Saturday night (or more accurately, Sunday morning) has been a constant fixture in my mind. I can’t get it off my mind. I was trying so hard to focus on Jean Toomer and Ernest Hemingway today in American Lit, but it just wasn’t working.
Speaking of American Lit, there was a girl sitting behind me who kept kicking my chair (unintentionally, I imagine, as she shifted her legs). I turned around after about 20 minutes of enduring the disturbance, smiled, and very politely asked her to please stop kicking the back of my chair, thank you. Her face was already less than flattering in terms of appearance. The look she gave me made it immeasurably worse.
The faces of Sylvia and Eli today in HIST173 were comparable. Perhaps it’s the sense of ascendancy that they fear, or a late assertion of prominence and place. Perhaps it was sheer annoyance. Regardless, the observation of such misplaced anger struck me as hilarious, especially coming from the former. Disrespect. The power-player type has never been appealing to me. The narcissism and lack of concern for others bothers me.
I don’t understand how anyone can look so unhappy, so angry, when the weather is so beautiful. I was smiling all day today, nonstop. 75º and sunny: what more could one ask for? (I’m reluctant to make that sentence grammatically correct for fear of it sounding too pretentious.)
I’m really good at reading faces. I think I make too much eye contact with people. Hold the door for the person behind you. Please?
I can’t yet compact the story of my life into two paragraphs. Toomer did it. Cather could do it. I want to be able to. A crush of work is coming soon. 18 days until summer. Seven days until classes end. I wish my feelings were reciprocated. I wish I could express them. I wish they were even relevant at this point. I wish I hadn’t read that before going to bed on Sunday morning. Stinging sensation. Stung.
Friendships in flux, and how to reconcile my expectations with what I receive? I don’t know. Connections, and maya, and the substantive fluid that links us. Is it real? Do I exist outside of my individual body? I think so (sometimes). Thoughts and feelings can permeate the skin and influence others. I believe. Touch, especially. I believe. Believe me. I want to impart that request to you. Come close, more than close enough.
I have to wake up in 2.25 hours to attend Catholic Mass.
