Also

"Barista" appears to be a unisex term.  This seems emasculating.  I like it.

The world continues to turn

I am now a "barista".  This is an ancient spanish word, meaning "coffee slave".  It is an ancient and noble tradition, mostly consisting of me taking orders from people, preparing coffee, and absorbing verbal abuse when they inevitably accuse me of preparing the wrong beverage.

I have been informed I am not allowed to abuse back.  I believe this to be a gross violation of my human rights, and I shall be contacting Amnesty International at my earliest convenience.

Fool me six times

Mary and I have made up.  For some reason, I apologized for what I said.  She told me she would try harder to be more considerate and, apparently, I believed her.

Maybe I'm being too hard on her.  She has, occasionally, been there when I have needed her, including several very vital times.

It just seems as though the older we get, the less she gives and the more she asks.  I get so tired of it some days.

Maybe I should just make more friends.  Better friends, perhaps.

Perhaps I will make my  first ever label, "Bitching about Mary".

It's oddly liberating.  I'm taking a moment to absorb the grand splendor of the situation.

Help me

Oh god.

Dates everywhere.

Tell my laptop I loved it.

Well, now that the fanfare has died

So, now that everyone in the world knows that I'm engaged, back to History!

...

Kill me now, please.  Do it quickly.  Or slowly, so long as it takes less time than History Class.

Suck it, sis

WHO'S THE FAVORITE NOW, BITCH?

Prognosis

Yes.

Yes he indeed will.

And also, he has provided me with a simple gold band, upon which is a very impressive diamond.

I said yes.

But really, the cherry thing is more impressive.

I have no head for this

My final elective.  History.

I have no head for dates.  This would be why I have put this off for so long.  Oh well.  My comfort is that it won't be for much longer.  But the summer classes are just so...intensive.  I am learning a semester's worth of information in a month and a half.

I would much rather be sitting in bed, reading War of the Worlds and eating cherries off my boyfriend's stomach than sit here listening to the nigh endless tirade of wars and battles and months and years.

Oh well.  At least I have some solace in this fine theme. 

I wonder if he truly would let me eat cherries off his stomach.

I suppose there's only one way to find out.

This

This forever.

What

What do you mean I need to take another semester of history?

The bitter taste of angst

My best friend and I had a fight today.  I may have said a few things she will regret.  When I was in high school, I longed for the day when I would be free of the cloak and dagger ever-present in interactions with my fellows.  Oh, college, I thought, stars in my eyes and whimsy in my voice, surely that will be a freedom from petty bullshit and shrill, backstabbing shrieks.

No, unfortunately, people continue to be people, even in college.  Imagine my shock.

I suppose I should abbreviate this rant and get back to my other one.  A pity.

Have you ever met someone who takes something from you, without asking, without checking to see if maybe you needed it, and then doesn't tell you, and you spend the  entire day looking for it, and she says, "Oh, sorry,  I didn't think you would need it."

She keeps doing things like this.  I really should just stop being her friend, because sometimes it feels less like a friendship and more like being someone's cleverly composed series of alibis.  She only cares if I'm useful to her.

And somehow, she's still my best friend.  I am honestly flabbergasted by how utterly taken in with her I am.  I guess it's her charisma.  Parasite or not, she's oozing with it.

Well, at any rate, she may not be my friend anymore.  I'm not sure if I'm happy or sad about this.