When I was in high school, I had a boyfriend who was a Muslim. He liked getting free things, and part of that involved eating people’s lunch when they didn’t want it. He told me that he remembered all those nice providers of free lunch by what they had on their sandwiches. Some people would have chicken. Some people would have cheese. Others would have salad. And one girl would always have “the pink meat”. Yes, that’s right. My lovely Muslim boyfriend had unknowingly been scabbing ham sandwiches for all those years.
Well, some of them do, anyway. Most dreams are terrific. But when they hijack your emotions and distort your perception of reality? That is just not on. When I woke up this morning, I was in love with a fictional character. In my sleep last night, I went to a fancy city sort-of place, along with several of my (fictional) friends. One of them was my boyfriend. He had dark hair, and looked a little like a cross between Harry Lloyd and someone with a shorter neck. His name was Jordan, and we were very much in love. The city we were in was rather small, probably more of a village, but bustling, and it had sort of a Qarthish vibe to it. But it was big enough to contain a zoo. At some point during our visit to the zoo, Jordan managed to break both of his ankles. Somehow he was still standing, so it took a while for me to convince him to go to the hospital – which was also inside this supposedly tiny city. As he was gone, the rest of the girls and I went to this row of nightclubs. Okay, everywhere we go in this dream is inside the city, so just take my word for it that this supposedly small city is actually rather big. One of the nightclubs in the lane was the .Katy Perry nightclub. Whoever names venues in this city appears to be lacking imagination-wise. But anyway, while the Katy Perry nightclub was a nightclub in name, it most definitely wasn’t an actual nightclub. It was more like a giant bathroom. There were two storeys to it. The first floor contained a bath, and the second floor contained a shower. But the Katy Perry nightclub wasn’t an ordinary bathroom, oh no. The taps in its bath and shower did not dispense water, but rather, they dispensed milk. Or more specifically, they dispensed milk that smelled like liquid milko chews. The Katy Perry nightclub was really quite delicious. After we had gone there, we continued along the lane to the other nightclubs. As we had our fun, we kept an eye out for Jordan, who was taking an abnormally long time. Finally, after a mix-up with someone’s ID, we decided to take a break. I’ll take this time to explain the layout of the places we went to in the city. The nightclub lane was in the West, with the Katy Perry nightclub towards the outside of the city. In the North-East was the zoo, with the hospital directly to its West. Just South of the zoo and the hospital, directly in front of their entrances, was a large grassy circle area, with benches facing in around it. As we had our break and waited for Jordan, we sat on one of the Southernmost benches, facing the hospital. Finally, after a few minutes of sitting and talking, I spotted Jordan hobbling towards us with red and purple casts on his legs. I waved and shouted out to him, and then noticed my old boyfriend from high school a few metres in front of him, who had thought I was waving to him. We awkwardly caught each others’ gaze and looked away, before Jordan finally reached us at the bench.
This happens to me surprisingly often. I already posted about the time I woke up feeling like I had too many kidneys. And the time I had a crush on a fellow uni student for several weeks following a dream. I haven’t posted about the time it happened while I was dating that old high school boyfriend. I had dreamt that I was in the shed room they passed off as a classroom – the one next to the Omega toilets, on the side that the sports shed was not – with a very attractive young man. He had curly dark hair, and having recently watched Misfits, I could compare him to a smaller-eyebrowed version of Nathan. But anyway, I was fooling around with (let’s just call him Nathan for convenience’s sake) Nathan in the shed room, and one thing led to another, and we ended up having sex. And I bloody well loved it. Which is really quite hilarious. But anyway. When I woke up, I felt like I had cheated on my boyfriend. Like, I actually liked this fictional Nathan guy. And I had gone further with him than I had with my boyfriend. I felt bad about it for a few weeks after that. It was all very strange. And now it’s all very strange again. Because I have once again fallen for a fictional character that my dream-self made up. Thanks, brain. Thanks a lot.
A while back, someone recommended that I watch the show Misfits. I was watching other things at the time, so I didn’t watch it for ages, but they kept on trying to force it on me. They told me that one of the characters was an immortal, arrogant, narcissistic sociopath, and that I would like him. Now, I don’t know if it was the case, but the way they said it (and the fact that our relationship with each other was extremely temperamental) sounded like they were having a go at me, and saying that I would like him because I was the same.
Well I finally started watching Misfits last night. And let me tell you, I am addicted. I’m already up to the fourth episode of the second season. Thankfully I had forgotten about the immortality part by then – because who the fuck spoils the end of the first season as part of their recommendation of a show? But I spent the first couple of episodes wondering about this arrogant narcissistic sociopath. I figured out pretty quickly that Nathan was pretty arrogant and a tad (in the colloquial sense) narcissistic. But he’s definitely not a narcissist, and there is no sociopath in sight. And even more problematic – I do not like Nathan. Nathan is a dick. I can picture myself in a school or college environment with these people. Nathan and Kelly would be the classmates I actively disliked. They would be the Madisons and the Taylors who were antagonistic to me for no reason other than the fact that they could be. Curtis and Alisha would be the classmates who were too different to me for us to get along. We wouldn’t fight or anything; We’d just be in different groups. But Simon… Simon would be me. He would be quiet, and when he spoke it would seem forced and awkward. He would feel so invisible that he would be shocked whenever someone noticed him or knew who he was. He would retreat to his shows and games so much that they would be the only things he really knew how to talk about.
Simon is the character I like the best, because he is the only character I identify with. And if that person did in fact mean that comment the way I thought they did at the time, then it just shows that they knew me even less than I knew them. And that is just the final confirmation that we were never meant to be.
The other day I was moving into the spare room, and I found a notebook in my closet. In it, it had something I had written many years ago (I think I must have been about 14 or so), and it was entitled ‘Romantic Boyfriend’s Guide to [My Name]’. So I thought I’d share it:
1. Stealing the Caitlyn Court street sign and giving it to me wrapped up as a present is probably the awesomest thing you could ever do.
2. Writing me a love song would have to be the most romantic.
3. My engagement ring must be white gold, preferably with a diamond about 3mm in diameter in the middle, with a smaller diamond on each side.
4. If you are a wicked-awesome graffiti artist, a romantic proposal is to paint “Marry me Caity” on a wall in big, fancy, colourful letters, and take me there, get down on one knee, and ask me (with a ring).
5. Otherwise, a romantic proposal would be to write it in a big heart in the sand on a nice beach, take me for a walk on the beach at sunset, and get down on one knee beside it and ask me (again, with that ring).
6. It would be really cool if you got me the fanciest engagement-like plastic/silver/steel ring in the world, put it in a fancy box, and proposed with that before I chose my own ring.
7. I will be very disappointed if your proposal includes pyjamas, a fight, a ring in a champagne glass, no ring at all, or anything incredibly boring. Or a half-assed effort.
8. “Marry me Caity” fortunes inside fortune cookies, on the other hand, I will accept.
9. If you are certain I love you and will marry you, then hijacking the microphone at an awesome concert is cool too.
10. And finally, if you know what is good for you, you will forfeit all rights in the naming process of any children.
I think the lamest part is that I still agree with half of these. No, actually, the lamest part is that while typing this, I ‘corrected’ graffiti into graffitti, only to find that my past self actually can spell better than me.
Edit: Google is a fucking bastard. Clearing outdated cache does not do a thing to remove search results.
So I haven’t posted in a while, and I realise that my last post was about how I like Tiernan. And that was what, 2 weeks ago? Well, since then, things happened. Well, Jess’s (yes, I am one of those people who adds an extra S after the apostrophe. No, I will not stop just because it is grammatically incorrect) party mainly. Tiernan asked me out. 🙂 I’m like a little schoolgirl, I get so excited. We’re now official! And no, I won’t post any details of anything, that has happened or ever does happen, on the internet.
You know how sometimes you can never be attracted to someone physically, and then all of a sudden you get feelings for them? Well, that wasn’t the case. Way back when I first went up to second floor, I found Tiernan pretty hot. I always thought he was the hottest second floorer (no offense anyone else, but it is fitting after all). He has long, dark, curly hair. I love his hair. 🙂 I even like his facial hair, which is really weird for me. And his eyes are green. At first I thought they were brown, but they’re actually green. And they have flowers in them. I like his clothes. Particularly his jackets. Although I’m not sure which one I prefer yet… And I don’t know if I’ve already mentioned his voice before or not, but it’s awesome too. And he says excellent! How awesome is that? People always seem to think it weird when I say excellent… 😦
Anyway, I’ll stop being crazy now. I should probably go off and teach myself a subject I still don’t know anything about, 2 weeks before the exam. That’s what, 24 lectures and 12 weeks of readings? Yeah, I’m sure to ace this…