For saving me for all they've taken/Let my armor fall again

I mailed some stuff out today, including that godforsaken watch and some books, none of which was mine. Well, ok, technically the watch was a permanent loan and never intended for return, but I figure the easiest way for me to get rid of it without feeling guilty is to send it back to the owner. Though to be honest, why I should feel guilty about trashing it I don't know, since I no longer want friends like him.
Thellie's having a hard time of it, so I ordered The Thirteenth Tale and had it sent off to her. Hopefully she'll get it soon. It's a phenomenal book, I'm actually a little ticked that she hasn't read the damn thing yet. But she will soon.
I went back to work today. It was uneventful, except for the nearly-throwing up part. Nice to know my stomach isn't back to its usual imperturbable self yet. Can a stomach have selfhood? I suppose some people would think so.
On a final, somewhat random note, I love the new Disturbed album.

Did you hear the news today?/I'm not coming home, no

I go back to work tomorrow. It's been a long 4 (well, ok, 3 and 1/2) days. Thank God for M. and C. and T., because they made the length seem a little bit shorter. I'm not looking forward to going back to work, either, mind you; but at least there'll be something to do.
My two brothers each have two friends coming this week: 3 arrive on Tuesday and one on Thursday, and they all think I'm a freak. Not in a good way, either. So I have to deal with that, too.
I drove my dad up to the airport today, since he's got meetings in Guatemala until Thursday. He was going to take the car and just park it there, but when my mom and I pointed out that that would necesitate one of us not going to work for the whole week due to lack of transportation, he realised his idea wasn't exactly a brillant one, and so changed his mind. Hence the driving. It was nice to get out of the house and just drive relatively aimlessly for 3 hours (well, technically 6, since it was a round trip). I thought about stopping in at the Mall o' A. for an hour or two, but then I remembered I didn't have mom's cell phone to tell her I'd be home late, and she tends to panic if I'm more than 10 minutes late. It would have been fun, though. I haven't been there since I was a wee lass of 10. Maybe next time, or maybe not. We'll see.
It's about 90 degrees right now, and since I don't have airconditioning, I feel like I'm melting into the ground, which is gross.

Oh, and I haven't cried yet today.

Thinking but not acting/that they're not to blame

So apparently people need a how-to guide in order to talk to me, which I find both offensive and funny. I'm not hard to talk to, people. I go Librarian-poo for other reasons--namely, fear. And panic. But mostly fear. If you want to talk to me, just follow these 3 easy steps:
1. Open mouth
2. Speak words
3. Repeat or shut up
See? it's really not that hard. I'd recommend you try it sometime. You'll find I can be quite amusing, rather cynical, and a sometimes intelligent conversationalist.

On a different note, I've been crying off and on for the past several days. Since Wednesday night, to be specific, so I suppose that qualifies as several. I didn't think it would hurt this much. I guess I cared/care more than I thought. But if just friendship is what you want, then I'll be more than happy to take that. I just don't want you out of my life. I was stupid enough before, out of jealousy and anger that you left (I was vain enough to read it as leaving me). I don't want to do that again, go through that again. Take your month, or year, or as long as you need. But...come back. Please.

God, I'm such a girl. What's wrong with me? Well, as C. told me, the thing about being a girl is that we get to act like it sometimes, and I suppose that's true. Well then, here's hoping I don't do it too often. It makes me feel vulnerable and weak, and we all know how much I enjoy that.

I will overcome/their violence, your silence/although I'm coming undone

So gas is down to $3.67 a gallon, which is good. My meds aren't working, which is bad. But then, since when have my meds worked? Answer: never. So that really isn't a change worth mentioning.
Sorry it's been so long, but I kind of crashed and burned. Turns out I'm bipolar (explains a whole hell of a lot, doesn't it?), and went into a manic phase for a couple of months and then went downhill to the point where, in June, I had to be hospitalised for 10 days. Fun, fun. Didn't help a whole lot, but at least now I know what day it is, and that's an improvement. Right? Isn't it?
I'm kind of disappointed in A. He told me various things a couple weeks ago, and they hurt. A lot. And now I'm just angry. Nothing quite like someone telling you that you can't ever be friends with them again, but they could be put upon to be friendly towards you if you really wanted and if they worked hard at it. No explanation was given, no reasons stated. Just, "I can't be friends with you." Which sucks.
Ok, ok, I realise I do this to people too, but I'm getting better at not doing it. I'm in therapy to prevent it. I care enough about it to want to try to fix it, and I'm willing to at least TRY to be friends with people, with some notable (read: abusive, manipulative bastards) exceptions.
On a slightly brighter note, the Black Symphony is coming to DVD in September, which is now technically next month. OMG, when I found out I almost squealed like a fangirl (no offense, Bekah). Oh, right. You probably don't know what the Black Symphony is. See, the greatest band in the world (IMHO), Within Temptation, did this concert in the Netherlands backed up by an orchestra and a classical choir. I would have given a kidney, part of my liver, and both legs to have been there, but since the DVD is being released I at least get to keep my body parts. Plus, bond is releasing a new CD, as is Brave St. Saturn.
AND, some of my favorite authors (ok, most of them) have books coming out in the next 2 months: Robin McKinley, Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, Elizabeth Peters, George RR Martin, and Kathy Reichs. Gah, I'm so excited.

But now I know, while beauty lives/So long will live my power to grieve

So it's been a long time, but in my defense, my computer died. Plus my computer died. I threw my back out somehow, the "somehow" being the most important part of that statement, since I have no flaming idea why I woke up one morning unable to move due to back Pain. Yes, the capitalisation is intentional. This is major Pain, and therefore entitled to some small degree of honour. The back is still iffy (maybe hurray for physical therapy, maybe not--I'll let you know in 6 weeks).

Other than that, nothing much has changed. Well, except my meds. I'm still taking shovelfuls of pills, don't get me wrong, but the pills themselves have changed. Which is nice, I suppose, since they ("they" being the doctor(s) who prescribed the pills, not the pills themselves) are being consumed with the hope of keeping me alive. Thus far, success, although to be completely honest, the "success" has been marginal at best. So on to the one topic guaranteed to make me feel better: Books.

I'm (hopefully) going to Narnes and Boble tomorrow to blow my recently and (rather sadly, one would think) not ill-gained fortune in N&B gift cards. I prefer it this way, since I firmly believe book shopping should be a full sensory experience. Shopping online seems to carry with it a distinct lack of sensory input, and it's nowhere near as fulfilling. God, I'm rather obsessive, aren't I? Book shopping as fulfilling. But then again, this is me I'm talking about.

Oh, and I kinda sorta got a boyfriend. More on that later, if I'm nice.