Psychobilly Freakout

I'm lying on our loveseat, legs hanging on the over-sized armrest. My neck is uncomfortable on this little, unfeeling throw pillow. This loveseat reminds me a little bit of Steve's Thinking Chair on Blue's Clues-- though I guess Steve "went off to college," so now it's Joe's Thinking Chair. I'm trying to concentrate on this book-- A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius-- which I really like so far and highly recommend, but for whatever reason I can't seem to pull myself away from the computer. I'm checking my usual round of websites every, what? seven minutes, as if anyone new will pop on and say something to me.

So I have the ridiculous machine sitting on my lap so I don't have to adjust very much when I finish five pages of this book and decide it's time to make my rounds again. As if anything new will actually be there.

Eff eff eff eff eff eff eff eff effity eff eff eff eff. Fuh until eternity. I probably won't make it to Eternity for saying fuh. Sometimes I wish swearing came more naturally to me. I think there's probably nothing like a perfectly fitting curse word now and then, but my little swears are too cutesy. They're usually funny, regardless of how much fury or discontent is behind them. I have a lot of discontent behind them tonight. Not much fury. I have nothing to be furious over. But oh, I'm empassioned.

I wonder if my arm tossed carelessly over my face makes me look pathetic? No. Just tired. It's a tragedy when forced pathos is wasted on unappreciating and unobservant roommates.

What would it be like for him to kiss me? I wonder if he's the type that doesn't like mouth-kisses best. I don't know what kind of kisses I like best. I like all kisses best. Except when they're in front of a Halo tournament when you're 15-- those kinds of kisses can be remembered with a very awkward juxtaposing sense of nausea and nostalgia. My Halo Champion's mouth tasted like Winterfresh gum. My stomach turned a little bit when I tasted that gum in the weeks following that night.

But this one wouldn't stoop so low as to take advantage of my vulnerability during a Halo tournament. I can almost feel his perfectly, carefully unshaven chin in that specific place in my neck and it gives me a little thrill-- not in a dirty way. Or at least, not in a very dirty way. It would be much more thrilling in person, if he were here on the loveseat with me, pulling this silly computer off my lap so he could fold me into his arms and neck-kiss me, and ear-kiss me, and nose-kiss me-- and of course mouth-kiss me, even though it's not his favorite. There might even be a little sense of urgency because he literally doesn't know what else to do with himself, we're just so compatible. And I could smell his hair, and it would smell lightly of styling products. He wouldn't be wearing any kind of pretentious Man Scent like Axe because he's too good for that, too secure for that. And his mouth wouldn't taste like Winterfresh gum, such an obvious and presumptuous preparation for the moment. His mouth would taste distinctly like him, and there would be no way for me to convey what that tastes like.

Yes, maybe I do know a little what it would be like for him to kiss me.

I have half a mind to just get up and start walking down the street, reciting Lady Macbeth's soliloquies. Out damned spot, I will shriek as moronic girls jog by with their trendy iPods, listening to their trendy music, absolutely ignorant of the bad people that do indeed lurk in Provo, much to everyones' surprise. That's the beauty of this campus-- people allow other people to do pretty much whatever they want when it comes to crazies, and they just jog by with hardly a glance. I could scream To bed! To bed! To bed! all I want and no one would bother me about it. Somehow, though, I tend to doubt yelling lines of Shakespeare will change whatever it is I'm feeling.

I want adventure in the great, wide Somewhere. I want it more than I can tell.

What am I even doing with my life? I'm not excellent at anything. I'm mediocre at a lot of things. What have I been doing that I haven't thrown myself into something so important to me that it's difficult to breathe when I can't do that thing? They say being well rounded is a good thing. I want to know who "they" is so I can tell them "they" have another thing coming. Someday I will be the "they" that everyone refers to. Ha ha! What do you think about that?