holy fuck it's 4am

I just finished Season 2 QAF. I don't think season 3 is out yet, and honestly, I don't think I could take it. I've been sniffling and sobbing like a 2 year old with a scraped knee through the last 2 discs.

I have all kinds of weird random quotes in my head.

First Wives Club: "I drink because I am a sensitive person" "No, that's why your co-stars drink!"

Mostly, I think, because I can't imagine anyone tolerating my neuroticness. Tonight is particularly an exposed-wire sort of mental night.

Four Weddings and a Funeral: "I am as ever in bewildered awe of anyone who makes the kind of commitment"
LotR: "All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you.

Monogamy absolutely astounds me. Wow, I can feel the lack of coherence seeping from my mind. I think I just find it absolutely terrifying to trust someone that much. There just aren't enough guarantees out there. And you can just imagine exactly why someone like Brian acts the way he does in QAF. Brian's storyline, I think, makes me bawl the most.

Damage: "Damaged people are dangerous, they know they can survive."

You can't be safe. You can't be sure that the person you love won't completely devastate you, and yet if you're brave enough, you have to open yourself up to the kind of crushing misery you may know you can't survive.. (Yeah. Clearly some bad breakups under the belt here). I feel like I could never do that again. The potential good couldn't outweigh the potential risk. Yes, yes, a life lived in fear, is a life half lived. Blah.

God. Want a drink. Or 5. And a cigarette. And Sean Bean. Um. Should go to sleep. Not making any sense.

tobytobytoby

Ahhh. So reading west_wing_fans is making me crazily miss first, second season WW.

Ahhhh Toby. How I love thee. Richard Schiff just blows me away. Even this season, with the crappy dialogue and bizarre out of character behavior, the man just owns his lines.

'I was just thinking about this cartoon I once saw. A bunch of tiny fish are swimming through the leaves of the plant but then one of the fish realizes it's not a plant, it's the tentacles of a predator. And the fish says, "with friends like this, who needs anemones?" '

"Of course I wrote a concession. You want to tempt the wrath of whatever from high atop the thing?"

"I'm going to make a suggestion which might help you out, but I don't want this to be mistaken for an indication that I like you."

"I agree with Josh and I agree with C.J. and I agree with Sam. And you know how that makes me crazy...."

"You know, the ancient Hebrews had a word for Jews from Westport: they pronounced it 'Presbyterian.'"

"See, sometimes if I slam on the brakes, you just run right past."

"Chances are you have certain qualities that are gonna annoy me. I don't know what they are yet, but you have a certain quality about you that says that even though you're a capitalist, you've been schooled in Eastern philosophies."

"He's not the President of the United States. He's a junior Senator from North Dakota where nobody lives! 'Cause it's too cold and they don't have a major sports franchise."

"I feel like I've lost 180 pounds. I am smiling, I am laughing, I am enjoying the people I work with -- I gotta snap outta this. What's on your mind."

Yeah. I think I'm going to have to buy the first season dvd. The watched-to-tatters vhs tapes and mpg files just aren't cutting it. Season 1 is worth spending money on.

Ahhhhh. Ok. Now. Must. Clean.

scattering thoughts

Having a really weird food day. Haven't eaten yet today and feel vaguely apathetic towards food. Yet, surrounded by it. Making brisket in the crockpot, which smells good. Defrosting meats for meatloaf for later on this week. Discovered I had some thawed porkchops in fridge and figured better cook them and store before they go bad. Wish I could freeze them again.

Yet I have no desire whatsoever to eat. At all.

Idly cleaning here and there. Picked up living room. Straightened out kitchen and bedroom. Dishes done. Doing laundry. Rearranged hall closet. Should mop, dust, vacuum, etc but don't feel like it. Figure I'll pick up everything, organize and straighten out, and then on Wednesday will mop/vacuum to maximize potential neatness for when I return. It sounds organized, but it's just a great way to put off what I don't want to do today.

Hustling through Hotel New Hampshire for tomorrow's bookclub meeting. Planning on meeting Ellie/Judy for breakfast tomorrow and some light shopping. Then bookclub. Then home. THEN will start Tuesday's project.

I don't think it will take very long. I've got 90% of the re-design done. Now just have to write a stupid report detailing why I did what I did, etc. And prepare 6min presentation for class. *cries* I hate public speaking. It completely freaks me out. I'm awful at it, lots of ums, errs and downcast eyes. Also when I'm nervous, I talk at twice the speed as I normally do, which causes two problems. First, it means I have to prepare a 12 minute speech. Second, it means regardless what I say, no one will understand me.

It was very cool remembering that Hawk had a journal. It sprang me off into looking up other rasfwrjers and that was exciting. It's weird. I started this thing purely because Sarah had sent me a code. I hadn't considered that anyone would ever read it besides her. So how much do you censor your own journal? I mean, of course there's a sense of this being public content, so yeah, don't mention where you buried Hoffa's body, etc. And it's not the same as having an active audience, eagerly anticipating your next pearls, thus feeling the need to produce a worthy document. Well. outside of the realm of wanting a journal to have worthy content to someone, if only oneself.

I was wondering last night what my journal says about me. Why, yes, I am that neurotic: which my journal definitely expresses. I wonder if I ought to be embarrassed by the sheer volume of whine-age. Of complaining about homework. Celebrity lust. Catty comments here and there. Megalomania. I'm worried about how meta this is.

I worry that I worry so much.

I know I could make this friends only. Could have done this from the start and only told Sarah about my lj. Sarah, who is possibly one of the few people I just *am* with, and to hell with the consequences; who, remarkably has stuck around despite it. Or maybe because of it.

It's weird to have a place displaying the insides of you, versus the carefully constructed exterior. I wonder what the journal of my exterior self would look like. I wonder what would happen if I could shut off my brain and not think about pointless things that I know don't matter, don't mean anything.

Ok. Simply must stop typing.