One year ago

 
    I've had the apartment all to myself this weekend.  the roommates are gone, presumably because of Easter.  Not me though.  Lots to do.  remarkably little done.  You know, I always say i get "remarkably" little done.  I suppose by this point I can just drop the "remarkably."
 

    Anyhow, lots of little dramas over the weekend.  Jed was supposed to fly home friday night, but due to crappy weather, his flight was cancelled. So we spent most of the night just hanging out.  PFC Kathy called at one point, and wanted to hang out.  or "arse" as she called it, meaning fucking off.  Meaning shirking work and hanging out.  She was a bit surprised to find Jed here I think.  Jed had spent tha majority of the night at her place on thursday.  So anyway, not realizing how late it was, I told her to just come up here.  I certainly didn't want to go to her place with Jed.  Because I knew at some point in the evening my presence there would become unecessary and maybe even unwanted.  At least if Kathy came up here, it would be me in my own home.  I just didn't want to walk all the way back here by myself.  Anyway, she didn't get here till about 1 AM I think.  I didn't get to bed till around 5, which pretty much fucked me for the whole weekend.  It's almost 5 now on Sunday, and i've been up for about 2 hours.
    The whole Jed/Kathy thing is getting increasingly awkward for me.  It's really too Jen / Matt.  You know, we hang out, have a few laughs, etc., then at the end of the evening, I get all uncomfortable because of the inetivable pairing off, and I feel weird just being there.  It's funny that the it reminds me so much of my feelings around Matt and Jen when they were dating, because I just learned that Matt and Jen are kind of "Matt and Jen" again. Or were.  Or will be. I don't know.  Neither do they.  But something happened with them over the past week.  Which was kind of surprising, because I was just getting used to not expecting them to get together when they're, you know, together.  So the big question was really, why now?  My theory, of course, is that it's because it's spring time, you know, "that magical time of year when a young man's fancy turns to love"?  But matt went back to DC today, and he'll be workign in London till July this summer.  So for now, the drama, at least overtly, will be fairly minimal.

    Kathy did, however, bring over a Modest Mouse CD, This Is A Long Drive For Someone With Nothing To Think About.  I've been contemplating buying it.  But I think I won't. I don't like it as much as Building Nothing Out of Something.  So I just made MP3s out of the cd.  That's good enough. I ain't made 'a money, you know.

    This clashing of my social worlds, though, is a bit disconcerting.  I think I'm reluctant to try integrating them much more.  i have a pretty critical group of friends.  Not so much critical, really, as much just a lack and intolerance for bullshit.  If we don't like someone, we'll tell each other.  Which makes me uncomfotable when the PFCs are aound too.  I don't want to hear about their little flaws and all that.  Or even sense that I'll hear about them later.  This is James' influence I think.  He's super critical at times, and I always try to make sure that whenever I introduce an outsider to our little group, that james isn't the first one of my friends that someone meets.  I try to ease them in, like with Jed.  He's the most affable of the bunch.  I still regret that james was the first one of my friends that Rodzilla met.  I don't really remember why, but I get the feeling that that encounter led to a lot of little problems.
    Speaking of Rodzilla (note the smooth transitional flow between paragraphs and subjects.  How literary), she'll be leaving France in about a week I reckon.  Then it's off to Italy.  That makes me a bit nervous, for no logical reason whatsoever.  I know things are fine, and will continue to be so.  But she'll be travelling around by herself for three weeks, and, you know, it's Italy.  Italy's full of Italian people you know.  And you know those Italian men.  And Rodzilla's very susceptible to European themes of romance.  Honestly, I'm not worried.  But honestly, I'm a little bit worried.

    Not that I'm this insecure or paranoid.  just a little less than it appears.  She'll be here in less than 5 weeks, and while that's a good amount of time, hell, she's been over there for 7 months now, and when she get's back it'll be for good.  So five weeks is really nothing.  Well, it's significantly more than nothing, but we're in the home stretch for now.   This will be weird.  I've spent the almost 2 years wondering when we'll live in the same place, worrying, fretting, hoping, and such and such.  So it's going to be really weird to not worry about that.  To actually date someone like normal people.  Without having to spend every moment we're together, together.  I won't have my room cluttered up with a ginormous suitcase everytime she's here, and I'm really looking forward to having a regular phone bill for the first time in 2 years.  The benefits go on and on.  So I guess I'll spend the next five weeks preparing myself mentally.  Actually, i won't. I don't know why I wrote that.  How would I do such a thing anyway?
 

    I got a letter from Rodzilla yesterday, with a picture of something I had sent her sitting in her apartment. Her apartment didn't look like I'd imagined, so it was weird to finally see it when I was in France.  the odd thing to me is that now I have this memory of an apartment that doesn't exist.  you know, whenever she'd describe it to me, I'd get this image in my head, and after a while I'd get the same image.  But the moment I saw the place, "her apartment" ceased to exist in my head.  I just think it's kind of weird to have a "memory" of a moment or place that never happened and never will.  So when I think about her place now, I think about how it really is, and this thought I used to have slowly slips away.  I don't know why I felt compelled to explain this, but hey, this is my journal and I'll write down whatever internally cool/externally lame thoughts I want to.  Fucker.
 
 

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