***

I was thinking about pretending that my computer had been down for a month, or that the king of the potato people wouldn't let me update, or something, but no. I. am. a. bum. End of story.

***

See, for a week or so, I convinced myself that I had to leave that "Truth" entry up a little longer. I told a few people that it was there, so naturally, I had to leave it up. Besides, it was just so clever of me, having one entry called "Lies" immediately followed by one called "Truth." Wasn't that clever? I thought it was clever.

Then, there were a few weeks when I didn't even make it online. It's so very strange, the way every single one of my priorities has shifted since moving here. I used to get twitchy and irritable if I went a weekend without my computer, because it was pretty much all I had. Now, I have friends. I go out. I talk with real people, instead of pixels. When I have a night to myself, I usually decide I'd rather just snuggle up with the kitty and a good book. The computer, in the gaming room, is just too far away.

And maybe, I'm a little afraid that I'll get sucked in, and I'll start foregoing this new real life that I'm enjoying so much, to play in the same old virtual one. That scares me. This internet revolution that all the kids are talking about just might have to go on without me for a while.

***

So, what have I been doing for the past month? Hmm. I worked a lot. I smoked a lot. I read a lot. See? You didn't miss a thing.

***

Pretty much the only thing that might be newsworthy is that D. is talking about going back to school again. We had the initial conversation during that special time of the month, and for absolutely no reason at all, I found myself in tears.

He was saying I needed to go to grad school, and I should pick where we moved to, because my scholastic needs are a lot more specific than his. I tried to explain that I don't want to go to grad school. I don't really have a clear idea what I want longterm, but I don't think grad school is it. He said he just didn't want to pick a school, and then have me decide two months later that I needed to go somewhere else. I said that wasn't likely.

If I've been on hold this long, I can't see me suddenly knowing what I want in two months, or ever. As I was saying it, I knew it was true, and it was about then that the overwhelming truth of still not knowing who I am or what I want sunk in, and I started crying.

Instantly, he was comforting me, and I was feeling like an idiot, but I couldn't stop. Damn hormones. I finally managed to tell him that since he has an idea what he wants, I was more than willing to follow him for a while, but because I was still crying, I could tell he didn't believe me.

We talked about it again the other day. He said a tech school would probably be best for him. Only two years, a lot cheaper, and a lot more useful. Then, if he wanted a liberal arts degree, he could do that part time. With a better job, he could then afford to go to a real school, and the school would look and see "Tech College" as his last schooling, and not "Gamed and partied myself out of a mid-range good college ten years ago." Thankfully, I didn't cry at all this time. It hurt, but I even agreed with him that he should go to school somewhere where we don't know anyone, because then he'd be better able to concentrate on his studies. And maybe I could finally put a real dent in my heap o' books.

***

Jeez. I have too damn much to say. Maybe I should look into setting this thing up like Shiitake, with hyperlinked footnotes. Let's just pretend I've done that.

So, go back up to where I said "damn hormones" and imagine that you saw a link to this following paragraph:

I honestly don't know what's wrong with me. My cycles seem to go in cycles. Some months, I'm fine, but other months, I'm just plain scary. But I only worry about it for one week a month, and I only really worry about it maybe one month in four, so I'm pretty sure that worrying about it is just another symptom of it.

There. That wasn't so bad, was it? (I'm going to spare you the footnote inside that particular footnote, the one about how horribly repressed I am, that even mentioning my cycles has me feeling a little uncomfortable. I'm a dirty dirty girl.)

But I'm not mentioning that one. You read the one footnote about my cycles, and you didn't read the one about me being a dirty dirty girl, because it wasn't really there. Now, you should be reading the original paragraph again. Keep reading. Finish that paragraph, and read the next one too. Yadda yadda tech school, yadda yadda flunked out, yadda yadda he really seriously wants to be a student this time, and then I mentioned the books. Right here, I'm gonna need another footnote:

I have roughly fifty million books I haven't read. You know this. I know this. But when I'm looking for something to read, my eyes keep being drawn to the part of the bookshelf filled with stuff I've already read. It's very strange.

"Wow. This was a really good book. I bet I haven't read it in...six months!"

I think I like re-reading almost better than reading sometimes. I know the story, and I can instead concentrate on the literary techniques. I love realizing that one paragraph that I probably glossed over the first time is blatant foreshadowing. I love noticing subtle underlying themes. I love rediscovering why a book originally stuck in my mind.

See, I know I can do this. The main advantage to not being in school is that I can read exactly what I want, when I want. If I choose to read Slaughterhouse-Five until I can recite it backwards, that is my choice. By spending so many years reading because I had to, I've earned the right to make that choice for myself. But I still feel a little guilty about it.

***

OK, no more footnotes for now. You may now return to the line of thought way back before I started getting silly. I think I was talking about D. going back to school or something.

I was going to talk about how serious is he, really, and what would it mean if he really is serious, but to be perfectly honest, I'm beat. Those footnotes really took it out of me.

I really hope I update again sometime soon.

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