Everything I thought about last night

I think that watching the video for Pearl Jam's 'Even Flow' is the closest I've ever come to a religious experience. There is too much hair there for it to be anything less.

Of course, Obama's 2008 candidate acceptance speech was a close second. But it couldn't quite beat out all that 90's flannel and waist length hair.

I don't know why, but I think if I ever met Lil' Wayne, he would set me on fire or something. It sounds silly, but I think he'd kill me. It is for this reason, and despite my love of his music, that he comes third on my list of fears, below 1) failure and 2) water I can't see me feet in, and above 4) spiders.

I had a dream last night I was with Shawn in East London. We didn't have any money, and after we dropped Kim off at the station, he turned into Julian Thomas, and we watched five people get stabbed and tried to run away so we wouldn't be next. We ended up in the fields behind my house in Suprise Valley in Boise. Who knew those fields are so close to East London.

Notting Hill Carnival

Life is like the Notting Hill Carnival. You walk around for a good hour and a half frustratedly wondering why you are there, you almost die in a gang fight by the plantain stall, and suprisingly, you enjoy it much more afterards, and spend the next two hours dancing to reggae music with chubby women in sparkly bikinis. I hope my life continues down that path.

Honestly.

Sometimes I wish I was watching my life from outside, not living it. I want to be detached.

This Temporary Life

Since the manager at Sainsbury's asked for my number, I've developed this irrational fear of men asking me out. I'm a really friendly person, and I think my innocent small talk is mistaken for feelings more often than not. Is that how lonely this city is, that a smile makes people fall head over heels? So now I feel uncomfortable talking to the men in my gym too long, which is a shame because they are so nice. But I'd hate if they ruined what we have by asking for my number. I don't need a reason to hate going to work. I don't dance with men too long at clubs, which is part claustrophobia and part not wanting them to get too familiar, and I could treat the men I do know a bit better. I get asked out too often. I feel so selfish complaining about that, because I know there were times in my life (most of my life, quite honestly) I would have given my right arm for the attention I'm recieving now (though of course, getting rid of my right arm would ironically hinder the male attention I seeked). I'm not an unfriendly person though. That's one thing I love about home, is most people are friendly and happy like me. Well outwardly happy, but no matter. I think my environment is to blame. Damn cold, polite, unfriendly London.

A man came into my gym today and signed up for a month. He was over six feet tall, black and had muscles upon muscles upon muscles. I'm nervous right now just thinking about him! What a scary man- and of course, he asked me my name, where I live (WHERE I LIVE?!) and touched my arm when I gave him a cup to get water from. He made me and Kristina so nervous, and of course he liked me. FUCK. Excuse my language, but seriously. As if I wasn't scared enough for my life locking up my work alone at night in a remote alleyway in London.