muffin.

That, plus the miserable weather. O fevrier, le mois de tristesse.*

So I've been taking comfort from spending as much time as possible with Beowulf, and have consequently become one of _those_ girls, who abandons her friends for her new significant other. I'm trying to not be _that_ girl, but Beowulf is one of the few things in my life right now that makes me feel good. But I'm trying to schedule some photo shoots with some girlfriends, and I eat lunch with The Mastermind, who is one of my best friends, and I talk photography with Vanilla, and I still go to all of my extracurricular stuff. The Mastermind is really the one pointing out my _that_ girl-ness.

So that's my life right now, mostly, really just the stuff that's on my mind right now. I'll write about less personal stuff later...

*I've been working on mon francais lately. Bear with me.

Wednesday, February 7, 2007

Beet Red

Oh. My. Gad.

I am more embarassed than I have ever been.

My roommate, The Muffin, just walked in at the most inopportune moment possible--Beowulf was lying on top of me in the middle of the floor, as we kissed with a great deal of passion.

Beowulf and I just started dating, btw.

The Muffin is going to despise me for a long, long time. The Muffin will probably regard this as an example of the "pda" she so hates, though we were definitely not in public. In fact, we were very much in private, in the room that happens to also be mine, and not anywhere near her bed. Sure, maybe we should have locked the door, but it's not like we said to one another "hey, let's meet in Seraph's room and make out on the floor to gross out The Muffin!"

The Muffin is not a physically affectionate person--I don't believe she's ever kissed anyone with tongue. She looks a little bit uncomfortable when we hold hands, and turns green when we hug. If he kisses me on the forehead in her presence, she loudly excuses herself with an openly disgusted look on her face. If she is feeling unhappy or sick and I attempt to give her a friendly hug, she cringes away like a beaten puppy. I feel a little bad for The Muffin in that regard. I used to do the same thing.

Though to be honest, if I walked in upon her and one of her flock of admirers--Vanilla the Theatre Boy, for instance--in the same situation, I would be a little uncomfortable meself. Though I wouldn't say "Oh my gad, gross, I think I'm going to be sick." I'd put it more like "Um. Okay. Excuse me." and leave quickly. I would wait until later to say "Hey Muffin, could you go somewhere else with that stuff, or at least lock the door? Thanks."

And now I have a cold. Oh, the misery.