Long before Breaking Dawn, Edward Cullen has been (subconsciously?) thinking about biting pillows whenever they are near his person. I’ve been rereading Twilight for the lack of better things to do. *gets shot* Monitor pisses the shit out of me. (lol.. pisses the shit.. XD )
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice was soft; he stared intently at the edge of the pillowcase.
-Edward Cullen; p.474, Twilight
8D
So my eyes are suffering at the moment from this really horrible phenomenon known as the malfunctioning monitor.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my monitor. It’s huge, it gives me a lot of freedom to fiddle with things.. heck, it allows me to tile my windows side by side and not feel crowded or cramped. I adore it.
If only it would stop spazzing. It starts without warning, goes on for hours on end, and then stops. I can barely do anything much less keep my eyes on the screen without suffering some sort of epileptic seizure or headache. HP has no solutions. It makes me sad.
I want a new monitor. (This one’s barely a year old, come on. ;_; )
So on this thanksgiving, I’ve been thinking a lot about how far I’ve gotten as a social person. And I realized that although I might not have that many friends, I at least have the pleasure of becoming close with them in some way. (Well.. in my way, really.)
I hadn’t realized how selective I’ve become with the people I associate with, at least on a much deeper level than ‘acquaintance.’ Meh. Well..
How much can you know about a person though? I always think it’s subjective, that it depends on how much of themself said person wants to reveal. That part scares me. Yet I do the same thing. (Trust issues much?)
Recently, I’ve been syncing a lot often with a couple of people (*cough*Catwin*cough*). It’s kind of like completing sentences, only in a much creepier way since we often come up with the exact same words. For example, a phone conversation in the kitchen:
C: Okay, so her name will be Cain.
M: Yes.
C: Last name… last name…
M: *rummaging through fridge, intent on finding space* Emerson.
C: –merson.
M: *stuffs* ….
C: ….
M+C: *implodes*
It’s almost as creepy as the dreams.
Happy Thanksgiving.
What’s in your wallet?