%title Grr.
%date 2005-03-02 03:47:50
:diary:livejournal:fossils:

Some people are impossible to read, which is frustrating when they get real close to you, then suddenly stop talking to you for no apparent reason.  I'd ask, but saying 'Are you not speaking to me?' sounds - to my ears - like admitting to myself that I'm the center of the universe (however my forte lies in blowing things out of proportion).  I hope to find a way to bring it up in a way that suits me as well as the other person.

In other news, I've noticed that I've started pacing, and that concocting elaborate yet false situations in my mind has increased as of late.  Introspection is so wonderfully wrong ^.^

On the music front, Three Keats Songs (Lullaby, Stanzas, and Unfelt, Unheard, Unseen) seems to have stalled, starting a set of Three Cummings Songs (anyone lived in a pretty how town, The Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls, and spring is like a perhaps hand).