March 18, 2003
Stopping When
Tonight I can hear the rain pattering on the green between the dorms on East Quad. And it is green, if only slightly, nursed by the struggling March sunshine, the slow emergence of something like spring. Yesterday I wore a jean skirt and ankle socks and bade my pasty flesh bask in the glow of partly cloudy.
I've been reading a fair amount lately. In fact, upon arriving at Mike's house yesterday afternoon, he settled in at his computer to battle Windows once more and I curled up in his bed to polish off a chapter in The Nanny Diaries.
There is something delicious about that, if only perceived by me.
You know what I love? Sorority Life. I found myself watching about three hours of that show this past weekend, for no reason, totally outside of all reason. It almost makes me want to rush so I can wear sweat pants to one of the meetings and get my head bitten off. And then by some miraculous feat recieve a bid and then decline it so I can join the local gang instead. Because, honestly, if you have to choose between getting a large tatoo of Ghost Face Killah or investing in a lifetime supply of Bath and Body Work's 'Freesia', who wouldn't get the tatoo?
Yesterday Fred and Mike and I lingered at BW3's for entirely too long playing the CountDown trivia game. We finished fifth, and then second, and then eighth, much to our chagrin.
We spent most of the time being entertained/driven mad by the group of giggling/screaming girls behind us. When I say group I do not mean three or four. I mean, like, twenty-seven. Well, it felt like it. There were at least eight.
I decided, mid cheese-stick, that I was going to gauge out their eyes with my pen. They mightn't have noticed, they were quite drunk.
A festival of Children of Dune commenced when we returned to Mike's house, the three of us watching parts one and two in conjunction. I was mildly dissapointed, both in the Fremen having regular irises and Mike's insistence upon remarking on how hot Chani and Alia were. Generally, I push him and forgive him in the same instant, as he does this to aggravate me. Yesterday, this was not the case. The sweet chemistry between Paul and Chani onscreen brought tears to my eyes, and doubt a hundred fold thick ensued. Only later, huddled in his bed with the candles burning and Brandon Boyd crooning softly, could I be soothed.
He's confident in me, why this persistence in fleeting confidence with me? It's really quite frustrating.
I was truly settled by the warm light in his eyes, by our two hour conversation unfolding in the dark.
He told me he loved me and good night more than once. I didn't really mind.
O. New layout, too.
astera at 10:29 p.m.