February 16th, 13:29 | Five things

This year I got exactly one valentine card. It was from one of my tutorlings (who's in grade 4, just for reference) and featured a pink Pokemon. I thought it was cute.

In other Valentine-related efforts, I got a friendly email, which was nice in that it didn't put too much stress on this overblown unholiday, and I was also apparently a victim again of un-delivered flowers. (This has happened before, to a different location, and I'm just starting to figure that I just can't have flowers delivered to me. And I'm okay with that.) I'm not entirely disappointed not to have gotten the roses, although I do hope that he gets his money back from the florist because Valentine's Day roses? Holy Christ, is that ever too much money. And I should know: I worked in retail flowers.

Oh, this just in: the flowers arrived after all. Two days late. Well, I'm not one to say no to fresh flowers... I guess this means the no-delivery curse isn't as strong as I'd thought?

Since running out of girly-smelling shower goo, I've been showering with soap. This is shocking for a couple reasons, the first obviously being that I'm actually out of good-smelling goo? What?? I know. I don't know how it happened either. (Well, okay, I'm not totally out, but I don't want to use my raspberry goo until I know I have fallback goo as well. I mean, I don't want to be caught *completely* without something good-smelling to shower with, you know, in emergency situations? Is that weird? It's weird, isn't it?)

It's not really a bad thing though. I have innumerable soaps from the gazillion hotels I've stayed in with good soap (oh whatever, like you don't snag hotel toiletries, especially when they're good) and also a pretty hefty collection of gelatin soaps from various girly-bath-gear gifts that I never got around to using. And I'm enjoying it.

I'm not saying I'm a soap-convert (although you'd think I should be, given my tendency to proselytize soap, and my desire to make my own ('cause, you know, if *I* won't want to use it, who will?)) because I definitely miss the way shower goo just carries on the steam and makes the whole area smell tasty. There is definitely something kind of refreshing about being literally squeaky clean though.

I can apparently no longer drink that celebrated beer of all students -- Moosehead. I don't know what happened, I don't know why, but I can't stand the flavour, all of a sudden. (No, chan, I'm not pregnant.) It's not that distressing, I mean, I always kind of preferred Strongbow anyway (so sue me if I like girly ciders) but it still strikes me as weird that all of a sudden I just can't drink the beer that got me through university.

In keeping with our society's tendency to celebrate mediocrity, my tutorling failed the science test I helped her study for for three weeks. I really just felt the need to document that, because it upsets me crazily, and frustrates me so much because she's a smart kid, and she's not even particularly lazy -- she's just got zero focus. It's ridiculous; we'll be reading (because her mom and I both suspect her problem is not the material, it's comprehension) and I'll interrupt her at the end of the paragraph and ask her to sum up what she's just read and she'll look up at me blankly and say "...I dunno." ARGH.

So to mix things up a little, I figure just going over her math homework with her isn't going to help, so I devised a set of math problems reviewing pretty much the same material, but I put all the questions in story format, so she'll have to read, understand, and figure out what I'm asking. And since I'm already in a less-than-stellar mood this afternoon, I'm going to be a big bitch and make her sit there and puzzle them out on her own.

That's not nice of me, really. I have no reason to be in such a headstate: I worked from home, my dad was home all day so he's been making bread (mmm...), I got flowers delivered to me. I have nothing substantial to complain about really.

Especially since the boy Formerly Known as The Boy visited over the weekend and I'm once again plunged into a chaotic emo mess. I don't necessarily mean that in a bad way; there are lots of happy, day-dream-y moments. There are some moments of sheer panic. There are weird, worry-filled, stomach-clenching waves that tend to end with me gathering everything I've ever disliked about tbFKaTB him or our relationship into a tight, angry ball, and clinging to it, ferociously refusing to let happy or hopeful thoughts near me.

I don't know what's going to happen. I'm still convinced that I really need time by myself. I was doing pretty well, with the occasional faltering tumble into the comfortable roadside ditch that is Validation, and then... and then he visited over the weekend, and we hung out for 3 days solid with some of his old friends from Way Up North. Even my parents didn't seem to think it was too odd when he took them (or tried; ha) to dim sum, and invited him over for dinner. I forgot how easy some things are with him, not like they're hard with other people just... it's already made, it's already comfortable with him.

I don't know what I'm going to do. A big part of me is still warning against this, on the basis that I have too much I still need to learn. The other half is arguing that it's futile to close myself to happiness, and (in words very similar to ones that were thrown at me, oh, about two years ago) why can't I learn as part of a side-kick-dom?

O messy life! I know I wouldn't have it any other way -- I never feel so awake as when I'm watching myself in tumult.

How many times have I said it already? My new mantra, these past few weeks. It's going to be a Happy New Year.

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