Argh. Knocked myself into another three-hour funk today over prom. Yes. Prom. Yes, one of the best nights of my life (which mind you I will only get to spend part of with my date and girlfriend because she's been given a bedtime) is turning me into Chris -- I have -got- to work on that.

Why, you may ask (because whenever I bring it up, somebody does)? I dunno the whole reason. I've caught at snippets of it. I'm not sure it's so much that it's a final sort of thing -- although that's not helping, knowing that I'll lose touch with so many people after this -- but it's more the present-day (rather than future-day) aspect of it.

I dunno. I guess I've been around people for too long, really. I've been soured on a lot of people at Wash in a lot of different ways, for a lot of different reasons, though not so much that they're not my friends any more -- just that I can't get myself to be as close as I used to. There's this feeling of distance that I'm gradually slipping in that applies to a lot of people with a few exceptions -- sadly enough, I suppose it means I'm getting accustomed to the idea that soon I won't be seeing these people more than once or twice a year.

The truth is, though, that there are now a handful of people I'm considerably closer to that aren't coming to prom. I mean, Pat is, so it's not like it's a complete flump, and I am on good terms with enough people that I will enjoy myself, just...I dunno. It feels like it could be made better.

A couple people have graduation that day, Alicia's gonna be at West Point, Menie's a sophie, Rose won't go without a date (feh), Jessica couldn't care less about Wash, its students, or our prom, Rufina's having cut list trouble (*crosses fingers*), Elle's a junior, and Judy...arrrgh.

Judy...I shall admit on the one hand I was a little insensitive in part in my asking her to come to prom. Not so much in the asking, mind you (though somewhat there, too, with the date thing.) I suppose it was insensitive of me to offer to help out with the money thing -- I mean, a lot of teenagers aren't exactly rolling in it, and I know I'd be pretty stubborn, too.

But, dammit (yeah, so I'm frustrated) I'm still pushing -- I just...I can't find it in me to be an arse to her directly by doing so. I don't think I could forgive myself for being an arse to her directly in the first place, not for a while. As a result I may never be able to tell her exactly how much it would mean to me and to Patricia to have her there -- because she's a friend to both of us, because she only started dancing this year like me, because almost no one else I want there this badly seems to be able to make it, because it isn't trouble, a burden, or a gift that needs to politely be refused on belief or any other reason, because I know that with Pat's parents and my schedule and CCSF and Santa Cruz and Davis and life and time and money and graduation I know we may NEVER have this chance again.

I guess I can't begrudge her her opinion. I have a feeling though that if I asked anyone, getting my closest friends to prom is one of the only things I've felt this strongly about in my life, and so obviously, for reasons even I can't -- or won't -- entirely go into, -beyond- those above. But then by now I guess I should be used to beating my head on the brick wall our community likes to sticker with 'independence'.

...It just occured to me that she does have access to my blog.

...well. Heck. As long as I found it in me to type all this out, the one for whom it counts may as well read it....

Oh, yeah. I'm also 18 as of Sunday the 26th. Despite lovely and enjoyable afternoon with Pat and Veronica somehow no longer finding it sufficient to cheer up. Night.

Obsidian Command is dying again. So is Best Years. So is the Isis Republic. At first glance (and possibly second and third) the best suggestion this would seem to give me is that I should stop attempting to control, command, or create web ventures whatsoever, given that as the name and nature of this blog's title ("Intermittently Consistent") would seem to suggest the same thing.

Where am I going wrong, anyway?

Likely answer: Not doing enough, in essence. Not enough at all. Here I am, a captain -- or writer -- or administrator, depending on your point of view and level of understanding, and rather than be active with creating plotlines I sit on my duff and hope things will happen for me. At least, that's what it feels like sometimes, and I can't say I like it -- if I intend to be a command officer I should remember I won't always have Claire, or Frank, or Chris or JC to help me. Someday I may want to start an independent. Someday I may end up back in Bravo Fleet. Who can tell?

What I do know is that I really need to start recruiting or advertising -- which one is anyone's guess. Obviously in the case of Best Years I can't do a hell of a lot besides advertise, 'cause there's nowhere to put recruits. =) Isis needs new blood, though, 'cause all the old blood has stopped logging in, putting me in the classic position of leader of a mostly dead org (excepting me, Aly, and possibly Zach and Doc. Doubt Uly will be back soon with two UFP chars.) As for OC...

...I don't know what to do about OC. But let me tell you that's not a new thing. Ugh. I'm having horrid flashbacks to when I first took over on the game, when Claire stepped down, and the game went dead as a doorknob for months because of our Regent-Kahaj snafu (not a pretty sight). Now, it feels like I'm just getting more of the same. *snap* Game go splat, again. Sigh.

- - - - -

So I was at Lowell High School's dance concert with Judy (Lee) who I'd run into on the bus, and I was watching some of these incredible dancers like my, erm, erstwhile acquaintance Alla on stage, and I realized exactly how weak my technique is. I've found my knowledge of dance itself is improving; I caught the occasional slip and noticed bits and pieces of technique. Most of the above are mistakes and slips and bits and pieces that I've had myself.

I saw our Dance Concert video. People told me they liked my duet with Sharlene, and truth be told I liked it too -- I had a lot of fun with it and thought we danced it pretty well. I'm not quite right though, apparently; I saw the video and saw my own dancing style -- always a mistake.

It's not that I wasn't moving. Got the movements right. Got the timing right. Got the positioning, the turns, the lifts, the improvisation "right" -- just not well. Everything out of me was low energy, like I was afraid to move any farther than half-assed motion. Part of it, I'm starting to think, was wearing baggy clothes, but my clothing wasn't even that baggy. It was mostly that all my movements were slow and measured even when they were fast and losing control. I didn't feel like I was much fun to watch -- I hope I proved myself wrong on that account.

Or I may just not be cut out for dancing, exactly. Maybe after experimenting with hip-hop again this summer.

- - - - -

So, it's my birthday today. Sweet Eighteen -- yeah, it doesn't alliterate but it rhymes, don't it? I'd say that's what matters but I'd be lying through my teeth depending on your view of certain literary devices.

I'm going to lunch with Patricia and Veronica on Monday -- looking forward to it -- and Pat says she's going to figure out what I haven't done before in this city and take me around -- only kind of looking forward to it, but it's not strictly unappealing.

Well, consider. Much of my grown and vaguely-less-dependent life has been spent indoors, in the house I grew up in, mostly because when my dad asks if I want to go somewhere I shake my head and say 'nah' because something inside me clicks and says "I don't wanna break routine, go out of the house, or be bothered to do anything I'm not already bothered to be doing."

At the same time I do go places with my friends, but I still on occasion get this nagging oomph when it's somewhere I haven't been. Am I trying to be solitary? Quiet? Shy? Or, heaven forbid, conservative? *guffaw* ...Well, admittedly, the most discomfort I seem to get is when I'm trying (or not trying) to break routine. Mebbe it's a sign of something (there's an interesting thought).

Anyway, regardless, I'm eighteen -- legally can now develop lung cancer, liver problems, or sexually transmitted diseases. And enjoy myself doing so (in theory)!

I have got to work on this internet-centered cynicism....

- - - - -

Wheeeeeee I'm annoying! ...myself

I've found lately that I'm tending towards being depressed as often as not (not attempting, as Mr. Leach would fume at, to abuse the clinical term of depression, but dammit Leach, just I'm saying it for the sake of English, not diagnostical accuracy!). I can't explain why. Just...for some reason I'm abruptly more likely to blow up or implode on people (no, I still don't explode, I just fume and simmer) or, equally likely, abruptly sink into a funk of sorts and have difficulty recovering myself from it -- something like Chris with a faster timetable and more erratic intervals.

Bad comparison. Pat commented she didn't want a boyfriend turning into that...aaanyway. Not a topic I feel like dwelling on. =p

- - - - -

Stupid graduation rehearsals. I want to see Judy and Tamara's dance final. And Menie's. And Heather's. ...And Alicia's and Priscilla's and Sachi's and Sung's and Ashley's and Pauline's and Anthony's and...

...rats. Mebbe I'll work something out with Ms. Mayer for seventh period at least (if the girls in there don't kill me for seeing them quote-unquote "make fools of themselves". Still, one day I've got to go in to make my, er, special presentation to a certain somebody named Nina.

Hope everything works out. I know my life entirely to well to expect it will. =/

- - - - -

In other news I ate nothing but cereal and japanese seafood today, plus bits of fruit here and there. Variety score: 3 on a scale of 10

Whee! Recipient -- GWHS Director's Special Award! Something like Lifetime Achievement before the lifetime is well into middle age, though I didn't get anything I was nominated/voted for. That's okay, though -- excuse to stand in the corner with Trev.

Anyway -- toodles!