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My brain is toast. A few days in NYC and a houseguest (as wonderful as she is) have blown my circuits.
I need to stare at the wall for a while. Stupidly, I watched Felicity last night. The 3rd time ever. What an annoying show. But I am *so* not over my breakup, because I kept seeing parallels between my defunct relationship and the one between Felicity and Scott Speedman's character. I am such a tard.
I am also a tard because I told him I would like to see him this week. Like I don't still want to poke pencils in his eyes and stomp on his foot. I am still so angry.
I never officially "discovered" feminism, but sometimes the conventional roles I find myself in make me rage like a warrior. I don't want to be a woman scorned, a martyr, a vixen, or a victim. I hate relationships that put me in any of those roles.
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6.18.2002
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