An entry, I didn't mean to get angry and annoyed, but I did, and now I'm all pissy and I can't even write a nice title for it, NOT THAT I EVER DO ANYWAY.
Monday, Mar. 21, 2005 - 19:45

At that concert I went to a Sunday and a half ago I decided that if I were a lesbian I'd like tall girls.

On the bus a drunk guy said to me "You're pretty." He said many other things too, but most ended with "You're pretty". And then at the concert a boy was watching me and it was so painfully obvious and then he finally said "Have you heard them before?" and I said no and there wasn't anything else to be said. Obviousness doesn't get you anywhere with me, and besides that, I'm not interested anyway. Why not? Because.

And there's this guy at work and a few weeks ago I was waiting by the elevator and so was he and I'd never even noticed him before but he introduced himself and started asking me things about myself and now he always walks by my desk and sorry dude, I'm not interested, it's not going to work. But the annoying thing, the stupid fucking annoying thing, is that I feel somehow like I owe him something, like I have to acknowledge him when he walks by, and that pisses me off. I never noticed him before any more than I notice other people -- I mean, I notice them and acknowledge them and smile and I try to be pleasant because god knows the people in that office need someone to be pleasant to them, to remind them, oh yeah, we're all people, so I do that and I would do that, but it's irksome beyond belief that now there's this annoying guy walking around that I have to smile at. AND IT'S NOT GOING TO WORK, I'M NOT INTERESTED, LEAVE ME ALONE.

Sometimes, usually, I just wish people would leave me alone.

That's not true, but usually, always, I have this idea that I'm the observer, I'm the one observing people, and no one notices me.

In eighth grade all my friends were worried about getting initiated in ninth grade, but I wasn't. They wouldn't initiate me, they wouldn't even notice me. And that's how it was, I didn't get initiated. Actually no one got initiated. But if anyone had, I wouldn't have been it.

But now every once in a while I find out that I'm not invisible. Someone a few months ago said "I saw you walking down the street" and it surprised me. How could they have seen me walking down the street? Especially when I hadn't seen them?

Also, boys in general, for the most part, are just plain annoying, and I smile at EVERYONE, even girls, and if I smile at you it doesn't mean I want you to walk by my desk all the time.

Subtlety scores points with me, but then again, I'm just not interested.

Also, if I WERE interested in this annoying guy, it would be this exciting little dance, wouldn't it? Ooh, he just walked by my desk, giggle giggle, he came into the copy room where I've been copying, giggle giggle, etc. etc. But it's not, it's so annoying it might actually propel me into applying for a new job.

Maybe my standards are too high, maybe I'm a huge snot, but the only people I've liked back in the last two years have been Peter and one other person that I'm not going to tell you about.

What I tell you here, I pick and choose, it's little bits, and it's weird because it's the little bits I don't write anywhere else. I got into a fight with my paper journal a few months ago because it doesn't know anything, it doesn't know me, I only write what I write in there and there's so much I don't write there. And my journal doesn't have any idea if what I'm not writing in there is something important, if I'm writing other things to distract myself or to make small talk. I tell you some things, but not many personal or important things, and that's because this isn't a "diary" or a "weblog" or a "journal" or anything. It's some form of entertainment, but ... anyway, whatever, who cares what it is, and I hate laboring over definitions. Because you can define something any way you like and it doesn't mean it's the right definition; you can state whatever you want to state, and people will believe you and it will be true, but it's bullshit, that's all it is, and eventually, someday, somewhere, maybe after we're all dead, all the bullshit will go away and then we will be left with the Truth.

I am upset about something, obviously, but it's not anything I can define or articulate, and I'm all pissed off and hoity-toity and philosophical and annoyed, and I think I'm gearing up to write something but if I had some more fucking time I'd be able to do that a little more, and it pisses me off that I don't, and it pisses me off that even if I did I wouldn't be doing it, and it pisses me off that even though I know that I don't do anything about it, and my typewriter ribbon isn't very dark anymore and I just got a new one, but jesus christ that was two years ago.

Stephen King pissed me off on the busride home today and I was going to talk about that, and I was going to talk about the person next to me, on the bus, next to me, BREATHING, and it was ODIOUS, and I don't even know what odious means, but it was ODIOUS.

But I won't talk about that, instead I'll go do some of my fucking taxes.