The Case of Regina's Unbidden Spectre
No matter what position I tried, I couldn't get comfortable. Partially, it was my own fault. Partially, Dixie was hogging all the covers. I was sleeping on an elevated bed in her room in Caflisch. We'd stayed up late the previous night, all-inclusive with a trip down to Country Fair around two in the morning, pretending to work, then she fell asleep while I read Wicked to her, though she was asleep after the first chapter. Caflisch not being the air-conditioned Tower splendor, it was hot. So, I stripped down to my skivvies, climbed up to the other bed, set my cell for morning, and went to sleep. But I couldn't get comfortable! No pillow, no blanket, I ended up just splaying myself and resting my cheek on my right forearm. Improvisation, thy name is Arthur.
The next morning, Dixie and I slept in past both of our cell phone alarms. It was Mindy who finally roused me, coming in to give Dixie the keys to her car. Sadly, I noted it was the first time all summer that a girl has seen me not fully clothed. More sadly, I was having sex with neither of the girls in the room. Damn. Double damn!
Dixie and I spent the morning packing and moving her from Caflisch up the hill to Allegheny Hall. While we moved, I thought about the night before. I was a little nervous. I'd gone to grab a few things from the Tower at one point and saw that Dr. Bluhm at emailed me. At midnight on a Sunday. I knew I liked her. She thought we were meeting Wednesday and Friday. I replied with my impression that we were meeting Monday and Wednesday. Two emails and multiple corrections later, we were agreed to meet on Tuesday and Thursday. But I didn't get those emails until later, Monday morning I was half-wondering if a pissed Ph.D was waiting for me in Carnegie.
Dixie's mom came to help her move and after we got the bulk of stuff up to Allegheny Hall, she took us out to lunch. I sincerely appreciated that - it gave me an excuse not to wash the mountains of dirty dishware in my sinks. Sinks plural. Put it off for another meal and maybe I'll skirt my way to Friday. Doubtful, but there's always a stray hope lingering somewhere.
After we got back, I returned to the Tower while Dixie and her mom handled the last load of moving. I desperately needed a shower. I took a long, hot one, relaxing, about to fall asleep. I didn't though. I waited until I was out of the shower, mostly dry, and sprawled in the cool refuge of my bedroom before doing that.
When I woke, I hustled myself up to the Campus Center to work on the GAP mailing and other assorted projects. Turns out the mailing would be another day. So I read to Dixie again. I like reading Wicked, it's about half the content, half hearing my own voice. Once done with that, we went to her place. While she worked on stalking the world through AIM, I stared out the window at the branches lolling in the wind. Where's Regina DiCarlo right now? I muted my internal dialogue long enough to wonder if I'm ever going to get over her. So much of who I am, who I'm trying to be, it's in unconscious response to the mandates she laid down almost seven years ago. Seven years.
Seven years..."Spinnin', laughin', dancin' to her favorite song. A little girl with nothing wrong is all alone."
It was seven years ago that Love first awoke in me longing, desperate need. I needed someone to love me in a way that my parent's couldn't, most people wouldn't, and someone like her shouldn't. Does she have any inclination to what she meant to me? Beyond the childish romanticism, there was the making of substance, what could have been love and probably is in some innocent sense. Does she even remember?
My wanderings down memory lane were putting me in a blue mood, so I took off and went back to the Tower. Later, Dixie IM'd me and we decided to make chicken nachos. It was the first time when I've been alone and had someone seek me out in a way that was genuine, not induced by my pitiful mewlings.
Man Ain't Supposed to Cry. Joe Williams. Fuck.
Dixie and I made chicken nachos and watched The Closer. I was incredibly thankful for her company, along with The Closer, it was enough to distract me from myself. After Laguna Beach, she left and I worked absent-mindedly on Dr. Bluhm stuff until I decided to go to sleep around midnight.
I woke early to finish up a few things before meeting with her. As I was watching The Practice, I noted she'd sent me an email telling me she'd be late. Little wiggle room for me. I got up there early and we spent a good two hours hammering out the last of the details for Thursday. I feel 200% more confident after that meeting for D.C. Up until now, I had abstract ideas and data, but not sure how it was all going to come together. Now I do. The one ominous warning she issued, as would any good presenter, is that we should both be ready to give the presentation solo - in case of the unforseeable. That's not going to be the case, thankfully, but it stirred me a bit.
I went back and made lunch, goofing my way through hamburgers. After which, I slept until three.
At three, I went over to the Campus Center to work on the mailing. I stuck around until about six working on it and it was still only half done. Guess I have another early morning in my future. Plus a day of student directory, Wingfest, Ben Folds concert, and Dr. Bluhm project. Whoopee!
Belated note, I found out on Monday that Ben Folds has accepted our bid and will be performing at Allegheny on November 3. And a special an event as it is, the GAP constitution recognizes that I'm in charge of it. Molly Lennon had better believe she is working with me on this. It was her idea (mostly). The silver lining that I see is that this is going to please many Alleghenians and put ASG and GAP in a good light...for once.
Dixie and I went to Seddig's house so she could water his plants and I could keep her company late on Monday night. I ended up lazing on his porch, a screened-in affair that reminded me of the porch at 711 Robinhood Road. Night insects droned in the darkness, singing their encrypted lullaby to the stars and dewy grasses, while I eavesdropped in the yellow cast of light. It felt unusually serene and I thought I could stay on that porch forever. A fleeting fantasy - me lounging on such a porch, while Regina reads in an opposite corner. I look at her, she looks up and smiles her smile and for a moment, it's something like love. The dream is worse than love, gore od ljubavi, in that it's not going to happen. Not with her, and not with anyone else at my current state.
I've decided the reason that my heart hasn't found me is because I'm not who I'm supposed to be. She can't find me and vice versa because I'm in the wrong skin, wrong form - too much is wrong and continues to cloud her as she searches...for who and what...neither of us are truly conscious.
Something in the way, always another obstacle, another hurdle, another hoop. I need time. Time for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. And unverse. And verse again. I can't wait for Friday. Dixie may be my best-friend away from my best-friend, but there is no substitution for she who is my conscience, my soul. I'm coming, Maritza, just a few more days...
The next morning, Dixie and I slept in past both of our cell phone alarms. It was Mindy who finally roused me, coming in to give Dixie the keys to her car. Sadly, I noted it was the first time all summer that a girl has seen me not fully clothed. More sadly, I was having sex with neither of the girls in the room. Damn. Double damn!
Dixie and I spent the morning packing and moving her from Caflisch up the hill to Allegheny Hall. While we moved, I thought about the night before. I was a little nervous. I'd gone to grab a few things from the Tower at one point and saw that Dr. Bluhm at emailed me. At midnight on a Sunday. I knew I liked her. She thought we were meeting Wednesday and Friday. I replied with my impression that we were meeting Monday and Wednesday. Two emails and multiple corrections later, we were agreed to meet on Tuesday and Thursday. But I didn't get those emails until later, Monday morning I was half-wondering if a pissed Ph.D was waiting for me in Carnegie.
Dixie's mom came to help her move and after we got the bulk of stuff up to Allegheny Hall, she took us out to lunch. I sincerely appreciated that - it gave me an excuse not to wash the mountains of dirty dishware in my sinks. Sinks plural. Put it off for another meal and maybe I'll skirt my way to Friday. Doubtful, but there's always a stray hope lingering somewhere.
After we got back, I returned to the Tower while Dixie and her mom handled the last load of moving. I desperately needed a shower. I took a long, hot one, relaxing, about to fall asleep. I didn't though. I waited until I was out of the shower, mostly dry, and sprawled in the cool refuge of my bedroom before doing that.
When I woke, I hustled myself up to the Campus Center to work on the GAP mailing and other assorted projects. Turns out the mailing would be another day. So I read to Dixie again. I like reading Wicked, it's about half the content, half hearing my own voice. Once done with that, we went to her place. While she worked on stalking the world through AIM, I stared out the window at the branches lolling in the wind. Where's Regina DiCarlo right now? I muted my internal dialogue long enough to wonder if I'm ever going to get over her. So much of who I am, who I'm trying to be, it's in unconscious response to the mandates she laid down almost seven years ago. Seven years.
Seven years..."Spinnin', laughin', dancin' to her favorite song. A little girl with nothing wrong is all alone."
It was seven years ago that Love first awoke in me longing, desperate need. I needed someone to love me in a way that my parent's couldn't, most people wouldn't, and someone like her shouldn't. Does she have any inclination to what she meant to me? Beyond the childish romanticism, there was the making of substance, what could have been love and probably is in some innocent sense. Does she even remember?
My wanderings down memory lane were putting me in a blue mood, so I took off and went back to the Tower. Later, Dixie IM'd me and we decided to make chicken nachos. It was the first time when I've been alone and had someone seek me out in a way that was genuine, not induced by my pitiful mewlings.
Man Ain't Supposed to Cry. Joe Williams. Fuck.
Dixie and I made chicken nachos and watched The Closer. I was incredibly thankful for her company, along with The Closer, it was enough to distract me from myself. After Laguna Beach, she left and I worked absent-mindedly on Dr. Bluhm stuff until I decided to go to sleep around midnight.
I woke early to finish up a few things before meeting with her. As I was watching The Practice, I noted she'd sent me an email telling me she'd be late. Little wiggle room for me. I got up there early and we spent a good two hours hammering out the last of the details for Thursday. I feel 200% more confident after that meeting for D.C. Up until now, I had abstract ideas and data, but not sure how it was all going to come together. Now I do. The one ominous warning she issued, as would any good presenter, is that we should both be ready to give the presentation solo - in case of the unforseeable. That's not going to be the case, thankfully, but it stirred me a bit.
I went back and made lunch, goofing my way through hamburgers. After which, I slept until three.
At three, I went over to the Campus Center to work on the mailing. I stuck around until about six working on it and it was still only half done. Guess I have another early morning in my future. Plus a day of student directory, Wingfest, Ben Folds concert, and Dr. Bluhm project. Whoopee!
Belated note, I found out on Monday that Ben Folds has accepted our bid and will be performing at Allegheny on November 3. And a special an event as it is, the GAP constitution recognizes that I'm in charge of it. Molly Lennon had better believe she is working with me on this. It was her idea (mostly). The silver lining that I see is that this is going to please many Alleghenians and put ASG and GAP in a good light...for once.
Dixie and I went to Seddig's house so she could water his plants and I could keep her company late on Monday night. I ended up lazing on his porch, a screened-in affair that reminded me of the porch at 711 Robinhood Road. Night insects droned in the darkness, singing their encrypted lullaby to the stars and dewy grasses, while I eavesdropped in the yellow cast of light. It felt unusually serene and I thought I could stay on that porch forever. A fleeting fantasy - me lounging on such a porch, while Regina reads in an opposite corner. I look at her, she looks up and smiles her smile and for a moment, it's something like love. The dream is worse than love, gore od ljubavi, in that it's not going to happen. Not with her, and not with anyone else at my current state.
I've decided the reason that my heart hasn't found me is because I'm not who I'm supposed to be. She can't find me and vice versa because I'm in the wrong skin, wrong form - too much is wrong and continues to cloud her as she searches...for who and what...neither of us are truly conscious.
Something in the way, always another obstacle, another hurdle, another hoop. I need time. Time for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. And unverse. And verse again. I can't wait for Friday. Dixie may be my best-friend away from my best-friend, but there is no substitution for she who is my conscience, my soul. I'm coming, Maritza, just a few more days...