A long-ass entry. Sorry.
So, I think I pretty much aced the Spanish final. The substitute was a male grad student who natively spoke Spanish, and much like any native speaker who isn't trained to teach their language to others, he mumbled/slurred like hell. The parts of the exam based on comprehension are the only parts I felt uneasy about, thanks to his leisurely amble through some random snippets of dialogue I figure I got a middling A; with my grades through the rest of the semester, I believe I'll eke out another 4.0. I'm not ready to have a less-than-perfect GPA yet.
Tony and I headed out to the usual blah danceclub last night. The DJ did fairly well, though, even his hip-hop sets were fairly energetic, so I was able to dance. I had a preposterous number of guys mocking me last night, but since they stayed out of the way for the most part, I didn't mind terribly.
After half an hour or so of dancing, a girl came up and asked "How are you doing that?" "Doing what?" "The way you dance! How do you do that?" I had zero idea how to reply; I just do little raver-kid things. She waved her friends over, and she danced with me, while her friends hopped around. The guys who had mocked me surrounded us, and several began openly belittling me. We chuckled over the fact that none of the guys yet would dance- I might be a horrible dancer, but at least I was having fun, that kind of thing.
The time spent with that girl was awkward in so many ways, though. I can't dance with people, and she kept trying to get me to put my arm around her or whatever. She was a very attractive girl, but I really couldn't muster any enthusiasm for the situation. Part was just superficial- she was the stereotypical blue-eyed-blonde cheerleader-type, and no one in her group seemed to be a misfit in the slightest. Frankly, I was confused as to why I warranted her attention. Part was timing; stress at work and school meant that I just wanted to release energy on the dancefloor. Most of it was my personality; I don't really flirt, I feel uncomfortable with the meatmarket atmosphere of dance clubs, and I frankly felt put on the spot. I might be somewhat intelligent, but I lack a quick wit, and have nothing to say to people with whom I have yet to become comfortable.
After a while, the girl's friends dragged her away, and it was a bit obvious that I'd hurt her feelings by not really reciprocating the attention. A shame, really.
A few other stupid incidents happened, nothing terribly of note. Threatened outside by a random passer-by who thought I was ogling his girlfriend, when I was geekily checking out the imported sodas at the gyro shack... girls or soda? Soda.
Napped for a bit when I got home, then spent a few hours tossing and turning, bitten by l'esprit d'escalier over the danceclub thing, replaying thrown away chances over the last few years...
...over the years I've built up a defense mechanism, not really showing interest in people, not risking my pride to ask someone out or flirt with someone, always relying on whomever I fancy to magically decide to pursue me, instead. Then it happens, and I panic and run away, somehow completely misinterpret the situation and raze the possibilities for love or romance to the ground, or am so trepidatious that I'm simply dropped in favor of someone more alive.
I miss love, I miss being loved, and I miss loving someone. But, I don't trust love anymore, I don't trust how I feel, and I don't trust the motivations of others.
Kali did a journal entry the other day about true love, and the pain that it causes when it fades/dies. The cynic in me isn't so sure that the initial blossom of all-consuming passion is love so much as incredibly deep lust, but whatever that feeling is, I've had it once. That feeling was the most incredible feeling I have ever had in my life, and it lasted for days, weeks, months. The greatest possible natural high, an intoxicant that made me smarter, sharper, wittier, better-looking, everything. Nothing I have ever done in life can compare to how I felt then. Yet, the pain at the end of that relationship outweighed the initial rush, and I never want to experience it again. Love or lust, I wish I could experience it without the heartbreak, but since I can't get a guarantee, I just don't risk it any more.
It makes me wonder why I still keep courting crushes, still look to catch the eye of assorted cutie-pie women, when I know that my brain will step in at some point and shut it all down. It's hard to not feel broken, and it's hard to convince myself that things will ever change.
So, I think I pretty much aced the Spanish final. The substitute was a male grad student who natively spoke Spanish, and much like any native speaker who isn't trained to teach their language to others, he mumbled/slurred like hell. The parts of the exam based on comprehension are the only parts I felt uneasy about, thanks to his leisurely amble through some random snippets of dialogue I figure I got a middling A; with my grades through the rest of the semester, I believe I'll eke out another 4.0. I'm not ready to have a less-than-perfect GPA yet.
Tony and I headed out to the usual blah danceclub last night. The DJ did fairly well, though, even his hip-hop sets were fairly energetic, so I was able to dance. I had a preposterous number of guys mocking me last night, but since they stayed out of the way for the most part, I didn't mind terribly.
After half an hour or so of dancing, a girl came up and asked "How are you doing that?" "Doing what?" "The way you dance! How do you do that?" I had zero idea how to reply; I just do little raver-kid things. She waved her friends over, and she danced with me, while her friends hopped around. The guys who had mocked me surrounded us, and several began openly belittling me. We chuckled over the fact that none of the guys yet would dance- I might be a horrible dancer, but at least I was having fun, that kind of thing.
The time spent with that girl was awkward in so many ways, though. I can't dance with people, and she kept trying to get me to put my arm around her or whatever. She was a very attractive girl, but I really couldn't muster any enthusiasm for the situation. Part was just superficial- she was the stereotypical blue-eyed-blonde cheerleader-type, and no one in her group seemed to be a misfit in the slightest. Frankly, I was confused as to why I warranted her attention. Part was timing; stress at work and school meant that I just wanted to release energy on the dancefloor. Most of it was my personality; I don't really flirt, I feel uncomfortable with the meatmarket atmosphere of dance clubs, and I frankly felt put on the spot. I might be somewhat intelligent, but I lack a quick wit, and have nothing to say to people with whom I have yet to become comfortable.
After a while, the girl's friends dragged her away, and it was a bit obvious that I'd hurt her feelings by not really reciprocating the attention. A shame, really.
A few other stupid incidents happened, nothing terribly of note. Threatened outside by a random passer-by who thought I was ogling his girlfriend, when I was geekily checking out the imported sodas at the gyro shack... girls or soda? Soda.
Napped for a bit when I got home, then spent a few hours tossing and turning, bitten by l'esprit d'escalier over the danceclub thing, replaying thrown away chances over the last few years...
...over the years I've built up a defense mechanism, not really showing interest in people, not risking my pride to ask someone out or flirt with someone, always relying on whomever I fancy to magically decide to pursue me, instead. Then it happens, and I panic and run away, somehow completely misinterpret the situation and raze the possibilities for love or romance to the ground, or am so trepidatious that I'm simply dropped in favor of someone more alive.
I miss love, I miss being loved, and I miss loving someone. But, I don't trust love anymore, I don't trust how I feel, and I don't trust the motivations of others.
Kali did a journal entry the other day about true love, and the pain that it causes when it fades/dies. The cynic in me isn't so sure that the initial blossom of all-consuming passion is love so much as incredibly deep lust, but whatever that feeling is, I've had it once. That feeling was the most incredible feeling I have ever had in my life, and it lasted for days, weeks, months. The greatest possible natural high, an intoxicant that made me smarter, sharper, wittier, better-looking, everything. Nothing I have ever done in life can compare to how I felt then. Yet, the pain at the end of that relationship outweighed the initial rush, and I never want to experience it again. Love or lust, I wish I could experience it without the heartbreak, but since I can't get a guarantee, I just don't risk it any more.
It makes me wonder why I still keep courting crushes, still look to catch the eye of assorted cutie-pie women, when I know that my brain will step in at some point and shut it all down. It's hard to not feel broken, and it's hard to convince myself that things will ever change.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
jenya:
you have a date with Suzy Snowflake soon. She won't let you down
kalidoom:
YOU ARE A POOPYHEAD!!