What's up with today...
I was feeling terrible last night at work, overtired and generally worn out, my body aching as if I'd spent the entirety of yesterday afternoon wrestling mongolian snake charmers in the desert before being deported back to the Regency in the back of a cramped chinese rikshaw pulled by an undead camel. (Suffice to say, I felt awful)
But despite the strange, unprecendented feeling of malaise, at about 2:30 in the morning I went a grabbed myself a smoke, squared my shoulders, and lept at the accounting like an angry jungle cat. And within only half an hour I was feeling entirely better, in fact one could say I was cheerful.
Then the morning got all the nicer. Depsite my ill feelings having made me late to start the audit, I was actually done relatively early, not early enough to finish the couple nagging things I've been neglecting at the office, but early enough to get everything -else- done in time. And while putting the last couple nails in the front end's coffin for the morning, so that it won't try to crawl out of the grave, I was delighted to have the company of a sweet jonesybunny on MSN for some quiet snuggles and other innocent, happy little pleasantries.
Breakfast was terrible... It usually is at the Regency though. I'm still not sure how these people can fuck up a Hollendaise sauce in so spectacular a manner and then still serve it, the thought of what sort of stupidity is droning around in the back of their heads makes me shiver the same sort of IQ draining shivers that I get when I watch the banana phone flash animation... I've seen the horror only once, and even then it makes me wonder how Cthulu managed to get the tentacle prints off of that one before it hit the net... its so stupid it borders on evil incarnate.
That aside.
I get home this morning to Kendra picking up the very last of her stuff from over here, and had to endure a couple of painful parting shots that I deliberately chose not to bring an answer to. Things fell apart, things sometimes do that with relationships, but I don't think she's ever going to understand that my deliberate choice not to associate with her isn't an 'attack' on her, its not me villifying her, its that things are always going to be painful on some level, and she's determined to pry open the new box that I've been pouring my life into in a way that would make Moses himself proud. I can't help but feel cruel, deliberately pushing her back to keep her at arm's length the way one would with a puppy with dirty paws... You can't help but feel for it, all the puppy is thinking is "Play! Be my friend! I love you!" but if you want your pants clean, well... (And yes, the pants and the dirty paws are a metaphor)
Utterly exhausted and drained from slight brushes over old emotional scars. I fell asleep laying right where I was in bed, and woke up at 1:30, although this is about 1/3 of my normal alotment of sleep, I badly felt like I wanted to get up and stay up, knowing that laundry was going to chop an hour or two out of my nightly time to enjoy myself and that tonight is the last night of the current work week. So I can just throw caffeine at my problems, attack the accounting like Inigo Montoya, and then sloth around work for a couple hours.
That said. I just went to the store to get some laundry money. And because I was overdrawing a debit purchase to do it, I needed to actually make a purchase of some sort to legitimize my "Please hand me some money, I don't want to go find an ATM that isn't going to charge me three fucking dollars in service fees to withdraw $20."
I'm in a strange sort of mood today, but I hadn't understood how strange until I started to shop.
I asked myself what I wanted to bring home with me, and the answer was "Something healthy!"
Somewhere I'm certain there is a dietitian screaming in triumph and pouding their hands on their desk, because my typical diet is an atrocity bordering on intenstinal holocaust, vegatables are queer things, I really despite the taste of most raw veggies other than a few very select things. I adore salad, I love cucumbers, and I can stand tomatoes and mushrooms if they're the right type or prepared properly. But the warehouse store's bagged salad mix makes the McDonalds chicken nuggets look appealing, and when I looked at the cucumbers the only thing that went through my mind was "Mmm, long english" (Your mind may now enter the gutter, we start serving drinks at eleven, last call is at dawn folks). So I bought some charming looking apples, and they had mangos on for a pretty reasonable sale. There's something peculiar about the triumph that comes with finding them on 3 for $2.34 and finding such a rediculous disparity in the size of the various specimen's that picking three carefully feels like robbery.
Having procured the fruit that the trapped vegan soul deep inside me was weeping for, my carnivore slapped her slender ass, pushed her aside and demanded meat. Meat was procured, and I wandered back over to the bakery side of the store to snatch up some buns, after all, what goes better with high quality beef hotdogs than a giant sac load of bread products.
But when I rounded the corner towards the baked goods, I found myself faced with a sudden peculiar flash of desire.
There was a middle aged chinese lady. (If there is one thing that working at the Regency has taught me, its how to differentiate between the various oriental decents. I'm getting pretty close to being able to discern whether someone is Japanese, Chinese, or Korean with only the slightest glance, at least for women). And I wanted to kiss her...
I wanted to set my basket down quietly, close the ten feet between her and I and gently lay my hands on her shoulders, pull her very gently close into my arms and kiss her softly. One of those tender anime kisses, the kind where the entire world suddenly goes very silent except for the soft pitter of the rain, where those soft doe eyes sparkle timidly and slender fingers curl against the front of the man's shirt. I wanted to make her world stop, for a moment.
And to understand the gravity of this sudden, peculiar urge to kiss a stranger, you have to understand a few very key things about me. One of the foremost is that I'm very submissive romantically, I'm timid to a curious extreme that makes me shuffle my feet and glance timidly away at the very thought of someone having amorous intentions towards me. And I hate kisses... The crowd can gasp all it likes, but I have never liked being kissed nor felt the desire to kiss anyone, something about the entire concept bothers me, it just doesn't evoke a pleasant feeling inside me, the idea of pressing my lips to someone else's while I hold them close. I'd just as soon love to just wrap my arms around someone and hold them close against me, my cheek against their shoulder and jawline brushing the side of their neck, savoring the quiet softness of their body held against my own, or to bite at their neckline softly, to hear the soft little gasp, to feel those slender shoulders tense and their knees suddenly turn to molten sugar. In another life, I'm certain I was a zombie... there's just something that feels -good- about the soft, pliant feel of someone's flesh between my jaws, about the way they respond, about the resiliant spring of their warm skin under my teeth and the way their jaw drops open and breath stalls sharply at a slow, soft flick of my tongue... But kissing... kissing's never intrested me. Its peculiar, I know.
I shrugged off the sudden impulse the same way one shrugs off a chill that's run up the length of their spine, blinking quietly a moment and peering into the air quizically, before moving onwards to collect my bag of buns and grab a couple more purchases on my way out...
I've never felt something like that, something so -different-, its haunting in a way, to suddenly -want- something you've never wanted before, in a cat walking across your grave sorta manner.
If I can find something interesting to write about, there will probably be another edition of memories tonight.