I have this theory. The more God- or the universe, or fate, or the llama deities, or whoever you believe runs things- sticks us with bad luck, the more good luck we rack up for later. And vice versa. It's the rubber band effect- the more you pull back on it, the harder it's going to snap back.

I have to wonder if that's what's happening in my life right now. The past few weeks were, simply put, complete shit. Angry confrontations, broken heart, lengthy apology letters, confusion, and all that. I tried to control all of it, too. Figure everything out into small solvable problems, when the whole mess is really too complicated for anyone to ever figure out. That's what generally happens when you fall in love with someone who's in love with someone else who's in love with someone else. It all gets complicated.

But the past few days have been full of extraordinary good luck, hence my rubber band theory. It's probably not karma, seeing as how I'm really not that good of a person. I'm too sarcastic, cynical, and all around not very nice to deserve any kind of good luck. But that's all that's been hitting me for the past week. I'm kind of suspicious of it, actually.

It's hard t just sit back and accept good luck when you know it's all coming back to get you in a little while. At what point does the rubber band begin to get stretched too far back the other direction?

The Children Debate

It seems that, even though my mom has accepted the fact I don't want children, no one else will. So let's go over some of the reason I would make a lousy mother versus the reasons I would make a great mother and determine if I am fit to be a parent.

Why I'd be a bad mother:
1) I have no desire to have children. I would think that any decent parent would want children. I don't.
2) My goals and ambitions tend to eclipse my want of a normal life. I have so much I want to do. When am I supposed to find time to settle down and pop out kids?
3) I've taken care of my elderly grandmother for most of my teenage years. She's like a giant baby. I no longer wonder what it would like to care for someone else. And honestly, after taking care of her, I don't want to care for someone else.
4) I like being alone and peace and quiet too much. Children are noisy. Children are demanding and depend on you. I dumped my last boyfriend because he was too demanding. You can't dump kids.
...do I need more reasons, because I'm sure there are more, but I'm too sick to think of them.

Why I'd be a great mother:
1) I don't take shit. Those kids would be well behaved because I wouldn't accept any less.
2) I have great genes. I'm smart. I'm ok looking. I'm not deformed, don't have any genetic diseases--that I know of. Who wouldn't want my genes?
3) I inspire greatness. I would push them to be intelligent and good people and they, in turn, would turn out like me: someone who wants to cure cancer and help people. Wouldn't that be great to have someone just like you out there?--provided you're a decent person.
Well, I can't think of any more reasons. I guess the nays have it. Oh well.

Friday? Finally? My braiiiiin!

It's finally the end of the week... just two more classes, and then I can relax. Until I decide to tackle that ever growing mountain of homework staring beadily at me from the corner of my desk.

Weekends are usually pretty informal for me. One or another of my friends will come up with last minute plans, to which I am sometimes invited. Usually there's a movie night. Homework is put off until Sunday afternoon, where you can find all of us camped out on one of the floors of the library, each of us hunched over our respective homework. But we never get it done as fast as we should, since there's usually something going on to distract us. The same pattern every weekend, pretty much.

I'm just glad to have this week done with finally. It was quite a doozy.

Harsh Realities

I'm staring out the window. I have been for a while now. I dimly remember my roommate going to bed a little while ago. Outside, there are no stars showing, only the moon and a vast, dark expanse. I'm beginning to get a little tired, but I don't want to go to bed. I don't even really want to move- I just want to sit here at my computer, staring out the window and typing a few sentences whenever they cross my mind.

There's so much going on in my life, but inside I feel empty. I should feel full. There are so many reasons for me to feel happy and full. But that one reason for me to feel heartbreakingly sad and empty seems to be outweighing all those good reasons. It seems pointless to go to sleep when all I have to look forward to tomorrow is another day of dancing around the subject, avoiding him, and feeling this heartbreak. I can't go back, and it doesn't seem like I can go forward, so where else is there to go? Down into depression? This seems to be my favored direction at the moment. The only direction, at the moment.

I suppose there's always piracy. Now that I think about it, piracy really does sound better and better. I'm sure whelps such as HE are put to death quite quickly on the high seas. It's sounding better and better the more I think about it... perhaps I'll quit college tomorrow and take up a life of pillaging and plundering. Adventure, treasure, and swashbuckling. It's really quite appealing.

Probably less stressful, too. I'm sure pirates don't have to spend every waking moment writing papers and translating things from dead languages. I wonder, does one have to have a specific level of education to take up piracy? I'm sure I'd meet the requirements. Surely they don't have terribly high SAT standards. I might fall a little below average in the experience department, but I'm sure I could kill enough brooding Darcies in the first week of my employment as a pirate to make up for THAT.

Not that brooding Darcies even get off their high horse long enough to set sail on a ship. That's too common and low for them. Plus, it's easier to brood from inside a dorm room. Seemingly, much much easier....

Also, I'd have those student loans paid off like that. I'd be able to save up plenty of money for my England trip in May with Jane (squee!!), and I'd be able to save up money for the dig in June. I wouldn't get any attitude from crappy friends who aren't there for you when you need them. Pirates always have their fellow pirate's backs, I'm sure. Unless they're running to save theirs.

Plus, I bet piracy has a great dental plan.

Conversations of Randomness

I was walking to the Pacific Asian market with my two favorite housemates, Z and L, yesterday evening. About half way there we passed these two guys putting appliances in the back of a truck. One was in his fourties, the other in his late twenties it seemed. I looked, noticed, and didn't pay much heed. I was far too excited to be going to the market--odd as it may seem.

On the way back, hands leaden with food for dinner, we pass the same two men again.

"Nice hat," the younger, more attractive of the two says, smiling. I had to take notice that time. He was mighty attractive.

"Nice tats," I replied with a like smile, referring to the tattoos running up his strong, tan arms.

............And then I tripped. So much for that....

Dream on dream....

In typically Elizabeth fashion, I've been listening to this one song for hours on end. Also in typical Elizabeth fashion, I heard it in one of the various versions of Pride and Prejudice that I've watched. I usually enjoy watching them because it's such a great romance story. It gives the plain janes like me something to dream about.

But there comes a certain point where you have to realize that that's all it is- a dream. I hate that reality, and I fight tooth and nail against it. Why is it so unreasonable to believe that there's a perfect Darcy out there for me? Why does it have to be so hard to find said Darcy?

But during my weekend epiphany, I have realized that there isn't necessarily a Darcy out there for me. (And after all the events of the past year, I'm not so sure he's the best type of man out there for me.) Perhaps there is someone else, not necessarily as perfect as Darcy, but perfect for me. So I've given up on dating and men for now. When the time is right, the right man will find me.

Playing the field

It's days such as these I wonder why the hell my heart has determined that I should fall for one man. Everywhere I go there are men walking down the street, in my classes, on campus--they're everywhere and they're all so...well, yes, hot, but I was thinking of possible. There's the blonde surfer with the really tight pants and great butt. And of course there's the tall Asian with the messy auburn hair. Did I mention the GSI that looks like Mr. Darcy? Or how about the rugged looking lit geek in Shakespeare?

Oh man, I think I'm addicted to men.

Well I have been quietly standing in the shade
All of my days
Watch the sky breaking on the promise that we made
All of this rain
And I’ve been trying to find
What’s been in my mind
As the days keep turning into night

Now I see clearly
It’s you I’m looking for
All of my days
Soon I’ll smile
I know I’ll feel this loneliness no more
All of my days

- "All of My Days" by Alexi Murdoch

I've been listening to this song on repeat for a while. Outside, the sky threatens me with rain, but has yet to deliver. Instead, it's just gloomy. I feel uncreative and pent up- but the weird thing is that there isn't any reason to feel this way. I'm happy for once; I've let go of my first love (who was, coincidentally, my first heartbreak), found new ways to occupy my time, and am inching ever so closely to self-actualization (to quote Jane).

Mostly, I just wish it would rain. As much as I feel like a new, better person, there's still the taint of last week and the memories of what I said and what he said hanging around here. Maybe if it rained, these would all wash clean. How do you get over your first love? Everyone makes it sound so easy. Everyone tells me to move on or to focus on his bad points and what made me angry about him.

But the thing is, that doesn't work. Everything that made me angry at him made me love him. Angry because he just couldn't see all the stupid things he did, the stupid things that made me fall for him. Angry because those weird little quirks would never be mine to observe, really. Angry because he just didn't see me. So how can I focus on his bad points when I never viewed them as bad?

I'm trying to consider myself "over him". But when he passes my room, or smiles in class, or tells a joke, it just tugs on my heart and I find myself wishing once more. Wishing he'd change his mind, wishing he'd be more open with me, wishing there wasn't so much complication. He's so damn cryptic about everything that I can't ever be sure how he really feels. It doesn't seem like I could have been so deceived in what I felt about him and what I thought there was between us. There's so much that feels unresolved, so much in the air, in the tension, in the looks, that I feel like I'm going to go crazy.

How do I stop thinking of him that way? Everything just feels so right around him, despite all our fights and problems. I can't imagine feeling this way about anyone else. But he's written the whole thing off, so I'm supposed to as well. It's not as easy for me, however. I'm just wishing for a lot of things, I guess.

Resolve, meet Personality. Personality, meet resolve.

It's one of those days. Not the bad days or even a great day--though it has been pretty great. Today is one of the days I am more sure of myself. Now that the three day weekend has faded into oblivion--finally....I couldn't wait to get rid of it--and I find myself preoccupied with things other than just atypical schoolwork, I can be a little more introspective without letting my wild imagination take hold.

Important things to be noted about this recent introspection:
1) I do not need anyone in my life--at least not right now and, most likely, not anytime soon.
2) I enjoy quietude. It's much funner to watch people from afar in their natural habitats.
3) I have to be doing something. If I'm not I fall into this deeply depressive melancholy...and it's not pretty, nor is it becoming. I just need a purpose, even if it's only short term.
4) I like being happy--esp. when I'm happy with myself. I'm such a better person when I'm happy and I see possibilities instead of missed chances.
5) And this is a big one--all my fantasies about "him" are exactly that: fantasies. They'll probably never happen. Who even knows if the person I'm fantasizing about even exists anymore. Which of course also brings me back to 1) I do not need anyone in my life.

Ah the joys of self-actualization. I shall now skip around campus singing showtunes.......or not. No one really wants to see me skip.

More of the Bennett sister's random thoughts on love

Being in control of things is always nice. At least, for me. This doesn't hold true for other people- there are some who enjoy being out of control and don't mind when things aren't in their own control. As for me, however, I like being in my little comfort zone. It's like a box marked around me in chalk, and when things get outside of that box, I do not like it.

Take the weather today, for instance. It was freezing cold in the morning, and later it was blisteringly hot. I don't mind either extreme; I live somewhere where I should be pretty used to both by now. But I'd rather be inside my dorm room, where I can control whether I'm hot or cold. If I'm in a situation where I'm not able to make it hot or cold, I freak. Quite irrational, but hey, that's me.

Love is kind of the same way for me. It's not something I like to be in, because it's a situation in which I have absolutely no control. As with the weather, I find myself in one of two extremes: either too hot or too cold. Neither are pleasant situations for me to be in.

My love life is divided into those two categories. The guys I fall in love with (at present count, this is only two, but still) never love me back, or if they do, they aren't very sure about it: I feel too much. The other extreme is just as bad- all the wrong guys fall in love with me and I don't feel the same way: I feel too little. Too hot, too cold. No control.

I'd much rather have love be a clean-cut, neatly labeled situation. Kind of like a chemistry equation (there you go, Jane). This person plus this person equals love. Cue the golden sunshine halos and white doves. Jane repeatedly explained to me patiently that this doesn't happen in real life. In response to which I throw a tantrum.

So, with the absence of the halos and white doves, how do you know when you've met The One? Because I thought I did, twice. And both times, I was dead wrong. At this point, I'm viewing every guy I meet as a prospective One. I somehow doubt this is the right approach. So what is, then?

Life needs to be more like chemistry, I think.

At what point does unrequited love become obsession?

After four years in a semi-conscious state of agony, it comes time in my painful reprieve to ask if my unrequited love has turned into something more corporeal. If not, how long before these feelings do turn into an ugly obsession. First, as in any real case study, we must define these seemingly simplistic terms according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary.

Obsession (noun): a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling.

Love (noun): (1) strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties (2) attraction based on sexual desire; affection and tenderness felt by lovers (3) affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests.

Obsession, itself, is quite easily defined, but Love, the one Universal and encompassing emotion, it seems has no clear definition. Supposedly, Love is different for everyone. But if love is so different, how can one know that the feeling is love, esp. in the case of Unrequited Love?

I suppose when it comes down to it, the line between obsession and unrequited love is very thin and is dependent upon ones views of such. Would I say that, in my case, my experience has moved beyond the realm of love and into obsession? At this point, luckily no. But unless I do something to change my feelings or avert my destined tragedy, I'm going to become Glen Close in Fatal Attraction. As it were, I'd prefer to be a Bridget Jones.

Damn ice cream...

What do you do when you really need ice cream, but you know that if you indulge in even the tiniest bit more, you'll pass out? This is my dilemma. Especially since I have found a stash of Phish Food. But luckily, my roommate has a little more common sense than I, and has taken to verbally reprimanding me every time I reach for it.

Love is too much of a mess for me. Boy meets girl, girl likes boy, boy confuses girl, girl confesses feelings for boy, boy crushes girl. Not to mention the events of the past few days: boy asks girl for advice concerning another girl, girl gets frustrated with boy, boy gets frustrated with girl, girl yells at boy, boy asks girl to stay away from him for a while.

Yeah, seriously. As if things weren't already bad enough that he doesn't love me back, or that I have to deal with him on an everyday basis, he has now requested that I just stay away from him. But the clincher is that in his mind, he's doing the "noble thing." He seems to think that it's my choice to be upset by him, so I should just stay away from him. I wish I could! I want yell at him. How about HE stays away from ME? I mean, it was HIS choice to break my heart, why should I have to do what he wants?

Maybe it's for the best. Maybe this is the only way either of us can find any peace. Right now my brain just hurts too much to think or find the right answer.

Falling Behind

Unlike Jane, I do not have a three day weekend. Also unlike Jane, I would have loved having a three day weekend. Instead, all that faces me is another day of classes, another day of having my heart tugged around on a string by the most disagreeable guy I've ever met, and another day of trying to keep on top of everything while still maintaining my sanity.

It takes a surprising amount of energy to maintain this charade of being okay around him. I've found this out the hard way over the past few days. How are you supposed to react when you tell someone you love them and they ask your advice about the girl they love? Especially when they can't take the hint and leave you alone. So I've thrown myself into schoolwork.

Which, ironically, means I have a lot more free time. Free time that I have nothing to do with but sit and think about him. I need to find a hobby. Perhaps knitting, or composing poetry. But I can't really be trusted with sharp objects, and my rhyming is slightly sub-par. It seems that hobbies usually require skill of some kind.

But boredom is a very, very bad thing... Boredom makes me do crazy things. Things I really shouldn't do. Things I know I'll regret. Like the letter I just sent. Boredom, in fact, is the reason I'm in this whole crazy mess in the first place. So it is a very good thing that I don't have a three day weekend.

I wonder how hard it is to learn how to knit.

Damn You, Three Day Weekend

Oh hell of hells. I'm not particularly fond of idle time. So imagine my dismay to find that when the summer gloom seems to be leaving my midsts that I am thrown into a three day weekend. It should be aforementioned that I am not a work-a-holic, I am not even a school-a-holic--though some may argue against those truths. I simply despise boredom, for with boredom is attached such devils as idleness, sloth, and inevitably mischief. Is that why I find myself here? Strikingly no. I'm not much for mischief. At least not currently. I'm sure I could conjure up my fair share when the time is right. I am here for the only cure for said boredom: I am here to find purpose. Where else is there to find purpose except the ubiquitous presence of the internet?

Ahh, Point Isabel. I won't lie, the first time I actually visited this wonderful bay area oasis was last night. It was a cool evening, the waves were rather rough against the shoreline, but no one seemed to mind--dogs and humans alike. Despite the industry that has spouted up around it, Point Isabel still retains her integrity. She stands against the development knocking on her doorstep. For the first time since I can remember, I didn't feel a need to rush my walk. I was simply contented with a slower pace, all wants and needs leaving my mind to make way for a more idyllic fantasy. Next time I must take a dog. I wonder if you can rent dogs....