Kicking myself
So now comes that blog moment where I decide what to divulge. As much as I can appreciate my own total honesty at a later date, there are certain readers that I am loathe to... ahem... upset. Take that as you will. But for the sake of my own integrity, I have been trying to keep this a little tamer/PG than onemoreyear. Out the window then, go, fly! This will be honest, because I am angry with myself, and nothing is better than a little honesty.
So. Hmmm. I could talk about Friday, but really, after practice nearly killed me I came home and slept, Friday was spent deep in academics with little to show for it, and Friday night was more-or-less disappointing on many fronts, but still decent, nothing to report. The best to come out of it was some pleasant conversation, and that is usually the best thing anyways. AH, old Death Cab, nice. Anyways, back on track, Saturday was spent, slightly more successfully, in the library.
Saturday night. Well, let me first say that I may have finally tracked down that elusive male friend, all it takes is a complex coincidence of systems, as Noel might say, a complex ven-diagrammatic moment in space and time where circumstances slot into the centre once in a hundred times. Sweet.
So yes, yes yes yes, Saturday night. Last night. Today, with delicious Sunday Roast in my tummy and rain falling outside, its hard to believe that it was so warm yesterday night that we abandoned our sweaters soon after we set out. Bop-hopping for the evening. The kicking part comes later, much later, after our third attempt ended in crowds and a vengeful bartender, leading to what must have been the fastest, strongest drink ever. That was the tipping one, from pleasant to out of control. Terrible. See me shaking my virtual fist in his general direction. Out over the spires and winding waterways, somewhere in the heart of that old college, behind stones and closed dark wooden doors, he will sense this, and lift his head, and perhaps next time not be so silly. A girl can dream.
So my doppelganger invited us to a fourth, and we traipsed the short distance. I had my phone in my pocket, rather than in Nil's bag, and this was the first mistake of the night, a sign that I should have known that trouble was brewing. Down down into the dungeon, we blinked, looked around, no phone. Suddenly she hugs him, out of nowhere, and it is Found, back into her purse. And here I am fuzzy, but the reconstruction is the following: eyes, dancing, kissing. Intellectually I know that they would not have let me do anything stupid (read: let me kiss someone unattractive), but in the moment I was convinced that this was a bad idea, and decided that it was time to go. I can get strange ideas when I am drinking. This was the second mistake I made, proximate to the third which was not getting his name or phone number. Actually, I am sure I did get his name, but it has escaped me. Hopefully he knows mine. Not that it would help. Sigh. Fourth Mistake was not staying with my doppelganger when she arrived, she is lovely and I would have liked to stay. Sigh indeed. After dropping the offending telephone several more times in the courtyard, we wound our way to sweet sweet kebab van goodness, then home far too early.
Ben Harper, Elliott Smith, it is this kind of day so far. Sad songs. Sad day. I am lonely, for the first time here, missing that closeness of someone who I can just let it all go with. I miss Jordan, miss Anj, miss those people who know me so well, that I can forgo the thin veneer of these Oxford instances, the one that keeps good me on, all the time. It hasn't been very difficult, until now, the first time I have felt an absence like this. Wistful, lonely, tired, so so tired. I miss not watching my words, never holding my tongue, saying exactly what I think. I miss close friends that you can only make over years. But mostly I miss hugging someone for real, when I don't have to worry about letting go, or holding too long. Right now I would do anything for a long, heavy hug. And now I have to lift up again, put it all back together, and go back out there.
So. Hmmm. I could talk about Friday, but really, after practice nearly killed me I came home and slept, Friday was spent deep in academics with little to show for it, and Friday night was more-or-less disappointing on many fronts, but still decent, nothing to report. The best to come out of it was some pleasant conversation, and that is usually the best thing anyways. AH, old Death Cab, nice. Anyways, back on track, Saturday was spent, slightly more successfully, in the library.
Saturday night. Well, let me first say that I may have finally tracked down that elusive male friend, all it takes is a complex coincidence of systems, as Noel might say, a complex ven-diagrammatic moment in space and time where circumstances slot into the centre once in a hundred times. Sweet.
So yes, yes yes yes, Saturday night. Last night. Today, with delicious Sunday Roast in my tummy and rain falling outside, its hard to believe that it was so warm yesterday night that we abandoned our sweaters soon after we set out. Bop-hopping for the evening. The kicking part comes later, much later, after our third attempt ended in crowds and a vengeful bartender, leading to what must have been the fastest, strongest drink ever. That was the tipping one, from pleasant to out of control. Terrible. See me shaking my virtual fist in his general direction. Out over the spires and winding waterways, somewhere in the heart of that old college, behind stones and closed dark wooden doors, he will sense this, and lift his head, and perhaps next time not be so silly. A girl can dream.
So my doppelganger invited us to a fourth, and we traipsed the short distance. I had my phone in my pocket, rather than in Nil's bag, and this was the first mistake of the night, a sign that I should have known that trouble was brewing. Down down into the dungeon, we blinked, looked around, no phone. Suddenly she hugs him, out of nowhere, and it is Found, back into her purse. And here I am fuzzy, but the reconstruction is the following: eyes, dancing, kissing. Intellectually I know that they would not have let me do anything stupid (read: let me kiss someone unattractive), but in the moment I was convinced that this was a bad idea, and decided that it was time to go. I can get strange ideas when I am drinking. This was the second mistake I made, proximate to the third which was not getting his name or phone number. Actually, I am sure I did get his name, but it has escaped me. Hopefully he knows mine. Not that it would help. Sigh. Fourth Mistake was not staying with my doppelganger when she arrived, she is lovely and I would have liked to stay. Sigh indeed. After dropping the offending telephone several more times in the courtyard, we wound our way to sweet sweet kebab van goodness, then home far too early.
Ben Harper, Elliott Smith, it is this kind of day so far. Sad songs. Sad day. I am lonely, for the first time here, missing that closeness of someone who I can just let it all go with. I miss Jordan, miss Anj, miss those people who know me so well, that I can forgo the thin veneer of these Oxford instances, the one that keeps good me on, all the time. It hasn't been very difficult, until now, the first time I have felt an absence like this. Wistful, lonely, tired, so so tired. I miss not watching my words, never holding my tongue, saying exactly what I think. I miss close friends that you can only make over years. But mostly I miss hugging someone for real, when I don't have to worry about letting go, or holding too long. Right now I would do anything for a long, heavy hug. And now I have to lift up again, put it all back together, and go back out there.
posted by Care | 1:45 PM
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