my unconscious is a freaking lush

For the second time this week I dreamed about getting royally hammered with people.

(... and more name-dropping than ever in the history of my livejournal.)

The first time it was in my parents' house, of all places, with mystic_isles000, alosersdream, rpgmaniac666, Anjani, Kiki from high school, and someone who might have been Tori Rhoades at 21. But we couldn't use the blender because my parents were asleep upstairs. And Anjani didn't want to drink with us, not because she's more responsible than the rest of us Kripalu brats, as in real life, but because she'd already got wasted somewhere else with other friends. HA!

Last night I dreamed that I moved to Boston to live with in_parentheses and nacl. Only boiledokra lived there too... for some reason. And the basement of their apartment looked kind of like the basement of Sayles Hall. And we were all going out to get ragingly trashed in Somerville possibly with redbeard, jupiterempath, keenween and other Kappas (I think saidshe was still in the lab, sorry) to wait around for 4 a.m., when we were going to go to the NASA headquarters (in Boston, didn't you know?) to watch some live feed of something or other.

In that dream, I actually did still have mono, but was so brain-stupid that I forgot about the exploding-liver situation until I'd already gotten well and toasted. So, due to concerns of my potential death, I didn't go to NASA. Boo. I don't think I died, either, though.

Is this some side-effect I didn't know of for long-term alcohol deprivation? Let's pretend what I'm craving is human contact rather than alcohol itself. Although, seriously, to put in a request to my subconscious, the next time I dream about social interaction, it should end with *sex*? Or, at least, some making out with strangers at a crazy King House party??? I miss that.

In other news, my father is BLASTING opera in the next room. No amount of closed doors can protect me from this. Having been born and bred to classical music, I'm fairly okay with most of it. But this? Sounds like someone is strangling a cat and then singing heroically about it. MAKE IT STOP.

Edited to add: Oh. Apparently the opera I was mocking is, DadQuote: "One of the greatest musical achievements of the nineteenth century!" Later, he is going to sit me down and properly culturally educate me because, apparently, I will be unable to function in adult company without a detailed knowledge of Italian composers. In retaliation exchange, I have proposed that I be allowed to culturally educate him about Delerium.

-- Little Red, all day I dream about SKYY

self-pity unlgeee party

No, fuck it.

My positive outlook has definitely cracked. A little.

Saying more is whiny, and whatever. Time is moving by so quickly and I'm not on board for any of it. I got an email from vagenna about Senior Tributes asking if I wanted to be included and I was My God, I don't know if I should be. Do I really count anymore? I've never even met the pledge class. I haven't even been an active sister, seen most of my siblings in two months.

I hate being this way. I was a sister, a good friend, a best friend, a confidante, a party-thrower, a senior in the fraternity, I was there. I am a fucking great employee and was oh-so-ready to get into the working world for real and here I am moving back in with my parents because I'm too sick to get a damned job before my lease elapses. I am not there for my friends as they graduate and stress and party and induct new sibs and, most of the time, I don't even have the energy to be upset about it. I got lonely and then burnt out on less than an hour on AIM because talking to more than one person at a time, and sometimes even one person, kicks my ass, and because I am embarrassed to say over and over again I really can't tell you anything about my life right now because nothing is going on. My goal every single day is to get down more than one serving of protein, remember to take a few of my eight thousand pills, and if I'm feeling up to it to watch a TV show I've already seen so I don't have to concentrate on the plot. I might leave the house more often if I didn't run the risk of encountering people I know and having to hold even a brief conversation.

I can barely read through the livejournal entries of the people I care most about. I am a month behind on email. I know that they will forgive me, but they shouldn't have to. (dryadlaura, go to Japan, and I have actual thoughts that I will write you soon. pirateelmo, someday I really will *read* your wonderful assignments. Consider it delayed inspiration. mystic_isles000, I'll read your lj and laud your epiphanies soon... for now, just assume I read it and said "you're right! you're brilliant! and other people are assheads!". saidshe, I miss you; don't leave the country without telling me first. And somebody tell Rina Jean that I got her letter, and make her get a livejournal.)

My friends deserve more than this.

I have made myself shallow to cope. I can't get depressed like the first time I was sick like this, so I find gleee where I can and laugh at myself and how useless I am and breathe and meditate and accept that this is where I am and I haven't learned this lesson yet and will be here till I do. (Escapism has always been one of my strengths, and my ability to really be entertained by little random things is one of my favourite parts of myself and why I enjoy my life so much.) I forge internet friendships that have no history and find myself thinking more about fictional characters than real people who I love because I just don't have it in me to give anything in an emotional connection. I am NOT built for isolation and I need some kind of human contact, so I use virtual friends like I can't use real friends -- because I need attention and distraction but have nothing deeper to give back. Because I can be unreliable, and if I burn out I can disappear on short notice. And, you know, it doesn't require me leaving my bed :).

Little Red matters less than Sachi. I can't deal with thinking about what's really going on in my life or what I will do if this *doesn't* go away soon, so I distract myself with other people's characters, let all my self-worth and identity get wrapped up in that because there is nothing else and everything that is really mine has been put on hold, and stay up at night fretting over whether or not I should submit my stories to the freaking Stargate Fanfic Awards.

Uh... *whew.* Got that out of my system :) As you were.

*love!* to all who put up with my moods

-- Little Red, who will now return to her regularly scheduled naptime

(general post script: If you find yourself taking anything I said mid-rant badly, please don't. I didn't mean it that way.)