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I took an extremely long, extremely hot shower after waiting in line in the cold in the middle of the night for half an hour for a taxi. Afterwards, I picked at my nails, which had split from the sudden heat of the water, and wrote in the journal in my brain.

I crossed paths with Kara on the way from the taxi to my apartment and she bombarded me with questions about my "date." She asked the standard, "Did you get any?" and I responded politically, "Things are moving slowly." Which is an understatement.

Stalagmites form and fade in the seasons of my love. Which would be lovely and poetic if this were love and I were a poet.

It was an old sensation, my fingers and toes so cold I couldn't tell if the hot water was boiling or freezing. I remember talking in kindergarten with another kid about that odd state, not knowing the temperature of something, only understanding the same burning.

I looked terrible and tired in the bright mirror, like someone in the corner of a bar hoping the dim light will hide the lines of fatigue. I took off my clothes and let my hair go wild as I walked about my freezing apartment. I had been standing outside in the cold so long, being naked in the frozen air didn't phase me. I was annoyed. Unbound, my hair following me on an intangible breeze, I looked fierce and dark and beautiful.

I radiate when I'm angry. I go supernova when I'm angry at myself.

Take me home and unwrap me and be shocked at the untamed creature beneath the dull brown paper. Get your lip bitten. Act now while I'm pissed, before I cool down and revert to that untouchable docile domesticate. I am fire. I really am. I've always known that, but I never really noticed before now how I move in these waves of flame and famine. I stagnate without wind in my sails. (How many times have I used "stagnate" to refer to the "tragedy" of my current state?) I need something to feed the fire, but I keep grasping at nothing.

I know exactly what the problem is. I figured it out while chipping away at my fingernails. It's not that I've never dealt with shy guys before--if anything, I've dealt with nothing but shy guys. And it's not really a matter of self-confidence. That's never had much to do with it. You just feel the rush of letting everything go and putting yourself out there and if it works, it works, and if it doesn't, you still caught the thrill and the rest doesn't matter anymore. So what's my problem? It's the conversation we had last month before I left, before our last December date. I have no idea where I stand in this, what he feels or thinks...I don't even really know him. And I think that's part of the problem.

How can I let go if it isn't a sure thing?

Which is completely tongue-in-cheek, and yet it isn't. With other guys, we've been friends for so long, throwing myself out there didn't matter because we'd still be friends afterwards. I keep playing his words over in my head and they just don't make sense. It's partially a language-barrier thing, partially a personality thing, partially a 'I am a fuck-tard' thing.

That's the only thing I said to myself once I got home: "Why are you such a fuck-tard?!" End of discussion.

[Continued 1/30]

The lines of things get blurry and I don't know where one thing ends and another begins. I see how the brain categorizes things in an attempt to see them. The irony is of course that if you do so, you can't see anything. You can't see the drawing if you're focused on the lines.

But I don't have the luxury of time that I've been afforded in the past.

[This may be muddled and vague to you, but it makes clear sense to me, which is enough.]

My last relationship had no clear beginning (and no clear end, consequently), which was perfect. That's the way it was supposed to be. We half-celebrated approximately where we thought our "anniversary" might be, but only in high school, under the pressure from others to do so. And that's the way things are developing with Shinya. But he's leaving for Tokyo in little more than a month, and I'm leaving the country in little more than half a year.

I wrote a scary clingy-girlfriend text message yesterday, but I came to my senses before sending it to him. Who wrote that? What strange creature sat alone in the dark and tried forcing our hands in her broken Japanese? Lord, it cannot have been me. I really don't know what possessed me. I guess I was just still aggravated. But the fact that I even wove those words together is disturbing. I am relaxed. I am independent. I live for more than purpose or convention or order. I am changing. I am becoming a better person. I am not frightening closed mental dark loneliness girl. I am stained wings firestorm opportunity brilliance woman.

But, oh, I could have done someone so much good last night. I just felt like making love. Not necessarily having sex, just making love. Taking a naive boy into the woods and making him as much a part of nature as I myself am in my mind.

I think about other people thinking about me thinking and there is so much that gets lost in the space between people. I hate that. I hate that my body is a barrier. Not to say that I don't like my body, that I don't enjoy my body as much as I can. Not to say I don't smell good and bad things with equal interest, that I don't try things I do and don't like, that I don't do my best to absorb all of this and transform it inside me. But I have always wished I could switch minds with other people, just to get a different perspective on things. I used to dream in class in elementary school about riding around behind someone else's eyes.

I am less loyal than I used to be. I'm losing my grip on the concept of absolutes. The older I get, the less I believe and the more I know.

-----

This was by far our best "date." There was hardly a moment of quiet between us. In spite of being so tired (we went out after another of my fabulous 11-hour days), there were only a few minutes of silence as we stuffed our faces with Mexican food. I felt like we had only been out for an hour and a half; my internal clock was off by 3 hours. He showed me his pictures of Botswana; I showed him my drawings. We ordered so much food, the waiter had to drag an extra table over to ours to handle the overflow. I showed Shinya the right way to eat fajitas, and we laughed at the mess we were making. We drank Dos Equis and Shinya commented on the bubbles. Stand By Me was playing behind the bar and I made Shinya watch the part about the story of the fat kid's revenge. I guess it was a lot funnier to me than it was to him. I was so excited about finally getting to have Mexican food after waiting for half a year, I couldn't sit still. We were turned away at the door, but the waiter took Shinya's cellphone number, and we talked at a nearby cafe until the restaurant called. I had black coffee; Shinya had hot cocoa.

[Continued 2/3]

I gave him the omiyage ("basically a souvenir that in some way is representative of the traits that location is famous for") I had promised him; Goo-Goo Bars were the only Nashville-esque souvenir I could think of that wasn't in the shape of a guitar. He wanted to dig right in, but he decided the people running the cafe wouldn't be too pleased.

[Continued 2/4]

Funny: I wanted to go out with him this weekend, but he told me he had to go to Tokyo--something about his new job. The horrible details of this crappy day will have to wait for another entry, but I got to work [over an hour late] and saw that there was a message on my phone. I figured it was from Masa, trying to figure out where the hell I was, but I was happily surprised to find that it was actually from Shinya. He ended up not having to go to Tokyo after all, and he wanted to know if I was free tonight.

He actually initiated our getting together tonight = good sign.

The rational part of my mind scrolls through the thoughts and feelings in this entry and knows that my history foretells feelings of frustration for when I get back home tonight. But the wise part of my brain knows that anticipating frustration is meaningless, and so I go out with high hopes and a smile. I choose to be happy and blind because I am wiser than I am smart.

(And I'm pretty damn smart.) ^_^

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
lalenalefay
Feb. 4th, 2005 12:54 pm (UTC)
that was beautiful
alexakaruda
Feb. 4th, 2005 07:40 pm (UTC)
Thank you. That means a lot to me, hearing it from you.

Miss you lots and hope you're doing well.
(Anonymous)
Feb. 5th, 2005 07:50 am (UTC)
Why can't guys just say...
hey let's go out to Gamers to see some anime or something?!
---
piyo
alexakaruda
Feb. 5th, 2005 09:31 am (UTC)
Re: Why can't guys just say...
って事は...
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )

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