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the word exaltation
Wednesday. 6.8.11 9:53 pm
It's really quite a beautiful word, I think. Exaltation. Fitting.




"All right, fine, Unicornasaurus*, who's YOUR best friend?"

"[My best friend's name]."

"Who?"

--I answered again, which clarified nothing. He seemed to accept it, ignoring his curiosity for the sake of more important answers.

"...Why's she your best friend?"

I was quiet for a second here. I'm one of those people who doesn't apologize for silence during a conversation, because typically it's necessary to say anything meaningful or memorable at all. My first attack would be to cite time, which means nothing. I've known at least thirty people "for years," and yet I only have two best friends. After a good fifteen seconds, I drew some semblance of a legitimate answer.

"I think...a best friend is someone you can't imagine your life without. Guys and girls come and go, and even during the relationship, I can see after that person, I can see myself without that person. But a best friend is someone you literally can't imagine living without, like you end when they end. --I don't know. She's going to be my maid of honour."

It was their turn to be silent--"them" being the two men I was placed on the swimming pool steps with. I don't think they were thinking carefully about their next words, but rather recounting all the people in their lives that they considered best friends, and how meaningless my new definition proclaimed those connections. I felt somewhat guilty, even, when the one I didn't know as well said, "Then I don't have a best friend," in this funny, far-off way.

I felt like an authority on the matter--that I was the parent telling her children that Santa didn't exist. Except, I'm not an authority on the matter. I'm just not.

I don't have a point. It's just been sticking out in my mind, lately. One other thing is on my mind, too, and it's just as abstract:

I had a dream about being pregnant. My dream self seemed to consider my waking self and obliged her by spelling the little girl's name out for me. I'm glad. It's beautiful, and if I ever have a little girl, I'm naming her exactly that, odd spelling and all.


I'm late responding to my e-mails because I'm always here, trying to write something I can feel good about putting out into the interwebs. It's why I like snail mail--so much easier to concentrate on. So much quicker to respond to, even with the same thoughtfulness. Snail mail needs to come back.


* people outside of NuTang don't actually call me this.

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password protected in case I wake up and don't like this
Tuesday. 5.31.11 1:38 am
Be it extremely emotional, controversial, messed up, or whatever, this entry has been password protected.

If you know it, enter it; or, ask me for it.

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no need to be ALARMED teehee
Thursday. 5.26.11 2:23 pm

Oh, you guys don't want to read my last entry. ;D


So I've had this cyst beside my right eye for the past...eight to ten years? It's just a tiny white dot, barely noticeable, not even an issue. Lately, though, ALLLL the ones in my earlobes and the one beside my eye have been acting up, so I've been scratching at the one beside my eye absentmindedly.

The other day, I was plucking my eyebrows in my mom's super-magnified mirror when I noticed that the cyst looked...lopsided.

And so I pinched it.

AND IT CAME OUT.


WHAT?

*~*~*WHAT?!*~*~*

I'm more upset about this than just about any other change I've gone through, as of late. MY CYST. NO. WHY NOW.

It just feels flat, beside my eye now. :c


Have you guys heard about the thirteen-year cicadas, by the way? There's a decent article on the basics here.

We've been listening to them, out on the plantation where I sometimes work. The first morning, actually, my coworker and I thought it was an alarm going off in the classroom we use for school field trips (if you live around here, you've probably been). Like a really LOUD alarm. One that never stops. EVER.

They're everywhere, though. It's kind of comforting, especially at night. Southern summers are always so noisy, but it's a calming type of noisy. It's one of the few things that still manage to remind me of childhood.

Blah.

My last blog was a rant because, nowadays, I always have the urge to punch someone in the face. Not as a personal problem, unless you consider people to be my personal problem.


Also, I'm signing up for a sailing class.


WHO AM I?

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YEAH, IT'S ABOUT YOU.
Saturday. 5.21.11 12:37 am
Be it extremely emotional, controversial, messed up, or whatever, this entry has been password protected.

If you know it, enter it; or, ask me for it.

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