Matt, Mike and I managed to get the test of our new podcast, Aluminum Haberdashery, done tonight. We ended up talking about the "Princess Diana is a Vampire" theory; the recording clocked in at just under nine minutes for maybe two hundred words of text. That was exciting.

Granted, the echo on the recorder needs to be fixed. It's difficult to understand Matt when he sounds like he's standing in a cave.

Can't wait for next week!

Lovely day today. First after two days, one being awful and the other one being just blah. 

Our schedule was completely off the wall today. Instead of going 1,2,4,5,6,7 as it normally does on Fridays, the classes went 1,4,5,7,6, PEP RALLY. You've got to spell PEP RALLY with all caps because there's one thing about Mount's PEP RALLIES...all you ever end up doing is screaming your head off.

I almost misspelled PEP RALLY as Pap Rally...God, how embarrassing that would have been! XD

You: Yeah, I went to the Mount Pap Rally, and I won the Spirit Stick!

Friend: Are you sure you didn't go to an orgy by mistake?

Besides that, I had the nicest refusal in my life. Mike didnae want to go to the dance with me. Or the football game. To quote him, "I took a vow never to do those things. I'm an atheist, but I still have my morals."

EPICPHAYL, SABLE ANGEL.

But I wasn't too terribly upset by it. Why? Well, when he refused me, he stressed that it was not me, it was the activity. I must have looked dreadfully upset, for his face took on the "Oh shit. I made you feel that bad? I'm so sorry!" look and he kept trying to cheer me up. And he asked for my number. And he hugged me.

It was quite a bit like something that Matthew would have done. I guess that's why I like Mike so much, he's a lot like Mattie. Who I like more.

I thought it was so sweet, though, the song he was playing on his bari sax. Perhaps I'm being far too IB and digging deeper than was intended, but I supposed it was meant for me. The words were certainly pertinent enough. As the bus pulled out of the front circle, he was playing Van Morrison's "Moon Dance". It goes a little something like this:

Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
'neath the cover of october skies
And all the leaves on the trees are falling
To the sound of the breezes that blow
And I'm trying to please to the calling
Of your heart-strings that play soft and low
And all the night's magic seems to whisper and hush
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush

Chorus:
Can I just have one a more moondance with you, my love?
Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love?

Well, I wanna make love to you tonight
I can't wait til the morning has come
And I know that the time is just right
And straight into my arms you will run
And when you come my heart will be waiting
To make sure that youre never alone
There and then all my dreams will come true, dear
There and then I will make you my own
And every time I touch you, you just tremble inside
And I know how much you want me that you can't hide

Chorus

Repeat 1st verse

One more moondance with you in the moonlight
On a magic night
La, la, la, la in the moonlight
On a magic night
Can't I just have one more dance with you my love?
-Van Morrison's "Moondance"

Hints, maybe?

Boys. You think they can't be subtle, and then they go and surprise you. 

I dunno, maybe he wasn't trying to hint at anything.

Certainly didn't hint at his disregard for the PEP RALLY, just read his book as calmly as anything.

Well, I'll see him on Monday, maybe sooner. I hope.

Cheers, mate.

OKAY. SERIOUSLY, ANTON.

IT'S OVER.

OH-VEE-EE-ARE.

OVER. 

I do not want you back as a boyfriend.
I do not want to join your reenacting unit.
I do not want to ask you to my homecoming.
I do not want to be asked to your homecoming.

Stop dropping the sappy, subtle-as-a-hammer hints!

They aren't going to work.

I have three angels.

You, oh blond lecher, are not one of them.

I don't want you purring in my ear, stroking my hands, or trying to kiss me again.

You had nothing of substance to say.

Interested?

HA!
</endrant>

Anyway, today a miracle occured. No, the sun did not dance, the flowers did not turn into butterflies, and there wasn't a bomb threat. It was a little miracle, one hardly worth noticing if they did not know the Sable Angel that well.

He missed me!

I honestly thought he was too cold to miss me. I thought he saw me as stupid, and two days of me not being on the bus wouldn't matter at all.

Just goes to show you, God has a sense of humor.

He greeted me, he smiled when he saw me coming towards the bus. His eyes lit up like Joe's do when he's holding a rifle. I almost needed sunglasses...XD Anyway, he borrowed my College Stereotypes sheet. I just hope he doesn't get the Socrates stereotype Terra wrote on the back!

It's nice to know that someone like that considers you a friend.

I feel a little guilty, focusing on Mike so much. It's like I'm betraying Mattie...but Mattie hasn't been online. Ugh. I mean...I love Mattie, but it's so easy to stray from him. I can't see him, I can't touch him. I'm dreadfully unfaithful, I suppose. Buu's not too happy with me.

Ah well.

C'est la vie.

No quote today.

What I'm going to do, for this week, is not have quotes. Instead, in every post, I'm going to remind myself that I should not fret over Tim and the Psychoesse.

I think I have Mike. I don't need an immature High School Senior, even though he looks good in uniform.

I have Mattie, too.

And Keener.

Crimson, Sable and Midget Angels. ^^

From now on, my focus is them, not him.

And here we go.

If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.

Take that, bitch.

Dear Mike. So insightful. So brilliant. So utterly...emotionless.

And a pompous jackass to boot.

He is the only person who can make me feel like a complete, useless, idiotic waste of space. Not consciously of course, but if he "condescends" to me  one more time, I will give him such a dreadful crack across the face.

And in an odd way, I'm grateful for him. He's teaching me how to think again. Funny things, schools. They always tell you that you'll get a useful education. But they never tell you that the definition of "useful education" in today's world is blatant parroting, squelching of any independent thought, and learning how to put on a condom. 

It's affecting me so. My mother made a snide comment on how people were worrying after my mental health, thinking I'd be up to my eyes in projects. Not so, says she, because you're on the computer!

She might as well have said "You're not smart because you're not buried alive in drifts of factoids that need to be memorised."

I am clever, thanks!

Mike may think it useless and stupid, but I understand the theory of Schrodinger's Cat.

Like many other things that can be disproved, it's terribly interesting. It's also very hard to wrap your mind around. Which I have done.

My mother's never heard of it.

Why, oh why, must the female parental unit always be so catty and good at tearing down her daughter's confidence?

He may be nigh-emotionless, but that's what I need right now. A logical, cool-headed discussion with a friend that does not involve my grades. To lose myself in the infinite mysteries of the universe without facing the terrors of  Eternity (it's practically a phobia now, I have to beat it out of my head) is a privilege rarely granted to me. Mike is like my guide to that. I only need listen to him, and the powers of uncontained thought are at my fingertips. It's...liberating. I need not think in the context of this class or another, or worry that if I say something wrong, the small black letter on a piece of paper may change (Though he may get mad at me. I can handle it. And I know it sounds as though I'm in love with him, but it isn't true. He's too cold for that. He'd never notice.) It's the difference between...oh, come on, metaphorical talents, don't fail me now!

The difference between a prisoner and an angel. 

Two angels. Matthew and Michael. The Crimson Angel and the Sable Angel.

My Crimson Angel only exists in the virtual world. And I shan't see my Sable Angel until Monday. 

One loves me, the other teaches me.

And I shall go absolutely mad this weekend without them.

Now, turning from that.

Knight of Music's in a day and one-half. Red Bank is in two. Photo Ops for both of them. And this time, I'll be flaunting it for the camera. No braces, you see. I can smile like a madwoman and look good doing it. If I can get a camera for KoM, I'll do so. The messenger outfit I'm planning does not deserve to go to waste. All ribbons, white cotton and green broadcloth.

Huzzah!

Perhaps the weekend won't be so horrible after all.

Though I do hope he was joking when he said he was skipping...

"One may tolerate a world of demons for the sake of an Angel."
-Reinette, The Girl in the Fireplace