| | Well... a night's sleep can sometimes improve one's attitude... but usually I just wake up with a headache. Anyhow, yeah, I managed to pull it together for my mother (which is good because today and tomorrow are going to be the big fake-a-thon). Yay, Thanksgiving, also know as that meal that is filled with foods I can't eat and don't like! (the salad is good, and sometimes the rolls, and maybe the stuffing) I've got my responses already "Good, busy, but then what can you expect with 21 units? No, he's spending the day with his father, yes, in Reno. You know, I don't really have a plan yet, but that is part of the excitment of being young, right?" Oh yeah baby I got this mofo down. It is sucky that the concert that Frank invited me to was sold out and he realized he didn't have time for me anyway... okay its more than just sucky. BUT (aw, Mr. Roe I miss you) I'll get some work done! Yeah, I'll just sit there on Friday and write volumns about my movies... no sitting around and moping because I have no life for me, damnit!
On a side note, I asked Jacob if he still loves me, and weirdly enough, he hasn't gotten back to me (its been three days). When I asked him again last night (he said to contact him in a couple of days), he was his usual snappish cranky self. Personally if it takes you three days to decide whether or not you love someone still, I think the answer is no. I was really only asking so I could segue into the fact that I don't love him anymore, figuring he probably felt the same, but it seemed rude to open a conversation with "I don't love you anymore." Its rather sad, and part of me wishes I could be more worked up about it (I feel losing the last contemporary feelings for my first love deserves a little hysteria), but I can't. The boy I loved was 14 (or hell even 12) and thought I was beautiful when no one else did. He wanted to buy me a house with a front porch (and if it didn't have a big enough one, he was going to build me one), and call the house Connecticut (he always told me he had a wife and kids in Connecticut). He would just let me spin when I got in a tizzy. He would play with me, and we would get kicked out of places together. True he was always a stubborn bastard, but he loved me at least as much as he loved winning (and I liked to believe more). This is the guy who after french-kissing me for the first time told me I tasted like chicken. Instead of feeling this huge tug in my heart, I feel like this is all a memory pressed in a photo album somewhere. I love that guy, I don't love this one.
PS. I am such a dork, my dresser, having no clothes (the cool part about going home!), is filled with books!
posted by Amber at 1:18 PM
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