Ophelia's LiveJournal

Subject:	For Matt and ONLY Matt...
Time:	5:32 pm.
Mood:	amused.
Music:	Guns and Roses - Sweet Child of Mine.

To keep the hunt going...

It's the first day of spring and guess who was born on this date in 1961? He was a professional drummer who's stage name consisted of a salty beef snack and the title of our 2000 marching band show. Go to www.uselessknowledge.com/bday.shtml to discover his name!

Then go to Yahoo! Mail and sign in using the drummers stage name (no spaces, please) followed by the year in which the R.V. Red Devils placed 2nd at Championships with a certain "stellar" performance (use all four digets)... His real name (also no spaces) will be your password.

Look how very far you've come. And how very weird I am ...

Yours,

Ophelia

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Subject:	Sick to stomach and other internal organs
Time:	8:22 pm.
Mood:	cranky.
Music:	Ticking Clocks.

Okay... I think we can call it cruel and unusual torture when for some reason or another a person of the highly sexual persuasion has been denied his or her release for something approaching seven days. That's right, ladies and gents; dear Ophelia, nympho and sadist, has been deprived of serious sexual contact for over a week and is still somewhat lucid. Miracle or pure coincidence? Only time will tell, for it seems that this week is going to be abother week of self denial and restraint. Jesus Christ, one would think I've turned into a pious Catholic.

I have not, I repeat, HAVE NOT given up sex for Lent. I am horny and ready to go as ever I was. I am just swinging between raunchy goodness and deprivation which leads to celebacy.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...

Ophelia

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Subject:	An Odd Conversation
Time:	9:49 am.
Mood:	contemplative.
Music:	Alien Ant Farm - Movies.

Matt and I spoke until midnight last night. We haven't honestly spoken in such a long time... We see eachother all the time, I know. We practically breath the same air, we seem to be so much in one another's company... But we haven't Quote-Unquote spoken deeply in a couple days. I think that when that starts to happen, the connection gets fuzzy, you know? And you start to wondering...

I told him last night that I felt he wasn't sharing with me as much as he could. He almost went into a panic; I could hear his voice rising as it does when he's agitated and/or excited. His ex, the one he's trying to forget, used to tell him that often, and the last thing I want to do is remind him of her. I felt that dredd that comes with the start of a fight. Or rather, a misunderstanding. It couldn't have been a fight; I wasn't mad...

In any case, I explained myself to him. How girls share everything with someone they love... Every fixture of daily life, no matter how arcane, is a conversation waiting to happen. I want to share my very exsistence on this earth with him... He understood when I told him this; he always does.

And then I spoke to him of something I've been afraid to... How I felt that some times our meeting, particularly during school, seemed almost mechanical, that we were just meeting eachother because we always did. I confessed worry over our relationship loosing some of its specialness, some of its joy...

And he felt good. Not that he was having similar feelings, no, but that I was a real woman. And I don't mean that in a deragatory sense... He was getting all cute and fuzzy when he was saying it. He meant, at least I think, that I was acting more seriously about us, about what we could become. It reassured him.

Have I ever told you that boys are unendingly odd?

Well, they are, by golly.

Yours ever,

Ophelia

P.S. Oh, yeah! I'm leaving for Richmond and a Robotics trip until Sunday evening. Wish us luck and I'll think of all of you and tell you how it went when I return. Ciao!

O.

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Subject:	Rutgers
Time:	12:21 pm.
Mood:	confused.
Music:	Two Asians on a computer playing card games.

So I'm presently in the student centre of Busch Campus in New Brunswick typing on one of those station thing-ies they seem to have in every college.

You know the weird thing about college visitations? It seems to start me to thinking about stuff and not just higher education concerned stuff either but stuff in general about life. And of course the thing on my mind most now happens to be my relationship with Mr. Daubert. I want to say that it has changed somewhat, but I don't know if it has. I think we're finally escaping from that mushy-lovey-dovey stage and getting into the stage of us, the real people beyond the romatic sensibilities.

And I'm not sure if I like it.

You see, I think this is why my other relationships ended. I got to this waking up period and then for lack of a better word, freaked. I couldn't handle the real-ness of it and got out. I can almost feel that caged-in feeling starting somewhere at the base of my spine.

But the thing is, and here's the trick, I don't WANT to get out. This is fine, this is GREAT, and I'm happy. But it's almost as if I'm looking for things that could possibly, at some point, make me unhappy. Like maybe his lack of exposure to things in the world . . . Which I can't imagine why. I am certainly not the most experienced person when it comes to worldly things. And he's more then willing to try new things, the things I like. Come to think of it, I'm not sure why he hasn't said anything to me. I certainly haven't gone to a computer show and have almost no knowledge of things technical and electronic. I am trying though.

(Sigh) Maybe I'm just over thinking this. I know that seems to be my tendency. I love him, I know this, but maybe I don't know to what extend. All I know is that when I'm not with him, I want to be, and when I am, I can't seem to get close enough. I want to be physically inside him. I want him to spend the night in my arms. I want to wake up next to him and see the morning light upon his sleeping face. I want to watch him wake and blink sleepily before smiling and pulling me down next to him, murmuring something I can't hear but know anyway before falling back asleep.

Is that loving someone, do you think?

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Subject:	Funny stuff and stuff
Time:	6:25 pm.
Mood:	amused.

I found this on a website. Funny, FUNNY stuff.

Endorced by Connie Lingus.
(2 guys standing on street corner)
Jim: Hey! Bill! Where you been? I haven't seen you around in weeks.
Bill: Well, Jim.. ever since I got my P.H.D.....
Jim: Bill! You got a PhD!? That's great! The boss will be sure to promote you.. when did you have the time, and what did you major in!?
Bill: No, no.. I think you misunderstood.. not a college PhD.. a Aphex's School of Sexual Foreplay degree... and I got it just this weekend.. I'm now the proud owner of the 'Pelvis Hiatus Degree'...
(scene stops)
(in walks lanky 7'2" Aphex)
Me: Yes, that's right Bill and Jim.. *turns toward camera* his life will be stimulated and happier because of his P.H.D... his wife will also be stimulated and happier because of his P.H.D.
Hi. I'm Aphex Mandelbrot, you might remember me from such adult films as "You're Going To Stick That --Where!?!--", "Schindler's Fist", and "Or Gasm, Where Art Thou?".. I also appeared many times on PBS's "Mr. Roger's Neighborhood", ABC's "MacGuyver (Epidose 482: MacGuyver Fixes Impotence with a peice of balsa wood, some duct tape, and 2 quarts of Everclear)", and many times on "The 700 Club" in their new "America's Most Sinful"... *camera angle switch*
*turn to camera* I'm here today to tell you about the Aphex Mandelbrot School of Sexual Foreplay, and the wonders it can do for you. Enhance your relationship with wife, girlfriend, mistress, or family member (bottom of screen reads: "Family Member offer only valiid in the following states: TN, GA, KY, AL"). You can choose from any one of these courses:
- "Get your head back down there, or I'll cut the -other- head off."
- "If you don't believe in a G-Spot, you ain't found it."
- "Making up for the small penis with a well equiped tounge."
- "Gnaw on my clit one more time with your sharp teeth, and we'll finally try that 'fisting' thing you've been talking about.. on your ass... with a watermellon."
- "My groin: Something for you to hurt with your fingers, Your penis: My pitbull's new squeek toy."
- "Learn to kiss, asshole."
- "Ask me to call you 'Daddy' once more time, and I'll take you to Kentucky to recreate scenes from the movie "Deliverance"."
- "I'm sorry. Does it really smell?.. here.. let me fix that.. *breaks nose*"
And! Featuring the first of many female classes at the Aphex Mandelbrot School of Sexual Foreplay:
- "Magic Lamp Penis: Squeeze once for the Corvette, twice for the condo."
*scene cut*
*sceen of Jim passing a large office, female moans can be heard. Jim stops.. scene shows back of a boss's chair, two female legs sprawled out 180 degrees from each other*
Female Boss: Jesus! Have the raise! Have the fucking raise!
Jim: Hey Bob! Could you give me the number to Aphex Mandelbrot's School of Sexual Foreplay? I think I'll give them a call.
Bob: *mrrmph* *mrrrrmph* mrmum rmrrrmph
Boss: Shut the hell up, or there'll be no Christmas Bonus.

Aphex Mandelbrot's School of Sexual Foreplay: When you care enough to give the -very- best.

'Men! Don't do like those 2 minute oral sex sprints on females, hell! Pack a lunch, stay for the day.' -Robin Williams.

Current Mood: amused
Current Music: Built to Spill - Stop the Show

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Subject:	Random Thoughts
Time:	5:59 pm.
Mood:	bitchy.
Music:	Jimmy Eat World - The Middle.

I think the theme song of highschool should be something complicatcated instead of the one chord-wonder jons most of us listen to whether we admit to it or not. I don't know how the greater republic feels, but I know personally that no bubble-gum pop number could ever address the pressing issues of my life. First of all, all those boy-bands' lyrics, yeah, sure, they SOUND sweet on the radio, but honestly, I'd laugh at some of the lines coming out of the wrong male's mouth . . .

And another thing . . . Since when did a love song ever tell the truth about a relationship? When ever do you hear dear ol' Britt singing about the commitment between long time lovers? It seems from the contents of her songs, she gets a new love every week as every freakin' song portains to the start of something or the end. What ever happened to the middle? That's the hard part, I feel, the part when nothing is sure and there aren't any guide lines to follow, just your own heart. The first artist that addresses this time of a relationship will be the hero of committers every where. No matter what the demographic says, there are quite a few of us at and around my age . ..

Oh, grrrrrr . . .

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Subject:	Phone call
Time:	8:54 am.
Mood:	content.
Music:	Guns and Roses - Sweet Child of Mine.

Now that that nonesense is out of the way . . .

I had one of those soul-wrenching conversations last night. It started at about ten-thirty after I returned home from a grueling day of sucking up to the rich nobodies of Burlington County. As per the usual, I called Matt for our normal "well how was your day?" talk.

But it wasn't normal.

For whatever reason, we started into some large topics. An example would be sex. We talked about if we were ready to "take that step" in our relationship and if we then felt personally ready and what that meant. He said that he's ready and not in that funny way that boys always seem to be such. He spoke seriously of our relationship, how we were connected, how he felt as if someone understood him for the first time in a long time and how his previous relationships had been immature . . .

But I know what you are thinking. Sounds like a bunch of B. S. to me. But you know, I don't think it was. And I know him; I can practically see what he's thinking when he says or does something. This was honest.

Yeah, yeah, right? But that was what we were being last night: honest. I spoke of my feelings towards him, trying to explain that emotion in the middle of my chest that makes me want to absorb him through my skin, makes me want to study his form, makes me want to make love to him . . .

And then I went on to explain why I wanted to take him to the art museum in Philidelphia today. The fact that I want to expose him to Culture with a capital "C", the finer points of the human exsistence. He deserves to know that there are other things out there then tacos and Sunday foot ball. He has been responsive to what I've shown him yet, and I think he'll enjoy this. It's important to me that he understands my connection with art and music . . . It's so much a part of who I am that if he can at least feel what this all means to me, he will understand the core of me that much better.

God, I hope its open.

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Subject:	Western Style
Time:	11:11 pm.
Mood:	frustrated.
Music:	Grrrrrrr . . ..

Let us just say that this has been a hell of a day. I spent . . . oh, fourteen fucking hours into robotics and what I am not refering to as the movie from HELL!!!!

I can't help but ask myself at this point why, oh why I even got myself involved. (Shut up, Ophelia. You as well as I know the reason. Couldn't be away from him for even a couple days, could ya? What happened to indepedency and all that rubbish?)

(Sigh)

In any case, I think the hard part was accomplished. All the video has been shot, I think. We may need some background stuff for various fillers, but besides that, I think we can start editing.

GRRRRRRR!!! I haven't quote-unquote "seen" Matt in so freaking long!! I'm getting to the point where I just want to drag his head between my thighs and yell "start sucking!". The sexual frustration of course is not helped by the fact that I'm so near him all the while. It's like an enescapable hell of torture.

Jesus jumpin' Christ . . . I'd better get me some lovin' tomorrow. My vocabulary is deteriating.

Ophelia

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Subject:	Apologies
Time:	11:47 am.
Mood:	depressed.
Music:	Some physics video.

Yes, I know I haven't written in a while. This week has been hell, much like many others, but I always think of the new semester as the cause of a particular kind of hell. I won't recount all the crap that's going on this week, but I'll say Chairmen's Award and Secret Garden and I think my future self will remember what I mean.

In any case, I am healthy, something one can't often say in this school. It seems that colds and such just go round and round in a group, and Matt and I have been sick one after another with the same thing, sometimes in a matter of hours. I hate getting sick, but I think I need a day off at some point. I haven't been eating that well lately. Lots of junk food.

Matt and I are okay. I've been feeling inconfident about his affection for me and find myself asking weird questions of him often. I need to stop that; I sound needy and even though I think I am, he shouldn't know that.

Actually, I find that often I try to hide my worst traits from him. He doesn't think there's anything wrong with me, or so I've seen. And I know there is. I am imperfect. I have many, many bad qualities, none of which I will speak of. If you are a friend, you know them already, and if you don't know them and are a friend anyway, I'll let you discover them on your own. I will warn you however, there are quite a few.

But I am tired and need to not think for a bit. That's what I want, not to think.

Yours,
Ophelia

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Subject:	Later that day -
Time:	1:33 pm.
Mood:	quixotic.
Music:	The Strokes - Last Night.

But not too much later . . . I have the house to myself and I finished Mom's cake for tomorrow . . . Finals are over now with new classes starting Monday. Yes! I get to take English again. Be gone you history!!! Fucking-A, that was a wretch of a class!!

In any case, it's hard for me to concentrate since I have my brother's music on. It's loud and punkish with catchy lyrics; my words are getting contaminated.

I don't know why I'm writting this; I guess I'm just procrastinating- I have Robotics stuff to do. The Chairmen's award and all that. Hmmmmm . ..

So much to do this weekend. I don't want to. I want to have a weekend off.

I should work.

Ophelia

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Subject:	A Doctrine
Time:	10:22 am.
Mood:	content.
Music:	The typing of stiff key boards.

The following is an excerpt from a letter to a dear friend:

" . . . Yesterday I thought of death before I slept. I managed to scare myself. Have you ever done that? Thought about the end, the point in time where you will no longer exist? A complete darkness is what comes to my mind followed by nothing . . . A finality in which absolutely no thought can be. I think that is what makes me quake when I am alone in my bed; the idea that there will be a point when thought for me won't exist, that I'll stop experiancing this world and all the offerings it holds out to us daily . . .

If one could see life in this light every day, what would become important do you think? How insignificant a final would seem . . . Or a homework assignment. If one saw every moment of a day as a chance to experience what it is to be a human, I think our duty-filled society itself would break down into something we would never imagine. A world of good endeavors could be born, a place that honors art and science and the record of human interaction with them both. Every person could be concerned with shaping a corner or rounding an edge of this place, and generation after generation would create a peacable, love-filled sphere in which one could not worry about death for it would be impossible not to live . . .

One should make the most of this time, for it is indeed precious; I doubt however that anyone including myself understands fully the extent of its worth. We should surround ourselves with people we love, things we take joy in and work that inspirers our passions. Then can we fully come into our potential as human beings.

My love always,

[Ophelia]"

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