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 |  My first ever Writing.com journal. |
| tomorrow might be a good day to wear a skirt, possibly the last one of the year. and to think, two weeks ago i was thinking it might snow. atlanta weather is so stupid. at least the trick-or-treaters got what i'd imagine they wanted, a warm autumn night, crisp smells but no ridiculous breezes, freedom to show off their costumes sans heavy-duty coatage. because that was the worst, as i remember, negotiating with my parents as to how best to respond to the falling temperatures, and losing every time. i got cheated out of my last halloween. october thirty-first, 1995, i got caught forging my parents' signatures on homework notes, if you can believe it. a transgression so hugely prevalent in my fifth grade class, i really thought nothing of it. everyone forgot to do their homework sometimes, and we were a class of necessarily bright kids, so it wasn't long before someone came up with the idea. bright, but not terribly worldly. i got caught my second time around, because i used pencil, erased my first try and left a noticeable smudge. ms. newman had caught dozens of us in the act, but she was particularly bitchy with me, dragged me out in front of everybody (by the arm!) and yelled in my face, spit flying everywhere, about how she was going to watch me sooooooo closely from that point onward. budding criminal that i was. deathly bad luck, that it was halloween, because my parents probably wouldn't have punished me, being more the lecturing type, but the punishment was so obvious. chad gloated like a maniac, but gave me half his candy, afterward. today, everyone in our dorm got little treat bags. candy, mostly, and a rolled-up list of "101 ways to show you love somebody (without having sex)," and then, laughably, a short chain of durex condoms. besides the candy, this is an obvious bastardization of an otherwise fantastic holiday. i really wanted to hold a grudge, today, and not show any sort of kindness to either of the two people who pissed me off yesterday. i succeeded with one and failed miserably with the other. i'm really disappointed in the disintegration of my grudge-holding capabilities. i blame strange, who was perfect today in class, where the exercise was this stupid drama thing (to prepare us for our original one-act plays, due next week, gag), pretty humiliating but good for shaking off the shitty morning. after that came the phone calls, one from one pisser-offer, one to the other, and the latter worked out. those things are impossible to maintain on a small campus, anyway. such an incredible lot of commas. comma comma comma comma comma, chameleon. there hasn't been anything really bad about today, besides that which we expected anyway, and yet i think i might cry a little bit. covertly. can't produce any sound, because it's just awkward, now, what a hard time melony and i have dealing with each other's real-life feelings. there is no end to our silliness, and i give each of her angry rants the rapt attention it deserves, but if a single tear hits my keyboard, she is ridiculously quick to turn al jarreau up to maximum volume. that's the situation we have right now, right this second, which she'd say is because she's got class at eight, but she never goes anyway, just swats at her alarm and sleeps on as i run off to work. i bring home the proverbial bacon, all ten hourly dollars of it, and she complains endlessly about the state of things, mess-wise. she's only here till december but i think i'll be filing for divorce before that. and then, after my roommate stole my pencil, his royal highness called to cancel again, surprise surprise. he got roped into another evening of dorm visits, followed immediately by last-minute work on a political science paper due tomorrow morning. he's sorry. he understands (sort of) why this is upsetting. he recognizes that i am, at this point, horribly frustrated, flexing patience that is mainly worn thin, trying desperately not to assign this pattern more than its due significance. he wants me to recognize, in turn, that he's trying harder every day, missing me as much as i miss him, developing an ever-keener appreciation for our halted routines. horseshit, i say, or said, rather; precisely that unladylike word; firmly but sweetly, infused with nuance. slower, less sweetly: horse. shit. couldn't elaborate beyond that, for the obvious reasons (dorm visits, political science paper), but my point was made, and i hung up on stunned silence. i waited twenty seconds, first, because i don't make a habit of hanging up on people; i think it's rude and disrespectful and a crappy alternative to working things out. he called back. we'll talk later, probably once i've been asleep for four hours and am deeply engrossed in a dream about babies. not a problem; that's routine, it's regular. sigh. i was wrong, that time. i was the bitch. doesn't really matter that it was an accident, or the result of tremendous cumulative frustration. i set my own standards in this relationship, i don't follow his lead. my behavior can't reflect his; it has to stand alone: constant, loving, warm. i don't even like to curse at him. don't have a problem dropping the occasional (or frequent) expletive on any other subject, but i shouldn't have dismissed his personal truths as horseshit. even if that word did find its way into my vocabulary via his. i'm tired of this. till tomorrow. |
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