It is easier to leave than it is to be left.

It is harder to be left than it is to leave. Because when you leave, you go somewhere else and you have new experiences and all that, but when you are left, then you are in the same place, doing the same things, and there's supposed to be someone and they aren't there. I learned that sophomore year, when I realised that the boy I'd been writing to and dutifully signing my letters 'miss you," probably really had, a lot more than I had thought at the time. I was at home that summer. It wasn't any sort of fancy thing I was doing there or anything, but I was at home, where he never had been, and he was at school, where I had been. Sophomore fall was very hard to adjust to because our roles were reversed--he was off campus and I was on, and I'd expect to see him and he wouldn't be there. And it suddenly dawned on me that when he said "miss you," he'd really meant it, that he'd probably thought about me more than I had of him. Maybe not. Maybe I'm just projecting.

Anyway, I was doing that tonight, a little, expecting to see the boy who is now in NC walk into the room or some such. He felt very familar, somehow, from the start, even though I didn't know him very long, and I hate it so much when people I love (for whatever definition of love it may be) leave me. It feels personal, even when I know it isn't, and it makes big people-shaped holes in my life until enough time passes.

The summer after my junior year of college this bothered me very much, and I had to come to the understanding that my choices are staying alone by myself or having people to love while they're here, and missing them when they leave me. Which is probably not a choice to other people, but I looked at my life and saw that it could be, just not a very good choice to make. And so I picked missing people. I chose to do this knowing full well that not only will I have times when I am alone, but I will have times when it will feel personal, as though others have chosen to leave *me*, not as a side effect of leaving a place or a situation, but as a choice. But also, I have left people. I left Kirsten at college, I left my coworkers in DC, I left my roommate. I would be surprised if she doesn't still try to tell me things from time to time, and remember that I'm not there just in time. Probably less so since the living room has been all moved around, but I still think, "oh, wait till I tell her X," and have to remind myself that I'll have to send her an email or give her a call, that she won't be at home when I get home.

Tomorrow, I am going for chinese food with people from work. I'm more than a little nervous about this--I don't know how many of the people I actually know from work will be there and how many will be strange to me, but I am brave, and besides which I miss meat in my diet. ;) The cook was invited along as well, though he is very busy cooking since he'll be gone for two cooking days this week, and I said he probably wouldn't be able to make it. I'm leaving him a note with the details anyways, just in case. He likes restaurants, and we're not actually going to be there until about the time that dinner is served at the house, so possibly he could make it if he wants to. We'll see. I'm betting he won't though. And now that I've written the note, I dither about giving it to him because I don't want to seem like I'm pushing. We'll see how it feels in the morning.

You and me babe ain't nothing but mammals

The fact that I am at work, even if it's a good 20 minutes late, should be counted on the personal victories side of my daily tally. There's a whole group of housies going to the beach today, and even the repetition of the fact that I can't go to the beach at this time of day, that I really can't take time off work, that I need the money more than I need a second degree burn, made it really hard to get out the door this morning at all.

Last night I finished my journal entry, posted it, and went to bed. and promptly hit a panic attack wall of sorts--I'd calm myself down enough to fall asleep, immediately have troubled dreams that i don't remember now except that they were borderline nightmares, wake up, panic, calm down, fall asleep on my other side/my back/holding my teddy bear, and repeat. I did this 4 times between 1:30 and 2:30, and finally got up and found my CD player, which I haven't *needed* in ages. And I still woke up a couple of times in the night, but it was much less of a stressful wake up, so I didn't mind them. I blame Andrea in part, as while talking to her last night I laughed so hard I ended up coughing, which seem to be *a* trigger of anxiety attacks, but not the only one--in this case, I also blame PMS, which lately gives me PMDD, which isn't amusing me. At least I did notice I was trying to upset myself last night, and interupted the cycle before i got too upset to sleep at all. THis is why I love music so much.

Continuing my theory that you can *always* find something on the dollar book/CD shelf that you want or own, while shopping Saturday i found a copy of an Unbelievable Truth CD I'd never seen before. It was a single, and I didn't really need it, but like I said, it's the way the world works. I also saw a copy of Drill Team, the CD with the song "Hold You Down," which is the only song I've complained to a radiostation about (It was a disturbing abuse type song. The chorus was "Hold you down/I will make you love me."). I didn't buy any music, but I got a pair of pants--4 pairs I tried on, the biggest of which was a 34, and they all fit. I only bought one pair of jeans, as the work pants were actually 33s, and while they were okay, I wasn't sure they'd be okay for 8 hours of sitting. But it was okay cause they *did* fit--they closed, I didn't think I'd die from wearing them, and they were only 33s. Wheeee! And I bought a shirt which is trashy--it's labeled a small and it fits like a glove, but it looked good with my cargo pants, and I actually ended up wearing it to the party that night as well. And a beautiful long sleeved dress shirt of the most perfect shade of dark blue. I didn't really need that one, I just really wanted it. And in the shoe department, I found a size 8 pair of medium brown clog style strappy Sanita sandals, which are Dansko, for $10. So they were so coming home with me. And the thrift shop has a by-weight section, which scared me so far as clothing was concerned, but they also had several big tables of shoes, with another pair of dansko (dark brown clogs with a briddle type decoration on them) and a pair of Fly Flots for $1.50 a pound. wheee!

eeeee.

Strange Horizons Reviews: Many Voices: A Review of Polyphony, Vol 1, 2, and 3

'The fantastic as metaphor is visible throughout these series, but the example that leaps to mind is "Wounds" by Celia Marsh (P3). In this story, the main character's body heals with exceptional speed, so when she wishes to keep some memento safe, she secrets it under her skin. Summarized that way, it sounds almost ridiculous; I assure you it is not. Marsh describes this ability with a bravura style that made me stop reading and clap my hands (literally).'

Eeeee. (and thank you to Brendan who pointed this out to me as I didn't read the Strange Horizon email last night.)

(no subject)

Oh, I meant to post this ages ago, and hopefully it will work right:

The wedding write up of the editor-in-chief of The Onion (and if you don't have a log in, http://www.bugmenot.com )

This particular wedding section of the NYTimes was very sweet over all--it was the first sunday after legalized gay marriage up here, and there were two or three couples who'd come up and gotten married. My favorite was the couple that had been introduced by one man's mom at a gay pride parade in 1989. Such a good mom. I hope she was at their wedding.