At the end of this year, this blog will be 10 years old. An entire decade of thoughts and musings transcribed.

It hasn’t been an easy 10 years. But writing here has kept me sane throughout both the good and bad times, and even if this website is really just some bytes and pixels on the Internet, I see it as my best friend in so many ways. When I am distressed, when I am happy, when I am brimming with philosophical thoughts, this is the medium I turn to in order to express those feelings. It is the only confidant in the world that will never react negatively to my honesty or use my truths against me.

I always kept the things I wrote public as a matter of principle. Some friends kept up with my posts, some didn’t. I didn’t care much either way. Anything they encountered that they didn’t like was their own problem — I never forced or even asked them to read anything that I wrote, and it was naive if they believed I was going to censor my thoughts for the sake of not offending anyone — what kind of outlet is that?

Over the past decade, adhering to this principle of free speech, if you will, has caused a lot of strife in my personal life, friendships, and relationships.

But I’ve always stood — and still stand — by what I’ve said: I don’t care if people read these things I write.

But I’ve had it with people using my own words against me. Last weekend was the last straw. I don’t feel safe in my own safe space anymore.

I will never stop writing. But as I’ve aged over the past 10 years, I’ve realized something monumentally important to surviving in this world: principles or no principles, people will hurt you. People will misinterpret you. People don’t understand each other. Most of the time, people don’t stop and think.

And naivete about this will get you nowhere.

From this point on, my posts will be locked. The website will soon follow.

Godspeed.

What?

I don’t even know.

My roommate woke me up before I could figure it out.

“Just because some cute girl likes the same bizarro crap you do doesn’t make her your soul mate.”
- 500 Days of Summer

Dear god. These feelings are getting alarmingly intense. This is Unacceptable with a capital “U.” Fuck.

You get in, you get done and then you get gone
You never leave a trace, or show your face, you get gone
Should’ve turned around and left before the sun came up again
But the sun came up again

Suddenly I’m in over my head and I can hardly breathe
Suddenly I’m floating over her bed and I feel everything

There are barely three months left before graduation. This is the most impractical thing ever. Unless something actually happens. Then it could be the best thing ever.

No, I’m not that naive.

But the boundaries of our relationship seem to be getting thinner and thinner, and it is not helping matters. Not at all.

But JJ flip, when it comes to — shudder — romance, I seem to get an awful lot of lemons.

Over the past weekend, I found out some things about Mr. Five that inevitably change my understanding of him. While I understand him better now (and admire him a little more), I also realize that, okay, maybe we wouldn’t be so good together. And not because we wouldn’t be compatible — I still think that — but because it would probably really take a toll on me. And as much as I like him, I know I deserve better than someone who would be difficult to deal with.

Ugh, is this what growing up is like? Reasoning yourself out of potential romance? Or is that just the life of a cynic?

Thursday night Coronas in the office with Sports, Multimedia, and Photo. Cool kids all around. So much more accepting and open than cliquey-ass, condescending News. Derek taught me how to scale BAM, and Kevin and I chatted about the fact that we like completely opposite genres of comics. I drank a lot of rum. Jonathan and I got pizza at Gypsy’s afterward and had a nice long talk. Ran into JD, who was drunk out of his mind and coming back from an invite where he’d been ditched by all his sorority buddies who decided to start making out with dudes while he used the restroom. Hilarity.

Friday consisted of lots of newspaper SEB srs bsns. The whole week did. Bah. Interesting yet mind-numbingly tedious. Crashed Alex’s house for a Copy Social afterward, though, which was pretty damn amazing. I carried a party in my backpack for like eight blocks. It was great. I love my staff so much.

Saturday was crammed with events. Ambled my way over to Northside at like 10 freaking a.m. for a newspaper board of directors meeting, which was pretty boring. Left around noon to head over to Image Expo, where I met Sam, who was covering the event. Was originally worried about what to wear to it (wish I’d had enough advance notice to do something cool like cosplay Invincible) since it seemed kinda awkward to wear Big Two merchandise to celebration of independent comics, but I settled for wearing my Super Soldier shirt. But then I got there and saw people in anime cosplay, Avatar: The Last Airbender cosplay, and three Batman shirts in the lobby alone. So then I felt supercool. And I got compliments AND a comic book shop owner (the guy who owns my regular LCS) trying to figure out what it was because he recognized it but couldn’t place it. Yup. Sat through a lot of panels, some of which were pretty cool and some of which were pretty pointless. Then, Sam and I walked the floor, and he bought a gazillion things that I plan to borrow, while I just got a Billy Batson and the Magic of Shazam trade (for half off!) since there weren’t many sales and I couldn’t justify splurging on stuff that was like half as cheap online. Then, Sam and I got dinner at a fancy Mexican place. The meal was super delicious, and it was cool just to chill and talk over good food and fancy drinks. When we got back to Berkeley, we ended up going to Bec’s and grabbing more drinks and talking more.

After we split, Jonathan invited me to drinking in the office, which I was planning on going to, but my roommates and their boyfriends ended up going to Free House, and I didn’t want to miss out on that, so I joined them. Then Nick texted me inviting me to Thalassa, so I headed down there. But there was some confusion, so I went to the office to find him because I thought he said he was still there, but he’d actually left, so I just used the restroom and headed down to the bar. But then my friends in the office were extremely puzzled as to who could be in the restroom and started taking bets on whether or not it was me, hahaha.

Anyway, ended up discovering at Thalassa that the world is absolutely miniscule. So absurd. Ended up catching up with Katie’s honor society friends as well as Mark’s old floormates. I’m talking like 10+ people who I knew from completely separate spheres. So random. Invited Andrew, and he ended up knowing a bunch of them, too. What the heck. Nick bought us a round of Patron shots, but I’d overdrank earlier and couldn’t do mine, so he had to finish it for the second time in a row, haha. After last call, traveled to Mihir’s house, where we got very sad because he didn’t have butter so he couldn’t make his super amazing over-easy eggs. The underaged people showed up and we just hung out for a while. Nick fell and spilled a lot, which was hilarious. Austin kept sniffing me and demanding to know what perfume I was wearing — which was both complimentary and super embarrassing because I feel like perfume is such a vain and girly thing to don. Also because I can’t tell my colognes from my perfumes anymore since I just keep them in the same bag. Ended up discussing newspaper things, inevitably, but also the state of the journalism industry and cities and interesting stuff. I always feel so lame around all these “real journalists,” but then I remember that my passion is fiction, and it’s okay.

Nick asked about Image Expo at one point because he hadn’t known it was happening, and then I felt bad for not asking him! Had assumed that he wasn’t interested, but he’s such a conhead that I should’ve known better.

I spent most of Sunday buying groceries. It was glorious.

This is my tribute to Valentine’s Day.

Had a little love, but I spread it thin
Falling in and out of her arms again
Made a bad name for my game ’round town
Tore out my heart
Shut it down

With a few simple words, you erase the anxiety and regret that has haunted me for the past three months.

“I wanted to so badly, but I couldn’t.”

“I know. I wanted you to, too. I’m sorry.”

Your kisses taste like salvation, and when I’m with you, it’s like the supernova at the end of the world.

Don’t let me go.

*

You held my pen as I watched you from across the conference table, and I swear it felt like your fingers were pressing against my very being. Damn you, and damn my feeble heart.

**

The fingers laced through yours are firm and warm, and all you can think about is that in this moment, this tiny speck in the timeline of your existence, you feel connected to another human being. The winter air is freezing around you, but your belly feels warm, and where your palms rub together as you walk together sparks white-fire hot.

The man, a writer and an intellectual, laughs and holds you close. Trading insults playfully, the pair of you twist and split and coil and meld, the sound of your indignant laugh ringing across city streets populated only by the latest stragglers making their way home from Downtown bars. The words always come easily when you’re together. You clicked so well so soon after you met; it shouldn’t be such a surprise, but it always is.

He was the first of many to notice, and the first to remind you what it’s like to live. For that you will never stop being grateful — and proud of yourself for making that bold first move.

But something went wrong along the way. What was it?

“You look good.”

In the quiet moments, you think to yourself, maybe it was you realizing that the world doesn’t have to stop for one person.

**

The taste of bile burns your throat, and you swallow hurriedly, red-faced from embarrassment.

“I wanted to text you earlier, but I didn’t want to be a dick.”

“You’re not a dick.”

You’re not a Dick, either, you think, but you’re funny in a charmingly peculiar way and a dork and you dress well and your hands are just this side of perfect, and it’s good enough.

The mouthwash is refreshingly sharp, and the taste of connection is wonderfully familiar. There is something both malicious and pure lying between you, but the press of flesh against flesh is too distracting for anything else in the world to matter.

When you curl against each other, you think, fuck what anyone says. Everything in life is fleeting — why not enjoy the feeling of coming home while it lasts?

*

You’re always drawn to him like a magnet, but your ability to make conversation without sounding dumb seems to dissolve the moment you’re given the opportunity.

It’s the end of the semester, and you think that this has gone on long enough. Why continue, why bother?

But then you remember the last time, and those bruising lips and the mad rush to get as close as possible, and you can’t resist. You take a leap, and he’s there to catch you.

“My roommates are going to think I’m such a douchebag.”

His paranoid insecurities should turn you off (too familiar) but in truth, they draw you in like a moth to flame. And when you touch, the burn is so good it almost hurts.

*

The murmur of the bar patrons’ voices is soothing as you regale your barhopping friends — “the beer crew” — with stories. Steeling yourself for rejection, you reach out, hoping that the mutual interest is still ripe for the picking and last time wasn’t just a one-time thing.

It wasn’t.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

If that first text and fumbling confession was what caused your interest to bloom, this moment — slurred speech, earnest words, and both hopes and fears being dashed — was the moment you fell. Not into love, and not into infatuation, but rather, some twisted, jumbled mess of the two.

Sometimes, you wonder if this is all the feeling your heart is capable of anymore.

*

“Thank you for lying with me and taking care of me.”

*

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

The first time is the best time.

“Is this okay?”

“We’re talking about comics in bed. How is this not the most awesome thing ever?”

**

“I don’t want a relationship.”

“Fair enough.”

Sometimes, things don’t work out.

And sometimes, that’s okay.

*

You have never been more nervous in your life as he moves closer, then away, then close again. The kiss is soft, nervous, but like that previous one — so right.

Later, when you realize he initiated it sober, you truly believe that everything you have hoped for in the past two months might actually come to pass.

**

After that amazing weekend with you, I really wanted to get coffee. You and I both know we have a lot of chemistry.

“Yeah definitely!”

Bullshit. Thanks for making me put myself out there for nothing.

(Then again, I’m just as big of a coward.

“I don’t know if I’ll have the time.”

Total bullshit.

Truth: “I don’t know if I have the balls to get into a relationship ever again.”)

The worst was when I heard what you told her and how excited you sounded about our potential date.

I was so excited, too. What went wrong?

**

Those first two weekends are a crazy blur of excitement, astonishment, and happiness.

Clicking almost instantly, talking and teasing and laughing together the whole night, even though there must be at least fifty other people milling around you. You can count on one hand the times you have ever encountered this feeling of instant connection.

A warm thigh pressed against your own — to this day, still your favorite seduction tactic. The soft buzzing of your cell phone, and the amused laugh that emanates from the man beside you.

Cold wood beneath your fingers, warm shoulders on which to rest your arms. Soft hair and plush lips, and it’s like a wild animal has been released from years of captivity.

A shy goodbye, and then suddenly, two bodies pressed together.

As sunlight peeks in through dusty blinds, affectionate hands rubbing soothing circles on a bare thigh.

“Maybe I’ll see you around this weekend.”

So this is what it feels like to live.

**

The pounding music reverberates your very being as you are jostled through the crowd. Unexpectedly and inexplicably, your fingers become linked, and your heart is about to pound through your chest.

What is happening?

Everything is hazy.

Arms loop around your waist, and when you look up, you don’t know what to think.

This kiss is unlike the rest.

There are good weekends, and then there are good weekends.

Thursday night drinking at the office. Talking about everything and nothing at all. Drunkenly running six blocks to get to the nearest liquor store before it closes at midnight. The brush of his jacket against the thin material of my cardigan. Lovely new shade of blue on an old flame. Inside jokes and serious decisions and a slurred, “My life is so much better with you in it, Elaine.”

Crazy Friday night party at a friend’s. Dressed as a blue jay but lost the prettier feather, damn. Smoke everywhere and mutual cblocking. Stealing terrible beer out of friends’ hands, shooting even worse vodka with my buddies. Giving the host $10 anyway. Deciding to add ice cream to the shots to make them more appealing. Finding a vat of pink goo. EXCITEMENT. Chugging it. Chasing with brownies. Drunkenly telling chick who has never warmed up to me that she is going to make it big in life — then, suddenly, shouting “Say My Name” at the top of our lungs together. What? Females can be so petty. Competing in contest of who can get the lowest with a bunch of dudes. CRAZY DANCING. (My legs still hurt.) Bellowing 90′s songs at the top of our lungs. Always more in my element at the afterparty. “Are you okay, dude?” An arm traveling around covered shoulders, a hand curling at the base of back. Fingers just barely brushing exposed skin. If only you weren’t so destroyed. An accidental kiss on the neck — how did that happen? “I am god.” Being offered $2 and a lamp to kick someone out of the house for the host. Drunkenly refusing. (Damn it. Could’ve used a free lamp.) “Wake up!!!”

Brunch at IHouse. Felt D. Cool view. Where do the old people come from? Never feel like a third wheel around Katie and Nar. Too busy laughing at all their jokes.

Barhopping with dear friends. Trading stories and sharing laughs. I love talking about my exploits. Had so much fun that I didn’t even text anyone else. So many new inside jokes. Drunkenly: “Seriously, high five, man, freaking congratulations, she is SO HOT. And nice and stuff.” Crashed on the couch and woke up yelling about nightmares. Or something.

Superbowl Sunday. Bought $50 worth of chips and dip. Worth it, but we ran out of chips before we ran out of dip. Followed live blogging not on the game but the ads. Mashable, you rule my world. Camaraderie was fantastic; glad I ended up staying in the apartment. We never get to do things together. Wonderful way to spend a Sunday.

Awesome way to spend a weekend, especially after being depressed and pissed off for so much of the week. I even got work done! (Some of it involved NUMBERS.)

It’s getting to be like the old days, when I didn’t have anyone to talk to about real things, things that mattered. The things I want to talk about. Every time I talk to anyone or even tell people about my evenings, I end up getting in arguments or having to defend myself. So I keep my mouth shut nowadays. I feel muffled, but it’s better than the alternative.

And anyway, that’s what writing and things like this are for.

I’m seeing Mr. Five and Mr. Light again. Not going to deny that it’s kind of awesome. Since the new year, I decided that I’d stop initiating or trying. To my complete surprise, both started talking to me soon after that resolution. On the same day. JJ Flip, the world works in strange ways.

So hey. I took it as a sign to run with it. They seem to be putting in more effort — or perhaps this is just a trick of the light, now that I’m no longer invested in trying for anything with a modicum of seriousness. Whatever it is, I like it. I like having my expectations set low so that I keep being surprised. And I like that my confidence gets me the things I want, like a good conversation over a pitcher of beer and a warm body. I am very pleased with the way things are.

I had a sense that I had only to make a move and he would reply to it. I wondered, why shouldn’t I? Why shoudln’t I escape from this desert if only for half an hour?
- Sarah, The End of the Affair, Graham Greene

I don’t think people get it. This is the phase of my life for which I’ve been waiting for a long time. I have always romanticized one-night stands. (I did always imagine it would be girls I would be with, though that was probably not a very realistic hope.) Half of my characters are girls who boldly Do Not Give a Shit. What does it mean? It means that I’ve always been terrified of commitment. It means that I’ve always idealized the people and the lifestyle of not having to give a shit. And at last, I’m living like Arralee, like Andy, like Madeline, like the Ginny in MLitD. And I love it.

What I hate is how much everyone keeps trying to turn me back.

I don’t think they understand that this is the ultimate manifestation of a lot of things I’ve always wanted. And I used to think that I could convince them and make them understand, but it’s not working, and now talking about it only frustrates me. People keep accusing me of kidding myself, or of being in denial, or of all this other psychological bullshit. It’s narrow-minded and imposing, and I’m sick of it. I know perfectly well that they want the best for me — but so do people who try to convert others or think they can convince people to stop being gay. So I won’t give them the chance.

Sometimes, I think they liked it better when I was sad last semester because I kept wanting more than I was getting. I wish they’d understand that I’m at peace with this now. There are three flipping months left. I don’t want to invest in anything. I just want to have fun and make good memories. I just want to do the things I want to do.

Mr. Streets asked me out to dinner again today. That’s probably the fifth time. I felt bad. The last thing I want to do is lead him on. So I turned him down. And his response was the same thing I said when I got turned down last semester.

“Fair enough.”

Really. It’s pretty funny how the world works.

we live in a generation of not being in love, and not being together

Relationships are fleeting, and forever is bogus. Why not have a good time while I’m still at my prime?

she’s not made like those other girls

When Lot’s wife looked back, she turned into a pillar of salt. I like that. Getting too caught up in the past will only destroy you. I’ve spent so much of my life being stuck in the past. Regretting. Hating change.

It’s time to live.

I have a new life now. One I like — one that fulfills me. It’s not the same one I had before, but it’s good. Maybe even better.
– Barbara, Birds of Prey #8

Break is ending, and with that, I’m starting to think about this next semester. This next, last undergraduate semester. Crazy how final everything seems.

Being in charge of the night department is so weird. Lots of expectations and pressure on my shoulders. I refuse to buckle, though. It will be worth it. It is worth it.

Been doing some BFR work over break, too. Feel really guilty. Not sure how to break it to the managers that I might not be able to attend the weekly meetings because of SEB. Still down to be committed. Crossing my fingers that they need my tech skills enough to keep me on, but I don’t know.

Web stuff is going to be interesting, too. I’m going to have to create a whole new website for my contract company, since some of the higher ups threw a fit over the consolidation of the two websites that took place last summer. Going to be using it as an opportunity to train Kelsey, which should also be interesting. I’m hoping that the small number of hours I’ll be spending in class will spare me a lot of time to make a lot of money. I’m going to need it. 2011 was a very spendy year.

And then there are job apps. Looking into and applying to everything from my goal job (production assistant) to things like e-books manager and technical writer and web producer. Designer and UI developer are the reach jobs. Sigh. Feel kinda weird since a lot of my friends are still going to be in school (either undergrad or grad) while I hopefully get out there and make a life for myself. I just hope I’m not overconfident!

In non-work-related news, I got myself a Nook Tablet (for half the price)! Delightful little thing. Fanfiction reads like a dream on it. So fantastic.

Adventure Time is my new love. It is utterly brilliant. I can’t decide whether I want a Finn or want to be Finn.

Am relieved to be over Mr. Five. Still think about him, but I am no longer deluded that anything is going to happen between us. Not saying I want things between us to stop, though. I like having FBs, although tossing a “W” in there would be preferred. Well, there’s a whole semester ahead of me. I think these senior dudes, like me, don’t really see any reason to get committed so late in the game. Even thinking about starting to date someone and having to deal with post-college drama gives me a headache. I really don’t want to hurt someone again. But, well. There’s no saying where this semester’s going to take us.

• Learn to be punctual. (This failed completely. Frick.)
• Go to sleep and wake up at decent, normal-people times. (It’s been difficult, but I’ve managed. Ish.)
• Swear (even) less.
• Exercise. (At least I feel like a gross lump if I don’t get any.)
• Finish (or at least be close to finishing) a zero draft of the Pantheon story.
• Publish at least two more fanfiction installments/new stories. (3!)
• Read at least seven new books outside of school. (20!)
• Get only B’s and higher.
• Hit LVL 85 on WoW. (So close!)
• Max a DC Universe Online character.
• Keep staying well-informed/up-to-date with news (politics, tech, nerdyshiz).
• Keep a record of finances.
• Call people more.
• Do something productive over the summer.

Dude. I’ve done pretty well this year. Yay! The punctual thing, as well as the inability to keep track of finances, are definitely big things I really need to work on, though. The calling people thing has to do with initiating stuff, which I still struggle with. A lot. Social anxiety, you suck.

Okay, for next year, I want to:

• Be more punctual, damn it.
• Get a job.
• Exercise!
• Reply to texts and e-mails faster.
• Read 15 books outside of school.
• Be thriftier.
• Do NaNoWriMo!
• Participate in either a Big Bang or a gift exchange.
• Travel somewhere new.
• Drink in a more controlled manner.
• Not go home with anyone with whom I don’t feel comfortable and enthusiastic about.
• Learn to bake more!