After those pretty things you say and the love we made today.

Sometimes I wonder why I'm not more honest in the moment, instead hiding behind this sense of propriety and saving people's feelings when in reality I have no obligation to coddle them or NOT be honest.

In this case, I'm talking about the guy who's renovating an apartment I looked at yesterday. I didn't really have many intentions in renting the place prior to seeing it, unless it happened to be 1200 sq. feet with all new floors and walls and fixtures. Okay, maybe that's exaggerating. But I REALLY didn't have any intention of considering the place after stepping inside. And I could have very easily been honest with him about the fact, perhaps even helping him out in the process.

"Um, are you really just going to paint over the cracks in the tub and holes in the wall and crooked shelves in the pantry and closets? Do you really think it's fair to charge $750 a month when the bathroom barely has enough room to contain a sink, a toilet and a broken tub, and the kitchen has one small counter and one cabinet? Why is there only one electrical outlet? This kitchen tile is beyond horrendous with the exception of the paper on the shelves in the pantry."

But instead I made pleasant conversation about when he would be done and thanked him for his time then said I'd be in touch which basically isn't a lie since the end of that sentence is implied to read "if I want the place" which I don't and especially since I didn't really look at him when I said it. They weren't so sure about the pets thing, which I didn't push since I didn't care, though as we were leaving he said "are you definitely keeping your dog?"

Um, yeah. I'd rather live in a cardboard box for free with my dog than accrue more debt by overpaying for your crappy apartment.

( dreamsigns and morning rituals )

Terence, This Is Stupid Stuff

As an emotional junkie in recovery, I'm struggling a little this afternoon with not trying to take on too much of someone else's life right now and future-tripping. I'm doing a less than adequate job at it, but it could be worse I suppose. I think it helps that I have my own personal bits to future-trip on, that are only tangentially related.

I'm planning on writing my grad school admissions essay on the phenomenon of livejournal and how it's influenced me as a writer. This is either suicide or brilliance. I'm hoping for the latter.

My brain hurts. I can feel the muscles on my head relaxing in this strange way, pushing down towards my forehead and making my eyes droopy. I want to sleep and sleep and sleep and it's not just avoidance sleep that I sometimes get -- I think I'm still a bit deprived from my busy weekend and late nights and lack of napping. Of course, it's not always for lack of trying. I have this fear that I've lost my ability to nap because when I lie down, my body will only relax up to a point. I drift near sleep, but never quite teeter over the edge. Sometimes this is relaxing and rejuvenating in a different way. A "lie-down", if you will. Other times it's infuriating and frustrating.

Though I seem to have no problem falling asleep on the train on the way home. Maybe I'll just ride the brown line back and forth a couple times before going home. I'm like a baby who needs to ride in the minivan at bedtime.

Ooooh, Damon called!