"cynicism is the romantic's condom." --diana trent

So today.
Today is stupid. Today is a whole new brand of stupid I wasn't really aware existed. Today is fucking stupid for a number of reasons, but let's get down to it, shall we?
Tomorrow I was planning on having a new friend over to bake cookies with me, but after attempting to do the dishes and my knee beginning to give out I decided it's not a good idea-- I think it may be retaining fluid, as it's still strangely swollen and the skin in a large area is completely numb :-/ I'm not comfortable with this AT ALL, so I scheduled a follow up appointment with my doctor tomorrow. After I gave up doing dishes I decided to make some food, but I had Elenore by The Turtles stuck in my head so I set my laptop on my counter and threw some veggie egg rolls in the oven. I also realized that having Aston over tomorrow would be an absolutely terrible idea (I thought I would be alright enough to bake tomorrow, but awkward would it be if we got started and I needed to lay down?) so I hopped on AIM knowing he was at work and that I would have a chance to chat with him.
Another old friend of mine was on AIM as well; we'll call him Roswell.
Roswell and I have never actually met. Up until recently he lived in Chicago, which isn't very far from me at all but we've never had the time or the money to spare to actually meet each other. We started talking via intarwebz a long while back, and hit it off immediately. We're both writers, crazy liberal kids, ardent radical feminists, etc. And not that it matters, but he's a very well-dressed transvestite, and ... well, for a girl with a serious cross-dressing fetish, that's more than a plus. For a long time we were incredibly close friends, closer than most people get and we would stay up all night talking to each other about psych theories, literature, philosophy, all that fun stuff I love. I was in love with Roswell for a very long time, in a lot of ways I still am, but I convinced myself that he couldn't feel the same about me-- after all, he is an established writer and he's much older than I am, not to mention he's thousands of miles out of my league.
Well, apparently I was wrong, because Roswell thought it would be a great idea to message me and tell me all about this dream he had last night about me and how he's always been interested in me and all that jazz. Which is cool, yeah, but YOU TELL ME THIS NOW!? Now, of all times, when I can barely handle my life as it is? Don't get me wrong, I've never met anyone like him in my life and he does hold a very special place in my heart, but I have enough I'm dealing with right now and I'm not going to try to handle a long distance relationship on top of my current relationship which has its' own fair share of problems. It's bad enough trying to be with someone face to face, let alone from screen to screen-- I've tried the internet thing and it is just not for me. Not only that, but I've never actually met Roswell; I'm one of those cynical people who doesn't really believe in traditional love as it is, do you really think I'm going to believe that two people can fall in love through text only? I'm a romantic, not a schizo. There has been more than one occasion where my hopes have gotten sky high and whatnot while I'm behind a keyboard only to find that the person is far from what I've imagined. I'm sure this isn't the case, but I've never been an optimist and I'm sure as hell not about to start now.
For some reason I have the strange notion in my head that when these shoes arrive I'll feel a whole lot better.
Not like the shoes I bought (which are fucking awesome, you have to admit) are going to solve all my problems, but more that awesome finds like that cheer me right up and I can't wait to wear them out. My fashion style has changed drastically over the past few weeks-- from this to this, this and this-- from very very goth to very very 1960's British rock in a period of about three months. I don't know why, there's no rhyme or reason for it, all I can say is that this happens every few years and I've grown used to it. Between freshman and sophomore year of high school I went from "I live in the woods and dance with fairies!!" new age hippie to hardcore punk; after senior year I went into that strange boho starving artist look that I think everyone goes through at some point in time, you know, with the skinny jeans and the scoop neck top and messy hair and all that handmade jewelry; after being very cruelly dumped by Edward I went to looking like I had jumped out of Repo! The Genetic Opera every day. Now I've started looking like I was a model for a Beatle's album. So I don't think those shoes are going to solve everything, but they are the perfect addition to every outfit I've been wearing lately, and it's exciting to watch this new chapter in my life unfold. It's not that I'm on the edge of my seat because I'm wearing different clothes; rather, this change in style reflects a change in my perception of the world and I'm very much looking forward to how things play out. Oh hell, I'm doing a terrible job of explaining myself... to be fair, I am pretty out of it.

So yes.

Stupid.