realisations and delectables

today i feel: exhausted and accomplished: just how i like it
today i'm hearing: the strokes--is this it?
today i'm thinking: it's been a day. ...unfortunately, there are more to come.

Today, I had an incredible and valiant discovery. This discovery came about through literal hours of physical and mental exertion, and I am happy to say that it is very concrete and correct and if anyone makes an argument of a contrary nature, I shall do the immensely mature thing of ignoring them and dropping something cold and squishy down their pants. My discovery is this: it is very tiring to be nice to someone you do not, in fact, like. However, the rewards are endless.

Par examplay.

My niceness is very irritating to this person (as they are not terribly fond of me either. Apparently, I'm a threat, which is an ego stroke in and of itself). This person's continued irritation at my constant niceness will cause agitation that will, likely, result in this person becoming even more upset with me and resort to conflict. However! Since I am being, to all outside observers, nothing but pleasant, I cannot be put at fault for this conflict. HOW COOL IS THAT? My da always told me to be nice to people that didn't like me because it would drive them crazy, and my da's just a sadistic fuck like that, bless him. But he never explained that my outward niceness would result in a strange state of martyrdom when and if conflict occurs. And--and I know I sound like a terrible person when I say this but it really is juicy--it's really terribly amusing to watch confusion turn to irritated indifference and then to absolute fury. It's fantastic!

Oh, the sadistic pleasures of feigned kindness. How juicy and succulent you are. Rather like a rare, exotic fruit.

The only issue I can forsee in this little experiment I am conducting is that I am certifiably exhausted from the exertions of polite conversation. You never realise just how tiring it is until you partake in it with a rival-equivalent for eight hours of your day. I don't really have a rival, see. Too costly. But they take a lot out of you, decencies. And I know that something's going to happen that will make it impossible for me to keep up my act because that's just kind of what happens with me. I can't avoid drama! When I try to, it comes and finds me! We're old friends, drama and I. I think I loaned her my snowshoes once.

You know what's frustrating to me? Being friendly towards someone can so easily be construed as flirting. And the problem is that it's so damn hard to tell the difference! Because you're nice to people you flirt with, right? At least when the flirtation actually results in something beneficial, for lack of a better word. The lines have become so blurry because of our ridiculously repressed society that you can't know when you're flirting with someone and when you're just being friendly. That's sick! It's such a petty cry for help, and I'm really not insulting anyone here because we all know that I'm, apparently, a shameful flirt. Thank you again to my sadistic fuck of a father. Oh, how I adore him.

Par examplay.

This guy in my theatre department and I are friends. He's a pretty cool cat, at least in my opinion. We've always gotten along, despite his occassionally dickish behaviour to people I'm friends with. But we trade music a lot and talk about plays and, whatever, we're cool. I can dig that he's a bit of an idiot. He's in theatre. But I digress. Today, he said that we should go get coffee sometime. And I agreed because coffee is delicious and it would be fun conversation and perchance I might acquire some cheesecake while I'm there and mmm cheesecake what a delicate temptress you are. With your cheesy cake goodness and crumbly graham cracker crust. Shit. Now I want cheesecake.

But now there is a complication to the still whispy fantasy of my beautiful cakey mistress. Going for coffee is a simple thing. But is this 'going for coffee', or 'Going For Coffee'. Obviously, the capital letters mean a difference of outcome from an adventure of two peers. And I think it's just coffee. But what if it's not just coffee? Have I signed my doom to something other than just coffee? Have I, in fact, sealed myself in a fate far away from my childhood dreams of simple coffee-and-cheesecake-time? Yes, I am still hung up on the cheesecake. It's tasty.

There should not be this question in my mind. I am a relatively mature, mini-adult. I am not terribly frightened of the prospect of coffee with this friend of mine. But on further inspection, I realised that there may be implications in my agreement that I did not either intend or prepare myself for. And that is sick, ladies and gentlemen. Because we supposedly live in a free country. And in free countries, there should be no complications to cheesecake. Unless they have all-ready been specified. Which they have in my life. Just not with this particular male companion. See? I can be a tease too.

Mwahaha.