January 4, 2003
Life Still, er, Still Life
Sitting anxiously behind Mike, eyes darting from chess game to the company (Kasey, Katie, Mitch, Josh, and Angie) to my barren hands.
I pulled them inside the sleeves of his sweater. Angie and Katie could talk about rings all they liked. I don't wear any, they get in my way, I use my hands too much, my fingers are too ugly... I have many excuses. Either way. I don't need them.
Right?
Been thinking about this. Funny how easily your childhood can come and go, can reak havoc and slip silently away again.
Other girls make me nervous and shy. I like Angie and Katie, and yet I feel poignantly that, when I am in their company, I am never truly within it. I will never be enough like them. I'm too weird. I'm a girl and yet I deny it for the sake of sanity and to escape frivolity. I'm not down on girls. I suffer for my behaviors as well.
Mike is on his way now to pick me up to go out driving/necessity shopping/job applicationing. He knows of just one of those three plans.
As for Argosy. I don't need to be a non-person anymore. I need the money. I don't need it that bad.
So. Unemployment looming. You know me. Can't get stable. Can't get comfortable.
Somehow this was all so much more poetic and dramatic in my head. Especially that bit about pulling my hands inside of his sweater. I see the world in photographs, in movie stills, and sometimes mimic those actions without even thinking it.
I have an image of myself. I am alternately haunted and giddy, and aloof and warmed up, wanting him and shunning him. I'm wearing a red sweater and dark hair.
astera at 2:46 p.m.