Happy Saint Sebastian's Day

Hurt someone you love* today, just like they've always wanted you to. (Thanks, Zan.)

Today I took the GRE. I conquered the verbal portion, but the mathematics did in fact thrash me and make me cry real tears, which is no shock as I haven't had maths since high school. (Which was seven years ago, if anyone's counting.) And I'm fairly happy with the essays, but I won't get my scores from them for a little while yet.

Last night I had a night terror, something which hasn't happened to me in a long time. I was overdue for one, with the amount of stress I've been under, and what with reading House of Leaves from time to time. But I'd been putting it off by only going to sleep when I was exhausted. Last night to get ready for the GRE I went to bed earlyish, and so about an hour into sleep I came nearly awake, pursued by a disturbing dream, to see a line of square flags covered in glyphs that can only be described as eldritch over my bed, illuminated in the slow dawn and fade of frozen lightning from the window behind my head. They flapped slowly in an absent indoor rainstorm. My blood pressure and heart rate slowly began to elevate, and I had time to realize I was about to become totally, irrationally, uncontrollably terrified and there was not a damn thing I could do to stop it. The rational portion of my mind tried nonetheless to get a firm grip on the rest, but there was nothing to be done, and my terror crescendoed until I could physically and actually feel my heart thundering, shaking my entire body as if to tear my chest open and explode through every artery in my body, even the veins bursting though of course the pressure would be significantly reduced there, and I had to stop this now or I was going to die. So of course I manifested an astral weapon. You know, like you do.
A battle axe? I thought. Not only is that so not me, but it only really helps if there's something you can chop astral limbs off of. So I transformed it into Excalibur, natch, and waved it around and bellowed. The terror receded and I promptly dropped back into full sleep.

There was something else I wanted to say, but it eludes me. If it loves me, it'll come back. Unless it still feels it needs space.

Until then, here's a new conversational trope that I've just made up:
"X is gonna kill Y twice in a murder-suicide pact."
This obvious hyperbole expresses the belief that X is or is about to be so angry at Y that they will lose all good sense and kill Y, then go back and do it again, and this time make it look like a suicide. The proper response runs something like:
"Forged note found on the body: Dear World, I feel so terrible about killing myself last night. I am an evil, evil person. To punish myself for my horrible crime, I have decided to kill myself. I am a wicked, bad, self-murdering person who did horrible things to make my dear friend X so angry at me when they have only ever been loving and supportive, and are incidentally also a genius, and good looking, and so I deserve to die. Farewell forever. Love Y. PS: This is for the best."
This is quite a bad joke, and in blatant poor taste, and I therefore hope to inflict it on as many people as I can.

Tonight's post is just full of weirdness and bad taste, isn't it?

Oh, yeah. It came back. I went into a coffee shop earlier and was completely unsurprised to see a man cuddling a skunk while playing chess. This must say something about my life.



*and with whom you are in a completely consensual kink-positive relationship, of course