(no subject)
Work was dead last night. I was on resort, except for from 6-8 when I was at cashwrap. There was hardly any resort, and so we got all the resort done by 11 and then we just had to straighten up. So we got out early. I ate at Fatburger again, and I was starving by my break, which was at 8. So I got my vanilla tea latte and a cupcake from cafe before getting my burger, and devoured the cupcake while I waited for the burger.
Today, I hung out with Joe finally, after putting him off for ages. Some days, I was legitimately too tired, but other days, I just wasn't ready for the meeting. I walked over to Ronnie's, and he drove over. We did the catch-up thing, and then went to Starbucks in Closter, where they were giving out free desserts. It was so odd hanging out with him. It was like nothing had changed, it was like everything had changed. I would talk a lot, and shut up, or he would, and there were a lot of awkward silences. I just didn't know how to relate to him any more. He's from an ancient chapter of my life, that I pulled out to re-read, and don't remember why it was so important. It was so odd, trying to catch up, trying to sum up two years of my life. Whenever someone I haven't talked to in a while asks me what's up, I always say "not much," no matter how much or little has happened in the intervening days, weeks, months. Trying to articulate two years of my life in a two hour conversation just seemed so impossible. It seemed nothing had happened in those two years, as if everything had. Things that seemed so important when they happened faded out of meaning. I so often give pat little response to questions, especially the kind of questions that get asked a lot. "So what are you going to do now that you graduated?" The answer comes out with a regularity that seems rehearsed. I know the right things to say, to make it seem like I'm reasonable, upbeat. Whatever I think sounds right for the situation. But I only have these answers for direct questions, and even as I'm replying, their truth fades and they seem like false lies. It's all part of the self-censoring, the way we project ourselves.
Jon's uncle just died, and he's upset, and I want to be there to comfort him, but I don't know what's appropriate now, and what just be me butting in where I don't belong. Between that and the distance, I have this horrible feeling of impotence.
Just found out Michael still hasn't handed in his term paper. Honestly, I don't know what's wrong with him. As for me being irresponsible, I completely forgot about my doctor's appointment this morning. Fuck. I'll have to call and reschedule. Tonight, I might be hanging out with Eric and Mike Tringali, possibly at Temptations in Nyack. We'll see. For now, I think I"m going to try imposing some order on my rather chaotic room. Peace out. Less than two weeks until Hell Month is over. (February is always the red month, because of V-Day and love, but red is also the color of blood, anger, and hell. Coincidence? I think not.)
Today, I hung out with Joe finally, after putting him off for ages. Some days, I was legitimately too tired, but other days, I just wasn't ready for the meeting. I walked over to Ronnie's, and he drove over. We did the catch-up thing, and then went to Starbucks in Closter, where they were giving out free desserts. It was so odd hanging out with him. It was like nothing had changed, it was like everything had changed. I would talk a lot, and shut up, or he would, and there were a lot of awkward silences. I just didn't know how to relate to him any more. He's from an ancient chapter of my life, that I pulled out to re-read, and don't remember why it was so important. It was so odd, trying to catch up, trying to sum up two years of my life. Whenever someone I haven't talked to in a while asks me what's up, I always say "not much," no matter how much or little has happened in the intervening days, weeks, months. Trying to articulate two years of my life in a two hour conversation just seemed so impossible. It seemed nothing had happened in those two years, as if everything had. Things that seemed so important when they happened faded out of meaning. I so often give pat little response to questions, especially the kind of questions that get asked a lot. "So what are you going to do now that you graduated?" The answer comes out with a regularity that seems rehearsed. I know the right things to say, to make it seem like I'm reasonable, upbeat. Whatever I think sounds right for the situation. But I only have these answers for direct questions, and even as I'm replying, their truth fades and they seem like false lies. It's all part of the self-censoring, the way we project ourselves.
Jon's uncle just died, and he's upset, and I want to be there to comfort him, but I don't know what's appropriate now, and what just be me butting in where I don't belong. Between that and the distance, I have this horrible feeling of impotence.
Just found out Michael still hasn't handed in his term paper. Honestly, I don't know what's wrong with him. As for me being irresponsible, I completely forgot about my doctor's appointment this morning. Fuck. I'll have to call and reschedule. Tonight, I might be hanging out with Eric and Mike Tringali, possibly at Temptations in Nyack. We'll see. For now, I think I"m going to try imposing some order on my rather chaotic room. Peace out. Less than two weeks until Hell Month is over. (February is always the red month, because of V-Day and love, but red is also the color of blood, anger, and hell. Coincidence? I think not.)