A Public Apology to My SF: I Am Still Starry-Eyed for You. Regardless.

Dear SF, you'll have to excuse my recent and unexpected retardation over the passed 2 days, and sporadic days before that, for that matter. You'll have to understand that waking up an exhausted girl at 11:30 PM to go to the midnight screening of Kick Ass had its risks (especially if she's never heard of the thing till the trailer). I don't want to be a zombie around you, so I apologize for the lack of organic romance I've hindered.

I promise you cause a little hot lamp to turn on in me whenever I'm around you, you really do. In fact, I hate it when reality sinks in, what with our separate schedules we try to sync together as comfortably as possible, or even when it's not that comfortable for that matter.

You can be quite nerdy, which is fair since you very gentlemanly warned me time and time again, as if allowing me to prepare for certain spontaneities in the future. Hence the heightened enthusiasm for Kick Ass (which is so appropriate considering its amazingness) and the sad fact that you won't be able to see Mel Brooks at a film festival next week, to which I indifferently replied, "You'll live." You'll have to remember I had just walked about 20 blocks around Hollywood and Rodeo Drive (climbing trees in Beverly Hills, I might add, and chasing Jay Leno's car a whole block down the street screaming at him) with friends and was utterly pooped. No energy for matched enthusiasm whatsoever.

I'm sorry I get scared of Supernatural so easily and every other scary movie you're into and make you turn it off, I really am. I wish I didn't, but I'm not careless enough to not get scared.

And then I'm sorry for the days that have no explanation, when I'm merely stuck in a quicksand of moodiness with no way out but a few hours of distraction (meaning doing whatever the fuck I feel like doing).

This is my consent for you to not change anything about you, and thank you for putting up with me (since you thanked me for putting up with you, which is not as hard as you might think with those green eyes of yours).