Oh, I missed the theatre! I haven't been to a show since March, and that's forever for me. Although, I went three times in March to the best show ever, and I think I was too frightened to go to Stratford because I knew that I wouldn't be watching Evil Dead, but still. It had been months since I've seen a play, and it was generally no more than a handful of weeks in between before. I have to start going again, regularly.

A friend and I went to see Avenue Q, which was exactly what I needed because it was (a) exceptionally well done, (b) funny, and (c) the perfect piece to ease me back into theatre. It was phenomenal. It's hard to explain unless you got see that troupe exactly, but the cast was perfect and they had such impeccable timing. I really enjoyed it.

In other news, the "friend" I went with . . . It doesn't matter how it happened, but he knows there's not going to be anything other than friendship between the two of us. He is a nice guy, though he has some strange mannerisms which make me (a)uncomfortable and/or (b) angry. Like, have you ever met someone who has a way of speaking so that they treat every word out of their mouth as some momentous revelation, even if it's just a story about going to the movies three days ago with a friend? He speaks like that. And I'm sitting there going, "Okay, William Shatner, your life isn't that revolutionary." Anyway.

Also (and no offence to those people who read this that can't), but it pisses me off when people can't drive (except you, Erin *loves*). And maybe it's sexist, because it's not as strong as feeling towards women, but when I meet men who can't drive, all I can think is, "You've got to be fucking kidding me." I don't care if you can't afford a car, I don't care if you live in the city and think you don't need it. It's not that bloody hard to get your damn license.

So this guy meets me at school and I ask him, "Do you have a vehicle or are we taking mine?" And he replies, "I can't drive." I am immediately annoyed, disappointed, and put off. If Christian has suddenly become a requirement to dating me, having your license just turned into one as well. And owning your own vehicle is major bonus. I'm your girlfriend, not your fucking chauffeur. I need you to at least be able to drive my car now and then. Preferably take me out in yours on occasions. Even more preferably, in a nice pick-up truck. I suppose that's the country girl in me.

This is all a thinly veiled revelation that I have feelings for a guy I barely know - hell, I don't even know his name, just where he works and that he always flirts with me. And I don't know what to do about it.

Part one of this post is going to be Whoverse speculation, including spoilers for Torchwood: Children of the Earth and Doctor Who: Waters of Mars. In part two, I complain about my love life (read: lack thereof). So consider yourself forewarned.

( spoilers and self-pity ahoy! )

In other news, I'm in a mood where the only music I want to hear between now and the new year are Christmas carols.

A longer update is coming but in the meantime I have a message:

Facebook? I'm really annoyed with your new feature "Reconnect with this person!" Especially when the featured person is an ex-boyfriend I'm no longer in contact with for a reason. Mind your own damn business, Facebook.

ETA: Or making me feel guilty that I haven't spoken to my cousin since we were both eight. Thanks a lot, Facebook.

Not gonna lie, I don't really know what to update about. But it's been a week. I was going to talk about Halloween, but other than it was awesome I don't really know what to say. I was a little . . . disappointed, for various reasons that I had better not explain here, lest I provoke some hurt feelings again.

School is going extremely well, except for the stress. Every time that I think, "Maybe I can't do this," there is some sort of sign that I'm exactly where I need to be. Where I'm needed to be, is maybe more accurate. We watched a film called "Digging By The Book" in which passages in the Bible were used to locate archaeological dig sites. The piece on Jerusalem was, simply, spiritual. I was so moved, nearly in tears. Probably the only one in the entire room, but that's okay. I've met a lot of great people, but the first thing that I noticed was that I am doing this for different reasons than they are.

I wouldn't expect much from me this month, either, as it's paper season again! I'm so far behind on all my shows, and spending time with friends, and I'm starting to realize that I don't care because I love this stuff. It's sinking in that this, archaeology, is going to be the be all and end all of my life now, and I'm okay with that. I'm beyond okay with that.

We had a meeting to discuss the upcoming field school in Jordan (how exciting!), so ideally I get to go this summer, do the eight week excavation there, perhaps travel to Israel for week or so, then hopefully Germany for a week or so, and then maybe a stay in Holland while I'm overseas anyway. I'm flat broke, but I'm getting used to the idea that this is how my life is going to be. And there's always the back-up plan of becoming a nun, because it makes so much sense to me and soudns more appealing the older I get. I talked to Anatoly about becoming a nun archaeologist, like Lara Croft with water pistols shooting holy water or something. It's doable, do you think?

Because I want to say something bitter and passive-aggressive, but know that it's only going to get the people who are supposed to care about me jumping down my throat again, I'll just tell you that today my Akkadian professor came into class dressed as a band member of the Who, sat on his desk crosslegged, and led us all in a sing-along of Give Peace A Chance. University is awesome. Please don't ever make me leave.

ETA: Happy Hallowe'en, everyone!

(I'm just so busy. And mostly on slow, unreliable country Internet.)

Hope everyone has a good Hallowe'en week and weekend!

Ahahahahahaha.

The world is a strange and wonderful and embarrassing place.

In related news:
1) I'm kind of addicted to Vampire Diaries. I know, I'm shameful.
2) Supernatural (or the couple episodes I watched) is okay again. This may or may not be because Jo and her awesome MILF is/was back.
3) Ahahahahahaha.

Flist, I am livid, not to mention disgusted, disappointed, and betrayed:

Phantom: Love Never Dies.

So, something has finally tipped the scale and now I can't fucking stop crying and this sucks, because I'm supposed to be happy now. I'm supposed to be where I am supposed to be now. And I'm just a fucking mess, who can't sleep and can't get along with anyone and can't get her fucking act under control.

What the fuck is happening to me?

I may or may not be using my God-given gift (my decent-sized breasts) to get me on the Archaeology Society executive. And earning bonus points by plying the VP with beer.

Whatever. I think it's going to be a good year.

So. Being home is awesome! <3.

First of all, I was actually able to attend my nephew's birthday last weekend. And this weekend I was finally able to go to the Harriston Fall Fair for the first time in three years. I went Sunday afternoon for the demolition derby. It was my uncle's twentieth year participating, and he got second place (though everyone agreed he should have been first and that #444 - who won - was a total dickwad).

But I will tell you something. City people should stay the hell out of the country. You do not belong there. You do not understand us. You are not welcome.

This was the first year, thanks to new provincial laws, that there was a heavy OPP presence during the Fair. We've had cops help organize the parade route before (i.e. directing traffic), but we've never had them on the fairgrounds before. (They aren't needed.) Ten years ago, the only cops we had in Harriston were local people, born and raised. Now the system is different: you train to be part of the OPP, they send you wherever they decide to send you. As a result, you have city people with no concept of country living sent to these hicktowns, and they're total pricks.

We have a demolition derby. Which is cars, in a ring, smashing each other up. These cars are included in the parade, to get people excited for the derby, which is the next day. My cousin took his car in the parade. He revved his engine, squealed his tires, and people cheered. Then the OPP came over and told him he wasn't allowed to squeal his tires. A few blocks away, my cousin squealed his tires again, and again the crowd cheered. Then the OPP came over, impounded his car, and suspended his licence for seven days.

Let's look at this faulty fucking logic:
1) If you are driving with your blood alocohol level between 0.05 and 0.08, your licence is suspended for 12-36 hours. Therefore, according to the OPP, squealing your tires is a more grievous offence than drunk driving.
2) It was during a fucking parade. Parade routes are closed, and therefore regular road rules do not apply. (I'm pretty sure on this last point anyway.)
3) IT WAS A FUCKING PARADE. The whole point of having the derby cars in the parade was to get the crowd riled up.
4) IT WAS A FUCKING PARADE. Nobody cared that he squealed his tires. (Classified as "stunt driving" and punished because it "causes a disruption".)
5) It's not a legal car, anyway. It doesn't have a licence plate. Hell, it doesn't even have a key in the ignition OR a gear that the rest of the world likes to call "park". It doesn't have airbags, a driver's door that opens, a passenger seat, or tail-lights. It's not subject to the rules of the road.
6) Did I mention it was a fucking parade? You guys are there to make sure ignorant out-of-towners passing through don't accidently cross paths with the Shirner's cars and big band, not dole out criminal charges to the people IN the parade.
7) The retired chief of police, the chief of the fire department, the mayor, and EVERYONE ELSE WE/I FUCKING TALKED TO thought giving my cousin a ticket was the douchebaggiest move in the history of douchbaggery.
8) GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY TOWN, YOU FILTHY EGO-TRIPPING OVER-COMPENSATING CITY-SLICKING BASTARDS!

I'm a little angry. So is everyone else who actually grew up in a small town.

Funny things to come out of this:
1) They pulled my cousin out of the parade route. They asked him for the keys. He had to tell them that derby cars only have a kill switch. Then they asked him to put it in park. He asked them if they had a wood block to stick behind the tire.
2) They LET HIM FINISH THE PARADE AFTER SUSPENDING HIS LICENCE. And after he pulled away from the cops, HE SQUEALED HIS TIRES AGAIN AND EVERYBODY CHEERED!
3) Country people now hate city people even more.

I'm sorry. I know city people aren't all evil, ignorant jackasses. But, let's face the facts, we never had any problems when our cops were local boys/girls. Now we have out-of-towners coming in to patrol our traditions and our way of life, and they are fucking it up.

The cop-hate and city people-hate that spilled forth was intense, yo. During the derby the next day, someone was injured in the ring. The fire siren went off and the firefighters attended to the injured. (Firefighters are all local volunteers. Therefore, we like them, a lot. Jeff is in the fire department, so they were kind of angry on his behalf.) The cops (including the one who charged Jeff) eventually wandered over, and the fire chief blocked their way. (My cousin-in-law is in the fire department, we got the scoop from him.) When the cops asked why he wouldn't let them in, the fire chief had to explain that firefighters are better trained in first aid and CPR than cops, that the paramedics were already tending to the injured person, and also, what did the cops think they were going to do, charge the fellow that hit him?

I <3 my hometown.

Oh, Season Five Supernatural: You are so far from being the story I loved and couldn't stop watching back in seasons one/two/maybe three. Way to alienate once-loyal fans through blatant sexism, Sam!hate (it was possible to make a character turning darkside sympathetic, and you failed at that miserably), and weird breaking-the-fourth-wall meta. This is why I prefer cracktastic, heartwrenching British television programming now. Besides, I'm insulted by the True Blood-inspired title card: bitches, that show has everything you were too stubborn to include, including diverse, regularly-occurring characters that are African American, homosexual, unattractive, and/or female. And because of that, it is awesome. Season Four was like a bad relationship: you disappointed me, hit me over the head with stupidity and self-indulgence, and I kept crawling back on the vague hope that you would smarten up. Not this time, pal. You have three episodes to prove to me that you can do better than this (and that's including the severely disappointing season premiere). If nothing changes, I'm out. I don't care that it's been four years of investment, and wonder, and addiction. I'm through watching (unless there really is a surprise "Jo is back" episode, because that would be awesome, unless you butcher her character, which you probably will). No love, Supernatural, no love.

In other news, school has started, and then I got really sick today and missed my Tuesday evening class. The world is conspiring against me. I'll update about school once I've actually done something, but so far so good.

Of course I would dream about George Takei line-dancing . . . It's a weird place in my subconscious.

Anyway, off to the Farmers' Market today with my family, for the first time in at least two years.

I love my family. I mean, really, they are awesome.

Yesterday was my last day of work for the summer and, understandably, I wanted to celebrate. Unfortunately, all (most?) of my friends were busy and/or out of town, which was fine, albeit a little disappointing. But anyway. So Mom said that she would take me out, and Curtis didn't have plans so he agreed to come out.

Mom couldn't stay late, so we went to Shakies and had a late dinner and a few drinks. There was a band, and it was really nice to spend time together. Mom and I are so similar, in everything. It's a little frightening. Curtis wondered aloud what people must think when they see the three of us, particularly because we are so . . . Aryan-looking. I mean, blond, blue-eyed, tall(-ish), thin(-ish). And I said, "Curt, they think we are Nazis." Which reminded me that I always feel guilty during World War II lectures, like it's my fault that I'm an Aryan stereotype. Anyway.

So we had a nice meal with Mom, and then she dropped us off. The plan was that Curt and I would check out Doogies, and if it was quiet and boring, we would go somewhere else, but it was pouring rain outside, so once we were in Doogies, I said I didn't want to go anywhere else because it was too wet. It was somewhat empty when we got there, so we got a drink and sat by the window, and we chilled there for an hour, by which time it had picked up considerably. I sent Curtis across the street with my debit card to get more cash, because I didn't want to get wet, and at the bank he ran into a couple of his friends, who then came and joined us for a little while, which was when the drinking really started: a couple shots, some more drinks. They left for Trappers (yuck) and Curt and I stayed to hang out at Doogies, which was packed by now. We were both pretty tipsy by now. We found a table closer to the dance floor and hung out. Then Curt went up to the bar to get another drink, and when he didn't come back I followed him, and there he was chatting to some guy in a fedora. (The guy in the fedora is actually a regular at Doogies, whom I've seen a few times, but didn't know.) So I went over and joined them and we talked for a while. He bought us both a round of tequila bombs (apparently a Doogies staple?) and we hung out with him until after close. He may or may not have been flirting with me? I don't know. He was really nice though - said that he knew me, because we had talked last winter when I was really drunk, which is why I don't remember him. I think he has me confused with someone else, because I've never been that drunk at Doogies, and I've never ever been so drunk as to have memory loss, but whatever. It was a cool night.

Afterwards, we walked up to find a cab and ran into some of Curtis' army buddies, one of whom was really cute and was also out with his sister, which I think made Curtis feel a bit better about being out with me. And then we cabbed it home and I passed out big time, not because I was wasted (though admittedly kind of tipsy), but because I was so tired and exhausted. And when I woke up this morning, I felt happy in a way that I haven't in a long time, and that's awesome, and I'm going to Dad's where Corrine is throwing Steph and I a "back to school" party, and that's cool, and life is good, now that I'm done work and have realized again that family is more important than, well, anything.

And I was thinking that heaven would be my grandparents' swimming pool, my Dad's back porch, Doogies, and a theatre playing a constant loop of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (from Ottawa U), Cabaret (from Stratford), and Never Swim Alone (from Sears).

Huh, so it seems in my old age, my persistent anger/disappointment/betrayal/etc. has evaporated into sarcastic self-deprecation, coupled with a strong urge to seek out things which make me laugh.

It's still completely inappropriate for Narcissistic Megalomaniac to bemoan his ball and chain with me in the next room, however. How fortunate that us three have hearts and souls and friends and salvation, and I know that Narcissistic Megalomaniac will have to stand before the Lord and say, "I'm sorry I was a robot masquerading as a Christian man."

Although it's ten times better that you don't know, I'm a terrible, terrible person who should not be allowed around people. Or more specifically, him, because holy crap am I a terrible person. All because of the nu!Star Trek Kink Meme, which I found somewhat accidentally. It's bad because it's an insult to Trekkies everywhere that I have no desire to watch the old stuff despite how kickass and hot the new film was. But hey, I think I'm a serious Doctor Who fan, but I won't watch anything that wasn't made in the new millenium, and that's just the way it's going to be.

So here ( under this cut )

So, on the work front:

(TWELVE MORE WORKING DAYS LEFT AND I'M OUT OF THAT HELLHOLE!)

It's amazing how the office environment works. You would think that, because you are in the same building, on the same floor even, hell, even in the same department, that you would see the same people every day. This is not the case. In an office, somehow, you can see the same person fifteen times throughout the day, and then not see them for three weeks. This appears to be the case with the two gentlemen I previously mentioned: Aly and Mohindra. In fact, after updating about them, I didn't see either of them again until today. Then, bam.

Aly asked me out on a date. Well, he didn't say the word "date", but I'm 98% certain he means it to be one. Of course he wouldn't say date, since his exact words were, "Did you still want to go out sometime?" I had to wrestle it into a slot between the hours of nine and five, because I'm not really sure if I want it to be a date. This way, if we go out for lunch together, I can pretend it's a casual co-worker thing, unless for some reason it goes swimmingly and/or I grow a heart, a conscience, and a brain between now and then. I'm pretty determined to keep my flirting in check, because it seems that somehow, against my control, my flirting precursors a giant knife shoved into your back.

Then I turn the corner and, wham, there's Mohindra, barely able to stutter out two words to say hello, before scurrying off and glancing over his shoulder to see if I'm glancing back over my shoulder at him. And sure, I was, but it wasn't because I was attracted to you; I was just curious if I was right about you being attracted to me. And then I think, "Well, at least Aly can say more than three words to me." And also, "Thank God I only have two weeks left here. I need an archaeologist-boyfriend, stat."

Because Aly is an engineer and I'm worried, worried, worried, that he is going to be exactly like G. Or worse, that I'm going to treat him exactly like G. based on the sole criteria that he is, in fact, an engineer. Though it is refreshing to try the more conventional approach of knowing someone casually, eventually having one of you work up the courage to ask the other on a date, and actually go on the aformentioned date, rather than meeting someone (or meeting someone again) and suddenly looking around and realizing that you are, whether you wanted to be or not, in a relationship with that person. It's kind of a new thing for me. It's been a very long time since I was "asked out." I found out I was on a date with Oz two weeks after it happened. And G., well, I saw him one day and we were in a relationship the next.

Maybe it's a good step for me. I've been thinking a lot about who I am and why I can be so hard to get along with - certainly difficult to date and continue dating. I think a lot of people are confused by this outer layer of me being sweet, and kind, and flirty, and exceedingly normal. That's not to say that it's an act. Certainly not, because it's the person I really want to be. But I think people come to believe that this sweet, kind, flirty person is all there is to me, and then somehow or another they get a glimpse at what's underneath, and they can't handle it. Not that I'm some kind of hideous monster underneath. It's just that I'm strong. Ridiculously strong. And while I like being sweet, and kind, and flirty, the thing I'm most proud of is this ridiculously strong core inside of me that people either don't know about or forget that it's there.

Anyway. So Friday I have a lunch date. I'm not stupid: I'm going to behave, and pull out all the stops so that I behave. But wish me luck anyway. Here's to hoping that, by the time that hour is up, he won't want to see me ever again.

Curtis: "For my birthday, I'd like us to get matching tattoos."

Me: "Yeah, okay. I could probably handle that, with minimal crying."

Curtis: "I know what we should get, too. But you won't like it."

Me: "What?"

Curtis: "I'll get a grenade, and you get the pin, and that way people know not to separate us or else bad things will happen."

Me: "Yeah . . . no. Clever idea, way too violent."

Also, ( Torchwood Series 3 and Doctor Who 2009 Christmas Special spoilers )

So last night I went out with the gang to Molly's, where we had a fun, chill time enjoying some drinks and the band. And then I barhopped with Erin - to a ridiculous extent, because downtown was deserted and we finally ended up the Ranch and had ourselves a pretty decent time, I think. Tomorrow night is Sarah's 21st birthday, and I'm excited for that, and in the meantime I'm at my grandmother's, spending time with family.

But there's something that happened in the midst of all that. Something so uncalled for, inappropriate, and frustrating that it has spread like deadly tremors within my family, and at the centre, beaten and broken, is my brother. And I am angry.

Erin's kind parents dropped me off at 2a.m. last night. I entered the house, and Mom called me over to the phone. Curtis was on the phone, unbelievably upset. Just utterly heartbreakingly angry and sad and confused and hurt. Someone had called him, a male from an anonymous, restricted number, and told him that his girlfriend was cheating on him. Carly had gone to the bar, as Curtis knew, but this call said that she was going home with a guy she had met there. Carly, of course, had her cell phone off - something she told Curtis she was going to do in order to save her battery to be able to call him in the morning. So of course Curtis couldn't reach her to clarify, and being insecure and totally in love with her and a little tipsy from drinking with friends, Curtis completely and utterly overreacted.

We drove to pick him up, and I stayed on the phone with him the entire way, trying to get him to calm down. We picked him up, leaving his car, and drove him back home, trying to talk some sense into him along the way. But then Carly called, and as she was also upset and frustrated and hurt and confused, the conversation went badly. She was upset that he didn't trust her, that he would believe some random stranger over her. She said she didn't want to talk to him right then, and hung up. Upon ending his call with her, he discovered the strange, anonymous, restricted number had called again and Curtis absolutely lost it. He was livid. I've never been so scared for him. He went on and on about how much he loved Carly and how much he needed her and how he would never be okay if she left him. He went on and on about how angry he was at however was trying to tear them apart and how unfair the situation was.

Mom and I finally calmed him down and got him off to bed. I confiscated Curtis' phone, because it would only make the situation worst if he pestered her again that night.

But then Carly called back, while I had the phone. And I spoke with her for a half an hour, trying to explain the situation. Carly said that she was very hurt by the fact that he didn't trust her, this being only the explosion of a slow-burning fuse. He constantly makes her promise that she loves him, that she is being true to him, that she wants to be with him. She just escaped a controlling relationship and even though she loves my brother and thinks he is a wonderful person, she can't be with someone who doesn't trust her. I listened to her, defended my brother a little, then went to his room to let him talk to her, at her insistence.

Which, in retrospect, was a bad idea, given how tired and emotional the two of them were.

Carly told Curtis that someone had called her male friend at the bar, claiming to be Curtis, and threatening to kill her friend. She knew it wasn't Curtis, but she was upset, and that only compounded the situation. He stayed on the phone until five in the morning, and I stayed with him. It was exhausting, and so many levels of wrong.

No one should feel that strongly for another person. It's a recipe for disaster, and it's going to destroy Curtis. No wonder that, on the whole, I'm disgusted with the idea of relationships, of needing someone else. I don't see how it could ever be worth that insecurity, pain, and distrust. I understand Carly's position completely - I would never be with a guy who didn't trust me and worried constantly when we were apart. But I don't think Carly is making enough effort to understand Curtis' point of view, and she doesn't seem to realize that someone is trying to tear them apart, and she's letting it happen by blaming the entire situation on Curtis.

Finally, spent, we all turned in around five, and promptly got up at eight to retrieve Curtis' car, at which point he went to Carly's to fix the situation. For the most part, it seems to have gone . . . not terribly well, but not awful either. I'm at my father's now, so I can't be too sure. What I do know is that Carly sent me a message on Facebook thanking me for being so understanding last night, and saying that she did want to reconcile things with Curtis, somehow and eventually.

Of course, the question of the night was, "Who would do this?" Carly's ex-boyfriend was at the bar, and so Curtis speculated that it might have been him. (Carly got unduly angry because she had asked Curtis previously who had made the phone call, and he said he didn't know, and when he suggested her ex, Carly interpretted it as meaning that he knew all along, and then unjustly called him a liar.) However, today it was revealed that it wasn't her ex at all, but Curtis' ex-girlfriend, Sarah. Sarah texted him today saying that Carly was cheating on him with the male friend. Which, of course, is ridiculous, and vindictive, and just . . . I don't even know. This isn't supposed to happen in real life. This is a bad teen drama, with shitty casting. There's nothing right about this at all.

And if this is love . . . This need and obsession and nasty behaviour and hurt and helplessness and fighting, then I don't want any part of it. I had been thinking this week, "Yeah, maybe love would be nice," and now I know how much better off I am single. I think Curtis is wrong for feeling as strongly as he does. I think Carly is wrong for being too quick to raise up her defenses. And obviously Sarah is wrong for stirring shit up with an ex-boyfriend she hasn't seen in six months.

Love dismays, saddens, and embarrasses me.

And it also makes me feel a little bit left out. Curt told Carly a hundred times last night that he couldn't live without her, that she was the only thing that mattered and made his life worthwhile. (While obviously Curtis needs to cultivate other interests . . .) I sat there thinking, "Um, what about me? Have I not done everything you ever asked or needed or wanted me to? I've been there for you through everything, even now, and here I am sitting here while you tell your girlfriend that she is the only thing you are living for. Thanks a lot for that, brother."