deliriumcrow: (Default)
it's always the same no matter what happens or who with. it's always little boys who cannot decide what they want and who haven't the moral fortitude to finish what they started, or keep their promises. you want compromise? don't expect me to give everythign then. don't think that i'm some replaceable little tart who you can keep around when you want me and discard when you don't. if i trust you, i exoect the smae in return. if i give of myself, then i expect a little respect in return.

i don't hate you and that's the problem. if i did i could just write this off as another stupid mistake, and i cant do that. not with you. you never asked for the things you say you gave up for me, and i never wanted them from you in the first place. all i asked was that you come back when you were done. but instead you give them up and treat me as though i did ask it of you, and that ... mature people do not do that.

you are a bastard and an asshole and for no good reason at all, even though i do not want to, i stil love you. i would still do anything for you, give anything, just to have you with me. even though you could never give the same respect to me. you are too weak, and too scared to accept life as it is, and that is your fault and none of mine. you said you never would but you hurt me regularly, and i hate you for that. yes, hate. it's not so different from love, if you think about it.
deliriumcrow: (Default)
I Cannot Read Any More Articles About Chaucer. Not today. Tomorrow maybe, but god. I am saturated now. Too much already! And now I have to sort out exactly *what* I have read, and stop being so very annoyed at certain articles. For misinterpreting certain words, reading them in a modern definition instead of a Middle English one. Because it changed, it did, and while there may have been some ambiguity, it wasn't enough to justify saying that the Wife of Bath was a typical victim figure, with the Domestic Abuse Syndrome, or whatever the hell it's called. I'm sorry, she was not weak, or a convincing victim. One wonders wheter they actual read the bloody text.

Anyway.

Remy came to class today, and went to the history major's unch meeting, which was fun. And tasty. And then we walked about town, and he called the people who want to interview him and set up an interview, and he has one! Friday, in Albany next week, and this is good. Interviews are good and happy things, especially when imminently moving. Jobs are better, but you start where you can. Town was interesting, and I'm sad that I enver explored it more. It's really pretty, and full of interesting things on side streets I had never found before. Nifty antiques, used books, art supply places full of oddness and book binding equipment (drool) and at the aforementioned used book store I found three books that had been either lost or damaged irreprably. And bought them, because they wre cheap. Moonwise had been damaged in one flood and ruied in another, Holy Fire Remy lost yesterday, and Hellspark I lent to Kevin who now cannot find it. (or likes it so much he "can't find" it? :) ) The cover's different, but I don't want it for the cover, just the content. Though the cover had been really nifty, with this pretty redhead in spectacles lurning to look over he shoulder. It was very pleasant to look upon. And it lacks the author's afterward, telling about the linguistics and the language of gestures. I'll miss that bit. But whatever, I have the story, and that's a good one. So I'm reading it again. I should be writing papers, but I have time. Not much, but time there is. Thursday they have to be turned in. Two, anyway.

And I'm making another doll. 18th century wood, this time actually 18th century, as opposed to questionably so as my mother's was. She looks good so far, and her name is Melior. She will have blue stockings. The body is painted and looks lovely, acrylic with sculpey-fake glass eyes, and the limbs were just finished today. Now to make the mortise and tenon bits, and find a drill. And put her together, at last, and give her hair.... So much fun. I know why I do this. It's relaxing, and makes good results. Not that I want to make a practice of it until I get a lathe.... Then, maybe. That could be fun. And profitable. Sell them to re-enactors, and organic toy stores, or something. Prettier than barbie, and durable. Heh. Yeah. And I"m goign to take the poseable artist body, give it a head and clothes, and give her a consort or something. Which is really just to say that I want a body to make little foppish costumes for.

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