I’m at the airport in Newark, blasting music on my MacBook and waiting for my flight to leave. It’s going to be after this one that leaves at six, at least I hope. The wi-fi in the concourse is $7 for a day’s use, and I’m only going to be here for about another hour. $7 for an hour of connectivity? I don’t think so.
Yeah, I’m cheap. Deal with it.
I’m writing this in Smultron, one of my favorite apps for OSX. It’s a stripped-down text editor that is actually quite feature-laden. I love text editors. Especially ones that display what line you are at. I’m writing line five.
Okay, I feel like I’ve been an asshole to Drew. I go back and forth between thinking he’s the ass and that I am. I mean, there was a reason for that fiasco that happened at Trash Film Orgy.
I have this feeling like he’s still in the closet in a lot of ways.
It’s a horrible thing to agree with Annie, but I am what she pretends to be, a person that enjoys it when all my friends comingle. Especially when it’s friends and my boyfriend. When you’re dating someone you’re not just dating them, you’re dating their friends too. Which is hard.
I dunno. I mean, I need to stop complaining to Brian that he never spends time with me.
After the last week, I am totally fucking spoiled.
And it’s all about Terry.
Ok.
Terry is um…totally fucking awesome. We have been texting each other near-endlessly (I need to check my SMS limit when I get back to connectivity), and I am so into him. But I’m in a relationship. And then, when I think about it, Drew and I aren’t good for each other. I get this standoffish feeling from him that I just can’t shake. I just keep thinking back to this one time when we were first talking about dating, where I asked him what he wanted from a relationship, and he couldn’t give me an answer.
I thought he would think about it for a while and then tell me, but he didn’t. I don’t want to interrogate the boy, I just want to know what’s going on in his lovely head.
About a week into the trip, I was complaining that he wasn’t calling me, and I wanted to call him, but then I was like “Wait…what the hell would we talk about? I thought that he was just shy, and he has become much less shy, but he never has much to talk about. And I don’t get why.
Okay, before the Internet, there were excuses for not having much to say. But come on, people. There’s Digg. There’s every newspaper published all over the world available online. Why would one have nothing to talk about? This is from me, the guy who uses nearly 3,000 minutes a month on his cell plan. Seriously. So I just don’t get it.
Oh thank the gods, the flight attendant just said that this was the right gate. Awesome.
There’s a Starbucks here, I should spend that $7 on delicious delicious chai (I did, after I finished the post). Today of all days I’m realizing that a computer without the Internet is pretty much useless these days. I even forgot to put some TV shows on the internal HD, so I’m stuck with just music and a few music videos. So basically my computer could be replaced by a typewriter with an iPod stapled on.
I guess it’s going to be about writing when I’m on the plane. Or maybe more about Tetris. Who knows. I don’t have one of those privacy screens, so I don’t think it’d be a great idea to write while on the plane. I did get a window seat though…eh, who knows. I’ll have six hours to plumb the depths of my boredom.
It was so depressing leaving my mom this morning. I was crying, she was crying, it was horrible. But flying is such an odd and amazing thing. You just have this piece of paper and a passport and you show it to everyone and they usher you into this esoteric world in the sky. I dunno. I guess it’s ’cause I haven’t flown for years that I’m so enamored with the whole process. Well, not enamored, but astonished.
Omigod, the day before I left my mom took me on a shopping spree at this FUCKING MASSIVE mall in Paramus. Basically, Paramus is where all the rich people in New Jersey live, and this mall was insane. Basically every store was Luis Vuitton, Guess, Lacoste, Express…it was insane. There were stores that you would look at and just know you couldn’t afford anything in them. It was crazy.
But my mom bought me this beautiful amazing Express jacket, this one I’d wanted for YEARS. I’m in love with it. Well, my wrists are starting to hurt, I should stop typing. Voice-Rec in public would be such a faux pas. :)
I guess Amanda P. says it best:
It’s been decades since my pit days
but i havent shaken it - i sit there like an idiot
still caught up in the old punk protocol
and dreaming that the teenagers will think that i’m a radicaland i still wait for the bus to come where high school got torn down
still expecting to find true love among the skateboarders hanging out
in back of the bank in my hometown
