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I'm in kind of a funny emotional place right now. On the one hand, I'm super-excited about going to the Belle and Sebastian show tonight as they are sure to be spectacular, but on the other hand, I am very, very depressed about what happened on Buffy last night. I know, I know. It's downright pathetic when you can get clinically depressed by a television show. I know this. And yet I am. All I ever wanted was for Willow and Tara to have happy lesbian love, but no. Joss won't let anyone be happy. So I knew, as soon as Tara said that she wanted to get back together with Will that someone was going to die. And then they had one day of super-happiness, and then she gets shot in the boob. Stupid Joss. And now Buffy's been nearly raped by Spike, so he's all mad again and going to God knows where (well, actually, I read the spoilers so I know he's going to Africa), and Xander's never going to forgive Buffy or Anya (at least not until the finale), and Anya's a sucky vengeance demon who won't even let her victims finish a sentence. And I'm upset about all this. I want them all to live happily ever after, and yet if all this wasn't happening, I would probably find the show boring. Well, there's only three more episodes this season, and there's supposed to be some surp[rise at the end, and next season's the last. I can wait in agony until then. Sure I can.
Bet you all love my little Buffy rants, don'tcha?
I'm going down to the law library now to print off file closing sheets. I may not return. I hope I do, though, because spending all day in the cold, clammy library isn't my idea of fun.
4:35 I have returned. It took me four hours of library silence, but I got all the file closing sheets done. There were maybe 150 of them. I am very proud.
I am now waiting for 5:00, when Chel and Ni are supposed to call me and I will go down to street level to meet them. That is, so long as Chel got my message last night or my email from this morning confirming our meeting time, that she found her ticket, and that Ni didn't forget about the show altogether. Yes, I am a little worried that this will not turn as easy as I hope it will. Then again, I am insanely paranoid.
Example: last night, I had a dream in which I was going to have surgery on my left knee. I have no idea why, as my knee is in perfect shape (it's my ankles that keep trying to kill me), but that's what was going on in the dream. I was in hospital, wearing one of those cute little gowns, except mine fit me properly, closing in the back, and I was wearing jeans and a bra underneath it. Also, the gown had little light brown flowers on it iunstead of being plain blue. I arrived in the morning with my mum and dad, and we got to have our own little sitting room, which was also brown with dark brown chairs and a small bed for me. So I guess it wasn't really a sitting room, just a large room. Anyway, we were there all day, and they kept pushing the surgery back to a later time so that by midnight they still hadn't done it and were trying to find a time to do it the next day. I kept objecting to this, saying that I had a concert to go to (apparently, this fact does not escape my subconscious but basic facts about my body do), so they just rescheduled it for the next week. The thing was, the dream was structured sort of like a sitcom, with me going from my parents who were boeing really annoying in the sitting area, to Lara who kept bringing me flowers that I was allergic to (though I am not, in fact, allergic to flowers), to Tad bringing me Chinese food (even though I don't particularly like Chinese food, except spring rolls -- which, funnily enough, is what he brought me -- how did he know that?). Then there was a little intermission type thing where I was, all of a sudden, at my house in Kingston, making pancakes with Tiff. Anyway, to get back to what I was saying, the first thing I did when I woke up this morning was check my knee to make sure it wasn't scarred from the surgery that never happened. It wasn't, but in the shower, it started to hurt. This could have been psychosomatic, or it could have been because I slammed it into the faucet for the bath. Which itself could have been a way for my subconscious of making my fears a reality, and therefore psychosomatic in a very roundabout way.
Oo! Oo! Ni just called! Oh, I'm so excited! Gotta go brush my teeth. Okay, leaving now!
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