Sup.

I'm not going to start with "It's been a while..."

So what's happened since I last posted? I finished PI 100 with only a 2.00 because I did not go with the class to the shitstorm that was a field trip, I didn't stab anyone trying to get a PE class last June (I got 2, so yey me, I may still graduate on time), I changed my thesis topic from Postmodern Film Commentary to Drag Culture in Media, aaaaaaand that's pretty much it (school-wise, anyway).

I got a BlackBerry to replace the really sad excuse for a phone that I was using when my poor sweet iPhone died on me (finally, after 2-ish years), I've pined over Yohan every day for the post, oh, 5 months, I've gotten myself a Paul (and this is the first time I mention his name on the Internet that is not Facebook), and I've written more decent poems in a couple of weeks than I have ever in my whole life (minus the couple of weeks, obviously).

I understand Postmodernism just a tiny bit more, and I've gotten better at making friends with people whom I normally wouldn't even think of thinking about, I've given a lot of really helpful advice (I think) to people who think they need it. I know better. I always do.

A visiting professor from the University of Manchester is teaching us Hispanic Literature. Her name is Rocio.

the problem is

that i know no one is ever going to take me seriously. i'll always be the annoying fat fag, and he'll be the cool hipster-y person who takes amazing photos and isn't fat.

so yes, i will claw at anyone who attempts to come near him, because he's the last person who will take me seriously. and when he finds someone else, i will be left alone with the son of henry kipping, dying from despair because my cousin did not come back for me.

for a while there i though i was leonor rivera. i'm fine now.

For the jerk who kissed so well, he broke my heart.

After a long time
that was the first time
that I felt my lips
melt into another's

As you grabbed my hips
and I scratched your back
I could feel my soul
leave my body behind

I felt it, your tongue
sliding over mine
and when you bit me
I almost cried

when I got home
I smelled of smoke
and of frying fish
and of desperation

     for the jerk who kissed so well, he broke my heart

From the notebook

As of now, I don't think I'll ever see him as less than "the boy I loved with all my heart." I can't be friends with him, and I don't think I'll be able to move on from him. I mean, he's Yohan. The Yohan.


As I write, SNSD's Time Machine is playing in the background. You can just go ahead and Google the lyrics + translation.

It was, simply

It could have been a metaphor for something like

Maybe if you try too hard, you end up on the ground. Hurt and alone, and with a whole lot of noise blaring around you. If you wait for something so specific, so improbable, and then put all your strength into it, you end up with nothing. Nothing but pain.

but I'm sure it's not.

Or it could have been a sign. A sign of things to come. I will get hurt with the things I love the most.

but I'm sure it's not.

It was, simply, my knee snapping as I danced to Girls' Generation's latest hit The Boys. And me falling to the ground with the girls still screaming in my ears.