I get on the phone with my aunt this afternoon where she tells me that she finally showed her boyfriend my site for the first time.
“Shoot, I’ve haven’t done anything with that in a week or so,” I mumble.
“Ja, da war nicht viel los,” she said dryly.
It’s true; there hasn’t been a lot going on here. I’ve seen the light at the end of the grad school tunnel, but it’s that light that I’m shielding my eyes from instead of typing. I’ve been spending the last two weeks working on this beast of a reflective portfolio, dissecting what it all Means, and how you Feel, and how you can Connect between Theory and Reality. And I’m Getting Tired Of The Importance Of It All. So, the thought of coming here to give out more slices of my life in my life would have probably drowned me mentally.
In addition, I’ve had an influx of hormones the last week, reaching a crescendo late Friday night and petering out on Sunday morning. I felt as if I were stumbling around in a thick fog, head rearing backward, clutching my heart with one hand, waving my other arm into damp air and accumulating liquid in my lungs which made every breath rattle.
This, translated into reality, meant that I sit listlessly on the couch staring at the television. But if we ever actually did get preciptiation here, I’d be first in line for such a dramatic enacting of that imagery.
It also doesn’t help to be be cavorting around with an ex and lingering under hormone-inspired delusions because, yes, being friends, I can do that – friends. It seemed so…innocuous. Until I realize I have to fixate my eyes to the ground lest I remember that I had worn the shirt he was wearing.
I asked him simply not to introduce me to his new girlfriends and him assuring me I had nothing to worry about. This tends to have the opposite effect.
Now…when it comes to you…and us..I have a few unanswered questions. So, before this tale of bloody revenge reaches its climax, I’m gonna ask you some questions, and I want you to tell me the truth. However, therein lies a dilemma. Because when it comes to the subject of me, I believe you are truly and utterly incapable of telling the truth. Especially to me. And least of all, to yourself. And when it comes to the subject of me, I am truly and utterly incapable of believing anything you say. How do you suppose we solve this dilemma?
-Bill, from Kill Bill Vol. 2
It’ll be R that may read this and when I come to work, shake her head slowly and sigh with a slight hint of a drawl, “Not aaagain. You know can do better.” She might even drop a line about getting on the horn to find me a man and I think that’s when I’m to know that she’s being Serious about The Situation.