Jamalyn (jamalyn) wrote,

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Thoughts for 2004

Just an FYI for all of you out there: English—not my favorite language. :)

It bytes like a blooming bare.

Or something to that affect.

I seem to be having a difficult time with it as of late, though perhaps my newfound distaste stems from having been laughed at last night for saying that it was “midnight thirty.” *sighs*

Didn’t know then. Know now. Such is life.

Mai stopped me to ask if I was upset that they had laughed; if my feelings had been hurt. I smiled at her and told her (honestly) no, I did not care. But her question got me thinking.

Mai is the only person I’ve really let into my life to an appreciable extent and the more and more I think about why; the more I try to pinpoint our similarities, the more I realize that she is my (all-but) perfect foil.

Her attitude, her snap, the way she lives her life—different. Mai is one of those people others look at and say, “She’s lived,” though not always with awe.

She is the fire to my ice, the dragon to my…

I don’t rightly know.

Mai can hate and love anything, everything very honestly, without fear of overstatement.

She is decisive; her thoughts cut.

That is not to say that I’m indecisive, that I cannot decide whether or not I hate something or love it, per say.

No. I just don’t care.

I am milk.

I don’t know why. I cannot think of any particular childhood event to make me this way. No, I cannot really think of any time, childhood or otherwise, when I haven’t been this way.

In a way it is nice. I don’t worry about being placed in an uncomfortable position by other people’s thoughts or beliefs, even when those beliefs are that I should be different. Prattle on to me about stocking your pond or your savior; you are likely to get the same hmmed response. Do what you want, say what you want, think what you want, what does it matter to me?

I do not look for death, but I do not fear it either. Much of my worldview can be summed up in the phrase: when it happens, it happens. Does this make me a fatalist? I don’t think so.

Mai jokes that the first time she ever saw me crack a smile was the day she told me that, barring a good deal of political maneuvering, India could be sending a nuclear warhead our way.

It is a joke, but I won’t say I lost any sleep over her dire predictions.

Sometimes I think I live in my own little world, that it is different from where all the passionate people live. Sometimes I think that it is better, emotional people are too easy to rock, to control. Sometimes I wonder.

Strangely enough, the one trait that Mai and I share is that we both tend to scare people. They fear what Mai has to say and what I will not. I don’t know what to think of that, except to say that I can count the number of people on one hand who feel comfortable around Mai and I when we are together. It’s a bizarre sort of power, actually, in that I’m not really sure what they are afraid of, but there is still a part of me that wants to see just how far we could push it anyway.

Such thoughts are absolutely beyond ridiculous.

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