SO WIRED. AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY.

[bedlamsbard]

I am so nervous right now. I just came back from AFROTC orientation, and I spent the entire time so wired that, well -- when I get nervous, I either talk way too much or go completely silent, and this time it was the latter. And it doesn't help that one of the other girls there was a freshman at Tulane whose entire family is career Air Force, and therefore she already knows everything AND talks a lot AND got everyone's phone number while I sat there trying to remember how to breathe. (And seriously, what's with all these people from Chicago? I know SO MANY people from Chicago. One of them once almost ran over Barack Obama before he became famous! Another girl I know went to Obama's high school in Hawaii!)

And now I need clothes I do not have and have no way to buy before Thursday, which is when I need them, so I'm going to end up wandering around my dorm and asking plaintively if anyone has khakis I can borrow, because I have black slacks, but I don't have khakis, and I don't have any shoes that go with my slacks except my heels, and I obviously cannot wear those to ROTC. Because all my shoes are BROWN. And one can obviously not wear brown shoes with black pants. I'm already borrowing my roommate's polo shirts; hopefully we're close enough in size that it should work. This is the sort of thing you tell someone BEFORE they come two thousand miles from home and to a city where it's, like, impossible to buy clothes near campus. (The shuttles only run on the weekend! Because Tulane wants us to, uh...I have no idea. Today we learned the thin line between drunk sex and date rape? It was a mandatory lecture? And now we have t-shirts that tell us how to take care of a friend that passes out drunkenly? SHOULD HAVE GONE TO WELLESLEY. God, why didn't I go to Wellesley?)

And classes start tomorrow, and I'm a nervous wreck right now for various reasons. Still wired post-AFROTC, terrified about the fact I have to, uh, start working out because, well, ROTC. As in MILITARY. And classes. Oh my God. Why am I at college? *terrified*

And I really want to write, because I haven't really done so in a while now and I want to, so badly it hurts, but the whole being wired doesn't help, and...I don't even know.

Somebody come be soothing at me?

Comments

[realpestilence.livejournal.com]

Breathe, sweetheart, BREATHE! You're gonna give *me* a heart attack by proxy and I'm too old for that shit. *hugs*

If you have to miss out on that first dressed-out class, would it be allowed? Or come wearing the wrong clothes? Surely they know about people's transportation difficulties. *frowns*

Why be terrified about working out? It's just exercise, and it's supervised, isn't it? They wouldn't just toss you out there to turn yourselves into hulking soldiers without *some* guidance.


You could always write me some Peter/Edmund smut, that's soothing. Well, for ME. *coughs*

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

I'm too young for that shit! *breathes*

*breathes some more* Maybe I can find someone to walk to Magazine Street with me? I know there are clothing stores there. And slacks are probably okay, but brown shoes. (And no, it wouldn't be okay. It's the military. They're strict about that sort of thing, and oh my God, if I had known this, I would have bought khakis back in Ellensburg. Everything I own is jeans.)

Um, because I'm me, and panicking is my stock in trade? I'm very good at it. And I don't work out. I am so out of shape and I haven't run in at least a month. And PT is running, and I'm so bad at it, and oh my God. *panics some more*

But I have problems with Peter/Edmund, because...well, I mentioned I'm paranoid, right? And it doesn't add up in my head, because my Edmund is straight except for those, uh, two times, the ritual and the time Peter got possessed, and I have problems writing Peter/Caspian, because he's in love with Narnia and my Peter and Caspian are pretty hostile, although I do want to write angry Peter/Caspian where Peter throws Caspian up against a wall and then, like, they make out or something, and I suppose I could write Peter/Peta, but the angst drowns me. Or Peter/immortal!Susan, although I want to build up to that via full-length fic rather than jump straight into Susan runs her hands down Peter's chest, an unspoken invitation, and cocks her head to one side, waiting for his answer. Or Caspian/Peta, although now that that's reached actual fic status I kind of hesitate to jump around now.

Okay, there's a point where I panic about everything.

At least I now have a working microfridge?

[realpestilence.livejournal.com]

Now, now. You can't have Susan/Peter if I can't have Peter/Edmund! And I don't really believe in Caspian/Peter, fun as it can be, because I *don't* believe in hate sex, y'know?

You amuse me. *snorts*


Well...your microfridge might break AGAIN and then you'd have nothing to drink at night when you're thirsty? Would you trust the tap water there? You'd have to get up and it might be dark and you could step on something and...not helping. *smothers laugh*


FINE! No smut. But I would be curious as to seeing those two discuss their situation-not just the needing to have or having had sex; but how it feels in their heads, when Narnia gets going; what they think about it all-do they feel taken advantage of by the people who got them into this, are they mad at Aslan for leaving them to cope with a weird situation, all kinds of things. The banter is fun as hell, but doesn't really enlighten us as to what they're thinking or feeling about Issues.

Just my luck, to get hold of a writer of your caliber who doesn't like my pairings! You and ineptshieldmaid, I swear. She likes at least some of my pairings but ah...not in the style I prefer...*sighs*

Oh, well. It could be worse. You could be writing pairings that actively repulse me or something. *laughs*

[mentalhygiene.livejournal.com]

Breathe. Plz.

Have you looked into the NOLA bus system? That might help you reach places of trouser. (good GOD their system maps are shite, though).

Or, do you know anyone with a car?

[ghostrunner7.livejournal.com]

Oh, Powers and Saints, sweetheart. Breathe. Take a breath and take a break. Put your head between your knees, have your roommate put her hand between your shoulder blades and push up against her hand for a minute or so. (It..., uh, forces you to breathe. And relax.)

Read something that makes you smile every time and is comfortable the way an old sweatshirt is. I like War for the Oaks by Emma Bull which I will gladly send you a .pdf of if you want, but whatever it is that works for you, go for it.

Maybe you should have gone to Wellesley. And you can do that if you need to. But I remember the way you talked about Tulane and being in the south and how excited you were about AFROTC. Give it some time.

I would say take a Xanax and have a cigarette, but it's possible you're a healthier person than I am. So... take a shower, maybe? A really long, really hot shower.

This, too, shall pass.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

I don't think they hate each other -- Peter saves his hate for more important things, and Caspian doesn't register as important to him. Which could, you know, screw him over -- and nearly did -- but, well.

I've been drinking the tap water, although if we don't evacuate I'm getting a Brita pitcher. (Oh my God, I can't believe I actually have to say the words "if we don't evacuate.")

...you want two guys to talk? *bemused* It'll be actions or nothing with those two.

It's not that I don't like your pairings! It's just that I keep trying to fit them into my established universe, and it's not working.