yesterday no one was answering a question correctly in class and my teacher became so incredibly depressed at our lack of potential that he just
right out the window
that since I went to college I have discovered my blog heading is indeed incorrect?
Logophile is not a word. The correct word is “philologist,” which unfortunately also happens to be an occupation.
I don’t want anyone to get confused. I am not
However, philology can also be defined as:
I do that.
Alas, I will stick with the word I coined in 10th grade, so as not to confuse anyone.
So, I’ve always prided myself on not having enemies or frenemies or what have you, right? I mean, there were a couple times where relationships cooled, but it wasn’t battlefield material.
I have a lot of feelings just chilling. They’re all floatin’ around inside my torso, occasionally bumping into the walls or an organ. And that is when I have the urge to express them.
BUT I CAN’T because I’m not a text-fighting, subtweeting, drama queen. Gotta keep up the image: calm, cool, and collected. Pretty sure my boss follows me on twitter.
You can’t have your boss see your tweet fight with your (best friend?) over the appropriateness of yoga pants.
And on THAT note: is this when it becomes acceptable to elect a frenemy? Is it when one of your best friends (who you admittedly haven’t talked to very much since you broke up with your boyfriend of 3 years) SUBTWEETS you about YOGA PANTS?!
Oh the humanity! Oh the infantility!
Furthermore, who chooses who gets to be happy, but doesn’t make sacrifices to be so?
Who decides which sacrifices are appropriate for whom?
Who decides who gets forgiven for making said sacrifice and who doesn’t? Who decides who even NEEDS forgiveness? (This is where my mother would say Jesus).
In all honesty, I totes bigotes own up to the fact that in seeking my own happiness, I diminished someone else’s. However, in my defense, I don’t think that it was my fault that this person’s happiness depended entirely on me.
And when you pour your heart and soul into a….(well, we’ll say goldfish) and the goldfish is grateful, but doesn’t exactly reciprocate, you eventually exhaust the fish food supply. Am I right?
And what if you were also a goldfish and you were sharing this food supply?
Perhaps you tried to tell your goldfish buddy what was going down. Perhaps you moved one bowl down the block once or twice to salvage what you had left of your food. Maybe you realized that the other fish really needed you and you came back with food in tow.
Food’s getting low, man.
I tried to explain to the goldfish that it was perfectly capable of obtaining its own sustance.
After all, it’s a pretty smart fish.
We all know how it ends. You get to the end of the line with the food business and something’s gotta change.
Unfortunately, in my case, everything had to change.
I guess if everything had ended at this point, I might not be dealing with all this frenemy business.
Because I did a no-no.
I went and got another goldfish.
A really nice goldfish (with his own food flakes and everything).
I wish I had figured out a way to do things by the book. Was there one? I don’t know anymore. I still would have wanted to end up in the same place. Does it matter how I got there?
I live about 15 miles away from most of my friends (who all live within 1-5 miles away from each other). I’ve kinda been in my own little corner since this went down. I thought everything was chill. I guess it was naive of me to think that.
I’m scrunching up my nose in confusion even at this moment. Like…what?
People are mad? At me?
People I’m happy to see aren’t happy to see me?
It’s so sick that I just kinda dove back into the bowl heart-first like “friendship is beautiful and camaraderie is my lifeblood and I love you guys!”
"And you love me, right? Right? ……right?"
I would like to say something that’s been j-chillen in my torso much longer than the rest of the previously mentioned feelings.
Like, for real.
Anytime it looked like I didn’t, I did
Anytime I looked like a stone-cold bitch, I felt like warmed up, runny pudding. And not any of the yummy flavors, either! I was like…tapioca. Everywhere. I was pudding so runny that I got loose all over the floor and I sunk down into cracks. No matter how hard you try, you ain’t gonna get that pudding back in the bowl.
But, you can use it for something else. Maybe to moisten a cake.
Anytime anyone wanted to make me jealous or angry or disappointed or sad or cry IT WORKED. I CRIED. I WANTED TO BE THERE WITH ALL OF YOU.
ARE YOU HAPPY? You wanted to make me all red-faced and puffy and snotty and rock-bottomy? Congrats.
Sorry. I’m a victim of nothing.
None of us deserves anything. I don’t deserve apologies, nor does anyone else. I don’t deserve repaired relationships with all of my aquatic acquaintances.
I will say, however, that my heart hurts sometimes when I think about certain pals of mine. I miss my pals.
I love friendship. I’ve been in love with it since I was in 9th grade. I love how it motivates people.
I feel like a desert, yet it’s always raining. What a paradox, man.
I miss my fellas.