Carlos the Scientist (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scientificintegrity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dear_mun2013-09-30 08:43 pm
scientificintegrity) wrote in dear_mun2013-09-30 08:43 pm
Entry tags:
re: live show, canon is WTNV, long-ass voice test
I'm glad. Really, really glad, that things are working out between us, and I did something stupid but Cecil ended up saving my life-- glad that he saved my life and I'm not floating through some kind of delusion for all eternity. Not that he had to get involved.
And we're-- were gonna look for a place. Don't realtors live in deer stoma-- actually-- how about we not think about that one for now. Whether or not killing local wildlife is a good couple's bonding activity... Oh god, we're a couple, I don't know if that's exciting or terrifying and I'm willing to bet it's this town that made me that way. Gonna go with 'giddily happy'.
But I love him and I love it here and that makes it easier to deal with. Maybe. Even so, I can't help but be worried-- still, I know, it' doesn't even make sense anymore --that somehow this isn't going to work and this is going to crash and burn and it's going too far, too fast-- I don't... know. Maybe it doesn't matter anyway because time here isn't real.
What I do know is once all the stress and the deer-killing and the petty disagreements over kitchen size are over, it'll be nice to just... sleep in his bed, our bed (and we're taking his bed because mine is a piece of crap even if his is so soft I sometimes think it'll swallow me and drag me to the depths of the abyss). And I want that. I want that so incredibly much, even if it's hard to tell him just how-- argh.
God, I hope he can live with the fact I'm a post-it-note person. I'm pretty sure I can take whatever he throws at me, but I've been informed in the past that I'm a frustrating roommate.
And I know he says I'm bad at communicating, but that's not fair, he's a radio host who can wax poetic about anything at the drop of a hat. But we're working on that, I'm trying not to be married to the lab and he's not talking about us on public airwaves. He's trying to be less pushy and I'm trying to communicate better. Whatever that means. Is this communicating? But I'm talking to you, not him, and if I don't talk to you, you just-- read my mind anyway. Which is definitely unsettling, please stop. You should know by now I don't like things that shake the nature of reality as I understand it-- all right, all right, maybe except when they're mysteries to figure out. Like time.
Or Cecil.
And we're-- were gonna look for a place. Don't realtors live in deer stoma-- actually-- how about we not think about that one for now. Whether or not killing local wildlife is a good couple's bonding activity... Oh god, we're a couple, I don't know if that's exciting or terrifying and I'm willing to bet it's this town that made me that way. Gonna go with 'giddily happy'.
But I love him and I love it here and that makes it easier to deal with. Maybe. Even so, I can't help but be worried-- still, I know, it' doesn't even make sense anymore --that somehow this isn't going to work and this is going to crash and burn and it's going too far, too fast-- I don't... know. Maybe it doesn't matter anyway because time here isn't real.
What I do know is once all the stress and the deer-killing and the petty disagreements over kitchen size are over, it'll be nice to just... sleep in his bed, our bed (and we're taking his bed because mine is a piece of crap even if his is so soft I sometimes think it'll swallow me and drag me to the depths of the abyss). And I want that. I want that so incredibly much, even if it's hard to tell him just how-- argh.
God, I hope he can live with the fact I'm a post-it-note person. I'm pretty sure I can take whatever he throws at me, but I've been informed in the past that I'm a frustrating roommate.
And I know he says I'm bad at communicating, but that's not fair, he's a radio host who can wax poetic about anything at the drop of a hat. But we're working on that, I'm trying not to be married to the lab and he's not talking about us on public airwaves. He's trying to be less pushy and I'm trying to communicate better. Whatever that means. Is this communicating? But I'm talking to you, not him, and if I don't talk to you, you just-- read my mind anyway. Which is definitely unsettling, please stop. You should know by now I don't like things that shake the nature of reality as I understand it-- all right, all right, maybe except when they're mysteries to figure out. Like time.
Or Cecil.