<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971</id><updated>2011-07-31T13:54:48.334+10:00</updated><category term='Parsnip'/><category term='BNO'/><category term='Aura'/><category term='Metis'/><category term='Lust'/><category term='Soup'/><category term='Playground Bullying'/><category term='The Shop'/><category term='Health'/><category term='Sex'/><category term='Mental Health'/><category term='Hippo'/><title type='text'>Technicolour Nightmare</title><subtitle type='html'>Samantha, born in Australia in May of 1980: Taurus, 1 child (Missy, born in May 2001: Gemini), Tasmania, Australia, student of Architecture, unashamedly single, socially inept, paranoid, sometimes lonely, mostly happy to be who I am. 

</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-7639583926816754188</id><published>2009-07-13T16:48:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T17:02:19.475+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Soup'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parsnip'/><title type='text'>Parsnip Soup</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i671.photobucket.com/albums/vv76/semolinah/parsnipsoup.jpg" width="80%" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I go through soup phases, and I think this is one of them. I cook up everything from the regular pumpkin soup (tomorrow... yum) to the completely random. I'll walk through the supermarket and randomly choose things to turn into soup. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;PARSNIP SOUP&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2tb. olive oil&lt;br /&gt;3 large parsnips, peeled &amp;amp; roughly chopped&lt;br /&gt;3 potatoes, peeled &amp;amp; roughly chopped&lt;br /&gt;1tsp. rosemary&lt;br /&gt;1lt. vegetable stock&lt;br /&gt;1/2 cup thickened cream&lt;br /&gt;1/2tsp. cayenne pepper&lt;br /&gt;S&amp;amp;P to taste&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Heat oil over moderate heat. Add vegetables, rosemary, S&amp;amp;P and cayenne. Cook for 2-3 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;2. Add stock. Bring to the boil then reduce heat. Simmer, uncovered, for 30-40 minutes or until vegetables are well cooked.&lt;br /&gt;3. Remove from heat. Allow to stand for 5 minutes before transferring to blender. Process until smooth.&lt;br /&gt;4. Return to heat. Add cream. Stir until warmed through.&lt;br /&gt;5. Sprinkle with cayenne pepper if desired. Serve.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-7639583926816754188?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/7639583926816754188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=7639583926816754188&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/7639583926816754188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/7639583926816754188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/07/parsnip-soup.html' title='Parsnip Soup'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-2949543582986713629</id><published>2009-06-07T14:21:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T14:25:29.579+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hippo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sex'/><title type='text'>That Ship Has Sailed, Buddy</title><content type='html'>I got a feeling that Hippolytus was calling it off.&lt;br /&gt;Hippolytus called me Friday night and told me he wasn't sure that he would be able to come around Saturday because Lamiai and the children were sick. I think I almost scoffed. A part of me recognized that he probably agreed just to avoid hurting my feelings. Actually, it was the dominant part of my thought process. Only a small part agreed that it might be possible that he still fancies me and really does want to sleep with me.&lt;br /&gt;He turned up last night at about 7:30pm and told me that his children were sick. I invited him in for a minute so that I could listen to him make up lies. He had been granted permission to leave the house for a little so that he could go get the children their medicine (Lamiai has whooping cough or something). I didn't believe him for a second. I repeated, again and again and again, that if he didn't want to do it he didn't have to. If he was no longer interested in me he wasn't going to hurt my feeling by telling me so. He kept denying it though, insisting that I had no idea how much he wanted to (not that he could verbalize it with any confidence).&lt;br /&gt;As we sat there at the table talking I was relieved in a way. It's been a long time since I've felt someone else's skin beneath my fingertips. Yet I found that apart from my desperate need to be touched there was nothing in me that was attracted to him.&lt;br /&gt;As he was leaving, after about 20 minutes and me ignoring him, I asked if there was a chance that he could bring bread by on his way back. Awful, yes? Well he did bring the bread by. I asked him how much I owed him and he said nothing but he asked if he could have a hug. I figured, sure, why not?&lt;br /&gt;He turned up a third time about an hour later. I hadn't been expecting him to come back. He had told Lamiai that he was going out to get some dinner for himself. We sat at the table and talked... while I did crosswords and refused to look him in the eye.&lt;br /&gt;I had debated doing anything even before this. I am not the sort of person that would be the 'other woman' or cheat on my partner. It's just over this last week, after the rejection letter, that I have started thinking that perhaps hedonism is called for. It didn't stop me from thinking about seeing Lamiai at the school knowing&lt;br /&gt;that I had slept with her partner. It felt wrong. And sure, wrong is what I wanted to do, but doing wrong didn't feel right.&lt;br /&gt;As we talked I gave him opportunities but he didn't take them. The part of me that believed he wanted to be with me was starting to beat out the negative side. I could see his hand flickering as he tried to reach out and touch me but his nerves would fail.Opportunities missed he left. As we stood at the door he hugged me. I could feel his hands running along my body and his need to have me. I thought as he pressed himself against me that if he tried to kiss me I would turn my head, despite the tingling between my thighs. Tingling that had nothing to do with him,&lt;br /&gt;He called later. We talked and I made my point- the ship had sailed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't even believe that I even contemplated doing somethign that stupid. If I had been attracted to him then I still might have gone through with it, though I hope that I wouldn't have. Alas, we'll never know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-2949543582986713629?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/2949543582986713629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=2949543582986713629&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/2949543582986713629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/2949543582986713629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/06/that-ship-has-sailed-buddy.html' title='That Ship Has Sailed, Buddy'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-6342692529011240740</id><published>2009-06-06T14:17:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T14:20:25.815+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Becoming The Me I Hate</title><content type='html'>I called Hippolytus this evening and told him that I wanted to 'so something stupid.' Ugh, I can't believe I'm doing this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-6342692529011240740?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/6342692529011240740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=6342692529011240740&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/6342692529011240740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/6342692529011240740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/06/becoming-me-i-hate.html' title='Becoming The Me I Hate'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-8088521972657688750</id><published>2009-06-01T14:37:00.003+10:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T14:52:10.862+10:00</updated><title type='text'>What I've Learned</title><content type='html'>Life has been a patient teacher, giving me the same lesson again and again. Maybe this time I'll learn from it. Want to know what it is that I have learned?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To get ahead in life you need to be a self aggrandizing, back stabbing selfish son of a bitch. So that is what I a going to be. I'm going to call that woman and tell her what I think and how appalling it is. Then I'm going to start being hedonistic and sleep with a married man. Clearly to get anything I want I'm going to have to start being the opposite of myself. Why not? Karma is clearly a farce or otherwise I've been one of the worst people on the planet 'coz he keeps kicking me.&lt;br /&gt;So a big fuck y'all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-8088521972657688750?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/8088521972657688750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=8088521972657688750&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/8088521972657688750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/8088521972657688750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/06/what-ive-learned.html' title='What I&apos;ve Learned'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-7115725062217011149</id><published>2009-05-10T00:23:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T00:37:06.810+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mental Health'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Health'/><title type='text'>Going To Freak Out</title><content type='html'>As I sit here I can feel the panic attack beginning...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have an awful phobia of throwing up. Honestly, I do. I ended up in hospital a few weeks ago because I woke up and I knew that I was going to. I went into outright panic mode. I'm about to do the same right now.&lt;br /&gt;Eirene has a friend sleeping over. I got up to check on the when I hear this retching. Its her little friend throwing up in his sleep. Now of course my immediate concern was to make sure that he was okay... he was so far out of it that he didn't realize what was going on. Then I grabbed Eirene and took her from the room. After that I got him up, got the shower running and called his mother, whom I will find a name for later, to come and pick him up. She said just wash him and put him back in bed!&lt;br /&gt;Well for crying out loud, has this woman learned nothing about how I feel about vomiting!!!&lt;br /&gt;Firstly, you would think that she would come and get her child because that is the thing to do when they're not well- take care of them. Secondly, she knows it freaks me out!&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to be freaking out for days over this. (He seems fine now by the way).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't feeling very well earlier but I put that down to having my period. But this is going to set me right back to the beginning. I was progressing so well and this, well. I want her to come and get him now. I think I made that pretty obvious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its probably just over eating. I hope its just over eating. Far out. I should take a diazapam.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-7115725062217011149?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/7115725062217011149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=7115725062217011149&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/7115725062217011149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/7115725062217011149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/05/going-to-freak-out.html' title='Going To Freak Out'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-6991622773219375864</id><published>2009-05-06T16:23:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T16:26:05.375+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lust'/><title type='text'>Brief Moments of Arrogance</title><content type='html'>My plans were already undecided when I saw him standing across the road- Mr. TD. For a moment I realized why Hippolytus fancied me. It's all about physical attraction (that's where I lose the connection with Hippolytus, I don't understand what he sees in my resemblance to a koala), perhaps even chemistry. I don't know a thing about Mr. TD other than I wouldn't mind him pressing those full lips against mine.&lt;br /&gt;I was trying to decide whether to take up residence in a friend's back yard, window shop or go to the library for an hour when his presence added another element to my indecision. If he was catching the bus then perhaps I should go to my friend's place, giving me a chance to perhaps work up the nerve to actually say something to him... sort of like Hippolytus did with me (though I think that perhaps that has more to do with finally being caught out, and considering my rejection of him its probably not the scenario that I most want to emulate).&lt;br /&gt;One clarifying thought passed through my swiss cheese brain- "&lt;i&gt;What are the chances that he's attracted to you too! Step out of it woman, face reality.&lt;/i&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;Though for the briefest of moments I knew that I could feel his eyes on me. Though was he was looking at me with bemusement (there was an incident a few months ago with Metis that would have left no doubt in MR. TD's mind that I fancied him) or was that blissful moment of arrogance where I was certain that he wanted to talk to me too really possible.&lt;br /&gt;At least I allow myself those moments now, no matter how fleeting they are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-6991622773219375864?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/6991622773219375864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=6991622773219375864&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/6991622773219375864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/6991622773219375864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/05/brief-moments-of-arrogance.html' title='Brief Moments of Arrogance'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-1607732025257873685</id><published>2009-05-01T18:30:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T18:41:23.271+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Playground Bullying'/><title type='text'>Playground Fun</title><content type='html'>After Fraus blamed Metis, which she basically did (how in the hell does this have anything to do with Metis?), I started thinking. Metis gets the blame for a lot of things. Like this most things probably have nothing to do with her at all. Like Hippolytus. I started wondering how these people that seemed so nice to start with, were even friends, became such morons whos favourite pasttime is making other people life misery. Then I discovered there was one common demoniator-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pasiphae&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know the woman. I've only encountered her twice- the time she ambushed me and at a child's birthday party. I don't know the woman, only that she leaves me feeling uncomfortable. Yet as I think about it she is the one person that all these people have in common when they start becoming banshees is Pasiphae. Like Pyrrha. She was always nice. Not the brightest cookie and a bit of a drunk but nice. Now she starts rumors and bitchs about other people for entertainment. Lamiai and Metis used to be friends. A few months ago Lamiai would stop and speak to her. Then she became&lt;br /&gt;closer friends with Pasiphae. Now they don't talk at all. As we all know I don't know Lamiai but if she's anything like people say she is, she's become a cow too.&lt;br /&gt;And now Fraus. I've bitched and moaned about her the whole time because she's, well nuts and insecure and about a thousand other things. She only ever really started becoming unbearable after she started hanging out with Pasiphae!&lt;br /&gt;Even this morning when I spoke to Ms. Minerva she insinuated that Pasiphae and a her friends were malicious. It wasn't hard to understand what she was inferring when she said some of the problems the canteen was having when Chris was in there was because of Pasiphae and her posse.&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. Now I have to find something to do to fill my days. I really want the job.&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I really want to be a writer. But I'm feelign vindictive today so I really want the job. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;Que sera sera.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-1607732025257873685?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/1607732025257873685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=1607732025257873685&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/1607732025257873685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/1607732025257873685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/05/playground-fun.html' title='Playground Fun'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-4123567947872946494</id><published>2009-05-01T18:20:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T18:30:24.371+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Shop'/><title type='text'>Bitching and Backstabbing</title><content type='html'>Won't be volunteering in The Shop ever again.&lt;br /&gt;Not because I didn't get an interview. The job has to be re advertised because they advertised it as full time when it is only part time. I won't be going in because Fraus is a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;I sent her a message yesterday- &lt;i&gt;Eirene won't be going to school today.&lt;/i&gt; I figured I would let her know that I wasn't coming in because that's the polite thing to do. (Eirene and I were playing hooky). Her response was- &lt;i&gt;What ever&lt;/i&gt;. In Fraus speak that means she's really pissed off. It's what she says when she's being a self righteous twat. She didn't bother to ask how Eirene was, which others did. She just got on her high horse. I responded with- &lt;i&gt;I didn't have to tell you I wasn't coming in. I don't need someone else trying to make me feel bad.&lt;/i&gt; I was pissed off. Clearly. Her final response was-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Not trying to make you feel bad just cant keep doing it on my own&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't respond after that. She'd already made me angry- its her frigging job to do it on her own!&lt;br /&gt;I turned up this morning, like I do every Friday, and she tells me she doesn't need me because she's already gotten volunteers. She gets this attitude about how she didn't know if I was coming in or not. Clearly, as yesterday proved, if I wasn't coming in on my volunteer day I would send a message. Then we started getting into it. I told her if she didn't want me in there then I wouldn't bother coming.&lt;br /&gt;She tried to say that wasn't what she wanted. I told her that one of the reasons that I was so pissed was because she never even bothered to ask how Eirene was. That was everyone else's first response, but not hers.&lt;br /&gt;Some of the highlights-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Fraus:    You've only come in once this year.&lt;br /&gt;Me:    I've come in almost every day this year. Only once this term- because I wasn't well!&lt;br /&gt;Fraus:    I've had to do it all on my own.&lt;br /&gt;Me:    You get paid to do it! I'm just a volunteer.&lt;br /&gt;Fraus:    I've come in every day for two years.&lt;br /&gt;Me:    So have I! But you always knew that you were going to get the job. That's why you did it!&lt;br /&gt;Fraus:     You've changed since The Rock Festival. Ever since you got to know &lt;i&gt;that thing&lt;/i&gt;. (aka Metis)&lt;br /&gt;Me:    What, I've learnt to say no?&lt;br /&gt;Fraus:    And all your passive aggressiveness towards me.&lt;br /&gt;Me:    I haven't had a problem with you, at all. Its all in your head. &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just sent her a bitchy message;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;I have to say its all in your head. I haven't had a problem with you at all. If I did I would have said something, don't I always. Unlike some I'm not going to bitch behind someones back. I've just learned to say no and not let people walk over me and that annoys some people.&lt;/blockquote&gt;Is that clear enough. I'm itching for a fight.&lt;br /&gt;After I left The Shop I went to Eirene's class, asked Ms. Minerva if she could get something for recess because I don't want her going there. I went and got her some lunch from elsewhere.&lt;br /&gt;Because I was afraid that it might hinder my chances of getting the job, which I really want to get now, I went and spoke to Ms. Minerva. I felt a little guilty that I wouldn't be in The Shop again (when I'm not there she has to call in people from the office to help, and I made a point of that to Minerva) and I wanted to make sure it wouldn't hurt my chances of getting the job. I don't think that I am going to get the job, but it would be nice. It would be even nicer now.&lt;br /&gt;All fun and games.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-4123567947872946494?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/4123567947872946494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=4123567947872946494&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/4123567947872946494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/4123567947872946494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/05/bitching-and-backstabbing.html' title='Bitching and Backstabbing'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-8221212619335699350</id><published>2009-04-29T18:03:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T18:04:48.420+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Health'/><title type='text'>Could I Be That Crazy?</title><content type='html'>I had a pretty good day yesterday. I didn't get anywhere near losing the plot.&lt;br /&gt;I'm letting myself down today. This morning I'm feeling a little sorry for myself and a little paranoid.&lt;br /&gt;I saw the doctor yesterday. She insisted that the 'motion' that i had the other day was probably because whatever bug I had was working its way downwards and out. I need to start eating properly.&lt;br /&gt;I've got to go back next Wednesday for a psych work up. That way I can get 20 sessions with a psychologist. Is it weird that I am excited to go to see a psychologist? I guess that it is about time that someone diagnosed whatever was going inside my head. Its probably nothing. Or it could be worse than I thought.&lt;br /&gt;I could be completely nuts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-8221212619335699350?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/8221212619335699350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=8221212619335699350&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/8221212619335699350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/8221212619335699350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/04/could-i-be-that-crazy.html' title='Could I Be &lt;I&gt;That&lt;/I&gt; Crazy?'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-8246795805847235019</id><published>2009-04-28T18:00:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T18:03:04.888+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hippo'/><title type='text'>Can You Say Phew!</title><content type='html'>Can you say, phew!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hippolytus&lt;/span&gt; called before. He and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Lamiai&lt;/span&gt; have been talking, but from the sound of it he hasn't really said exactly what he's been thinking, and he's agreed not to leave. I've suggested, rather emphatically, that they go see a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;councillor&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;They've been together for 8 years, they can't just give up on it. If he really is as miserable as he says he is, and if she really does put him down in front of other people like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Metis&lt;/span&gt; says she does, then they probably should split. But for the moment (and selfishly for myself) its best if they give it another shot.&lt;br /&gt;The only thing that I feel good about in this whole mess, other than the compliments he doles out to me constantly, is that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Metis&lt;/span&gt; says he's a completely different person. For the first time since she's known him, years, he seems more confident. Happier. That's why rejecting him would have felt so bad.&lt;br /&gt;I do hope it works out for them.&lt;br /&gt;Now I've got to go get me a date with someone more my type.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-8246795805847235019?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/8246795805847235019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=8246795805847235019&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/8246795805847235019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/8246795805847235019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/04/can-you-say-phew-hippolytus-called.html' title='Can You Say Phew!'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-7078390373256618344</id><published>2009-04-28T17:57:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T18:00:24.229+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hippo'/><title type='text'>Too Far</title><content type='html'>This thing with Hippolytus has gone too far.&lt;br /&gt;I keep pushing the idea that he needs to give Lamiai a second chance because its the closest I can come to outright rejecting him. I'd feel guilty about saying no after all of this. Especially after him saying that he's always been the one thats been rejected and his terribly low self confidence.&lt;br /&gt;But I'm not interested in him. At the moment even sleeping with him if he were single is a unattractive prospect. Not because of him, but more because of me. I'm in one of those states of mind. I've given him that one chance I spoke about and I wouldn't go back for a second date. I've given him the impression that its a sure thing, despite my constant 'give her another chance and 'if you break up you need to go out and date A LOT'. I mean, he turned up at 7am to tell me what was going on.&lt;br /&gt;Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;I've got a doctors appointment this morning. I really did almost lose it last night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-7078390373256618344?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/7078390373256618344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=7078390373256618344&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/7078390373256618344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/7078390373256618344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/04/too-far.html' title='Too Far'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-4656783109866524573</id><published>2009-04-26T17:46:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T18:00:36.473+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hippo'/><title type='text'>Deal Breakers and Preferences</title><content type='html'>In an effort to take my mind off my insanity I have decided to try and outline what I would like in a guy. I don't have any specifics in mind- I will give pretty much everyone a chance, at least to begin with. If I knew exactly what I wanted in a man then I would be able to go out and find him. I know it when I meet him. But like everyone I have my deal breakers and preferences. Deal breakers, in no particular order, would be;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Drugs.&lt;br /&gt;2. Physical violence.&lt;br /&gt;3. Emotional abuse.&lt;br /&gt;4. Isms, or any sort.&lt;br /&gt;5. Misogynistic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preferences, again in no order, are, better written not in point form. Examples of things that I liked or disliked from previous encounters.&lt;br /&gt;1. Intelligence. One of the things, no &lt;i&gt;the&lt;/i&gt; thing, that I find unappealing about Hippolytus is that he isn't exceptionally intelligent. He isn't an idiot by any means, could actually probably be a lot smarter than he seems if he got some confidence. But I'm smart. When I'm not letting my brain get the better of me, which unfortunately is a lot, and when the synapses are firing properly (I swear I have a broken connection in there somewhere), I'm rather intelligent. I don't need someone with a genius level IQ but someone close to me would be nice. (I suppose a reader would come under this heading, though that doesn't actually denote intelligence).&lt;br /&gt;2. Someone I'm attracted to. This isn't a hard one to fill. While I think &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0641816/"&gt;Jason O'Mara&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm2063353/"&gt;Brandon Flowers&lt;/a&gt; are the epitome of good looks, I find a lot attractive. I can't say with any certainty that I like them tall or short, fat or thing, blonde or brunette. I like anyone from &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm2007553/"&gt;Gerard Way&lt;/a&gt; (as a blonde) to &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0235427/"&gt;Gary Dourdan&lt;/a&gt;. Character has a lot to do with good looks.&lt;br /&gt;3. Someone I can talk to easily. When I think of this I think of Atlas. That first day that we met we were sitting there for hours talking. It came so easily. I hadn't a clue about how much time had passed until some idiot make a stupid comment about how long we had been sitting there ignoring the rest of the world. I don't even know what we talked about but it came so easily. Not just that first day either. I want that.&lt;br /&gt;4. Sexual compatibility. That's kind of a given though, and a necessity, isn't it. What's compatible with me? Adventurous but also romantic. Someone that understands that there are times when I just can't get enough and other times when the idea is psychologically repulsive. This is a whole other thing. I have to say, Eros, the first guy I had sex with, really set a high precedent. I got lucky that way.&lt;br /&gt;5. Space. Anyone that I become involved with will have to realize that there will be days when I just don't want to be near them. While I am highly affectionate most of the times there would be days when I can't stand to be touched.&lt;br /&gt;6. Someone who will tell me that I am the most beautiful woman in the world and will tell me that while we're having sex I am the only person that they are thinking about. If I ask, 'is she prettier than me' he'll say, 'no', even if he doesn't think it. And he'll say it with sincerity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-4656783109866524573?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/4656783109866524573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=4656783109866524573&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/4656783109866524573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/4656783109866524573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/04/deal-breakers-and-preferences.html' title='Deal Breakers and Preferences'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-7198934243143333503</id><published>2009-04-26T16:33:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T16:48:38.884+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Metis'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BNO'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Aura'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hippo'/><title type='text'>Big Night Out (BNO)</title><content type='html'>Aura and Metis are a crack up. Those girls are class. I suppose at least fifty percent of the night was spent laughing. Though I don't think that they really are pub chicks any more.&lt;br /&gt;The night started at about 7pm when Hippolytus showed up. I had sent him a message telling him to come around before hand so that we could talk. I had all those ideas in my head about what to say. As for the questions;&lt;br /&gt;Does he want things to work out with Lamiai? He says that he doesn't want things to work out with Lamiai,though I am not so sure about that. He'll stay with her for the children if anything. He went around and around in circles with this question. He wants to but he loves his children. She'll make his life hell if he does. Now, I am only getting this from his point of view, so I'll try to remain a little unbiased towards this notion.&lt;br /&gt;How long has be been thinking about leaving? He's been thinking about it for a long time; they no longer sleep in the same bed or anything like that. They don't get along. One of the reasons that he has been thinking about leaving her lately is me- "if I hadn't met you I probably would still be sitting at home putting up with it all" he said. I didn't like that. This should have nothing to do with me.&lt;br /&gt;Has he ever cheated on her? No. I didn't even have to ask that question.&lt;br /&gt;What is he going to do about all of this? I think nothing. I don't think he'll ever leave her, and I suppose that is for the best. Actually, that is for the best.&lt;br /&gt;At about 8pm we went down to Metis's place where she and Aura were drinking. It was fun and they're funny. Their friend Cyparissus stopped in for a while, we sat around talking and when the rain finally let up, about 10pm-ish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(crap... I have stop answering private calls- it's him...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we hit NAME WITHHELD. The music was terrible but darn! how many looks did I get! Woo-hoo! I did think about talking to someone who was eyeing me off. I should have, it would have stopped me from wanting Hippolytus to touch me because this morning it does not seem appealing. Sobering daylight.&lt;br /&gt;The music and atmosphere was so bad that at some point we decided to head down to the Lonnie but Aura didn't have any id so we headed back to NAME WITHHELD's.&lt;br /&gt;At one point this drunk guy was walking by the table. He looked at me, looked at Hippolytus, looked at Metis and then saw Aura. His face broke into this great big smile. He looked down at her sizable chest and the smile became a giant 'oh yeah, baby' grin. I just cracked up laughing. Being drunk he took that as an invitation to come over and have a little chat. He stood so close I could smell him. Nor could he stand up straight. A would lean a little to the left and he'd lean a little to the left. I was like his retaining wall. We were having a 'chat' for about ten minutes when he started becoming obsessed with this hot guy, wondering who he was and how he knew him. The guy was interesting enough, didn't look terrifying or anything. Actually looked quite nice. The Drunk Bloke though wouldn't talk to him because he was talking to two women (though I have to say, while these two women looked good The Hot Guy did not look interested). I don't know how I finally got rid of him, but it was funny while it lasted.&lt;br /&gt;The funniest part, but not in a ha-ha funny way, was that we ran into several people from the school and Hippolytus may get himself into trouble for that. If only he'd told her he was going out. Been honest. I want it to end now.&lt;br /&gt;After we left, early, I had Hippolytus come in for a little. I know I said that I wanted him to touch me, but I would have done with anyone touching me last night. Someone just to reach out and hold my hand. He was so good though. Didn't touch me once. Good. Perhaps my plan to get him to dislike me has worked!&lt;br /&gt;While we were talking I kept going back to Lamiai because I think that's what he needs to think about. His family. Go to them, work it out.&lt;br /&gt;It's not funny any more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-7198934243143333503?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/7198934243143333503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=7198934243143333503&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/7198934243143333503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/7198934243143333503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/04/big-night-out-bno.html' title='Big Night Out (BNO)'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-678511210785043467</id><published>2009-04-26T16:31:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T16:39:27.620+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hippo'/><title type='text'>I Didn't Lay a Finger On Him, I Sear</title><content type='html'>We got home from the pub early, but it was still fun.&lt;br /&gt;I swear, I was &lt;i&gt;&lt;u&gt;that&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/i&gt; close to sleeping with Hippolytus, if he would have slept with me. He never even once touched me. Though that didn't stop me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-678511210785043467?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/678511210785043467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=678511210785043467&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/678511210785043467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/678511210785043467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-didnt-lay-finger-on-him-i-sear.html' title='I Didn&apos;t Lay a Finger On Him, I Sear'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-721343789532479717</id><published>2009-04-25T16:26:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T16:30:46.217+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hippo'/><title type='text'>I Want To Be Touched</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hippolytus&lt;/span&gt; is supposed to be hitting the pubs with us tonight.&lt;br /&gt;I didn't buy condoms, so that's a start.&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I will do anything. If he does come out with us tonight, and if he is still interested in me by the end of the night, then I will invite him in. But only so that we can talk. Tell him everything that I have been thinking (other than the part where I don't really think that he is my type and the reasons for that).&lt;br /&gt;Last night seems so surreal. I want him to tell me again that he looks forward to Thursday and Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That he thinks about me all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will say to him that, and this will just all be a rehash of things that I have said before, in point form...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. You're in a relationship.&lt;br /&gt;2. If you break up with her then I wouldn't say no to "getting to know" him.&lt;br /&gt;2a. That is only if he breaks up with her for any other reason than for me (not that I'm that arrogant).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are more questions that I want to ask. Most of the questions resolve around me getting the answer I expect for number one...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Do you want things to work out with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Lamiai&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;2. How long have you been thinking about the reasons for leaving her?&lt;br /&gt;3. Why have you been thinking about leaving her?&lt;br /&gt;4. Have you ever cheated on her?&lt;br /&gt;5. What are you going to do about all of this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many other thoughts going through my head but I keep forgetting about them as I go to write about them (I'm distracted by the television). I think the best thought going through my head is that hopefully when we go out I'll meet some hot, sober guy who wants to take me home and &lt;i&gt;take me&lt;/i&gt;. I want to be touched tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-721343789532479717?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/721343789532479717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=721343789532479717&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/721343789532479717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/721343789532479717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-want-to-be-touched.html' title='I Want To Be Touched'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-5959277456832598465</id><published>2009-04-24T12:31:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T16:22:48.053+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Late Night Visitor</title><content type='html'>Guess who just turned up on my door step!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to touch him. But all I could do was say that I think he needed to sort things out at home first.&lt;br /&gt;I had an inkling about who it would be when I heard the knock on the door. Most people know better than to just turn up at my place, especially before a certain time.&lt;br /&gt;"Can I talk to you for a  minute?" He asked. I could feel my heart in my chest- he was giving me indigestion! I nodded and followed him outside  so that we could talk without Eirene listening in. And because the house is a bit of a mess.&lt;br /&gt;"I suppose Metis has told you how I feel about you." he said.&lt;br /&gt;"Of course." I replied. (Oh! For a voice recorder!) He decided that it was about time that he told me how he felt. He's 'drawn' to me and really wants to get to know me. He's been getting headaches because he's been stressing about how to do it. How after Thursday and Friday he spends the rest of the week thinking about me, a lot.&lt;br /&gt;"I really like you."&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know why." I responded.&lt;br /&gt;"Because you're nice and, uh, easy on the eye."&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know what to say."&lt;br /&gt;"I don't expect you to say anything. I just wanted to tell you."&lt;br /&gt;We needed to talk about his family. If he intended on staying with Lamiai. We discussed what their problems were (she takes 75% of the money he earns so if he wants something he has to ask her; she wants things that he can't give her, like money to renovate the house or buy a bigger house; how if she hadn't gotten pregnant so quickly they wouldn't still be together; if they try to talk she mocks him;).&lt;br /&gt;I said that I really didn't know what to say, he had to try and have a talk with Lamiai.&lt;br /&gt;We bitched a little about her friends, because that's also a problem. The gossiping and the innuendo. At some point he reiterated how he really wanted to get to know me but he couldn't because if he spoke to any of us, even innocently, it would get back to Lamiai (another problem, he can't really be friends with who he wants to be friends with)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(...shit... he's on the phone right now)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finished the conversation by reiterating everything that we just said, mostly with him saying how he really wants to get to know me.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted him to touch me. I know he's not my type, but that doesn't mean that it isn't all flattering and amusing and I just want someone to touch me.&lt;br /&gt;That phone call. Metis innocently suggested that he come out with us tomorrow. He wants to come out with us tomorrow- he's gotten permission.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is going to happen between us, so is there any harm in a couple of friends going out together?&lt;br /&gt;I wonder what he meant by "there's another problem" when I mentioned that I didn't have much to talk about. Now I am being paranoid.&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Lamiai. Must keep her in mind.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-5959277456832598465?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/5959277456832598465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=5959277456832598465&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/5959277456832598465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/5959277456832598465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/05/late-night-visitor.html' title='Late Night Visitor'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-2571556837942294033</id><published>2009-04-24T10:30:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T16:22:03.932+10:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Hippo'/><title type='text'>He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not</title><content type='html'>I was stuck talking to Hippolytus this afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="sidebar"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;A bit of background... I met Hippolytus either early last year or the end of the year before. Being friends with Metis he came and sat and talked to us while we waited- about his neutering of all things. I'd never paid attention to him nor did he never really crossed my time until about nine or ten months ago. Metis informed me one evening that she had been lucky enough to have had a conversation with him when I wasn't around, about how he fancied me. Flattered and amused I noted it in my journal and quickly forgot about it. I wasn't interested in him, and beside that he's been with Lamiai for 8 years and they have four children.&lt;br /&gt;That was until a few months ago when it started getting serious. While Metis was on her way home Hippolytus pulled over, covertly because Lamiai would not have been happy to know that they were friends, and told her that he really, really, really liked me. LIKED ME! I was flattered, but more amused than anything.&lt;br /&gt;It isn't that I thought/think myself better than Hippolytus that we found entertaining, its more that he's just so not my type and how obvious he was once we actually started paying attention. Everyone would tease me about it but no one said anything to him. This went on for months. Until today...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I had thought after yesterday that he was no longer interested in me- he seemed not to be looking at me as much as he used to. Before every time I turned in his direction he was ogling me (me!). Alas, I spoke to him this afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;The most memorable moments of the conversations were these...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Hippolytus was talking about how he had gone driving down the coast a few times. I sarcastically- and stupidly- said "next time you go, you know where I live." He responded with "you don't know how many times I've thought about it." Then he stopped himself quickly and tried to come up with something that sounded less like it actually was. A 'because, you know, once you said... that you'd never been down there' response to cover a slip.&lt;br /&gt;-I reiterated how we had almost been neighbours. He had said that he wouldn't have minded that.&lt;br /&gt;-We were discussing Lamiai, because I wanted to keep bringing the conversation back to that (the way that I did with Atlas last year, after I discovered that he had a missus so that I could remind myself (and him a little) that there was someone else to consider.) Of course he wasn't painting a pretty picture of his relationship with her (they had a brief fling, she got pregnant and they stayed together because of that and the subsequent children). At one point he was discussing how things weren't working and I know he was just about to say that he had to sort things out, as in leave her, but he caught himself. (Once again I wish that I had a voice recorder).&lt;br /&gt;.When Metis finally turned up we discussed possibly hitting the town tomorrow and she made a point of saying that if Hippolytus wanted to come out, if he was allowed to, that we would be at NAME WITHHELD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I want to go? Do I really want him to turn up? Yes. I do. Did I flirt a little today? Yes, I did. Will I do anything if I have the chance... I hope not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-2571556837942294033?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/2571556837942294033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=2571556837942294033&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/2571556837942294033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/2571556837942294033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/05/he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not.html' title='He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7557971.post-4344859857082913825</id><published>2009-01-02T12:41:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T18:42:24.542+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Cast</title><content type='html'>Clearly none of these names are the actual names, instead I've chosen to assign people names of Greek gods/godesses/myths/characters according to their personalities, as close as they can get that it. To sort it all out, here's a list of the people in my life, a cast if you would like...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eirene...............My friendly, beautiful, amazing primary school aged daughter. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Metis.................Friend; parent&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hippolytus........Lamiai's partner of 8 years; friend; fancies me&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lamiai...............Hippolytus's partner of 8 years;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mr. TD..............Guy I'm lusting after;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Aura..................Metis's sister; friend;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fraus................."Frienemy" (I finally understand that term); evil bitch;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pasiphae............The Enemy; &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ms. Minerva.....Teacher and Eirene's school/principle&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Pyrrha...............'friend'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7557971-4344859857082913825?l=semolinah1.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/feeds/4344859857082913825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7557971&amp;postID=4344859857082913825&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/4344859857082913825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7557971/posts/default/4344859857082913825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://semolinah1.blogspot.com/2009/05/cast.html' title='Cast'/><author><name>Technicolour Nightmare</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13619262078940316519</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
