Closing of the Week

I've had a really lovely two days besides getting all mopey this afternoon. Yesterday, I rocked the Lit. Exam, read Wikipedia during Art, got mistaken for a substitute, and spent all the rest of the day in anticipation and utter elation. Disbelief fringed the whole experience, and an exhausted relief that all of my anxious fears were for naught. Several times I've sang with a catch in my throat. Several times I've teared up while singing. However, I could not recollect having such experiences caused by disbelieving joy.

States was fun. The day had me flattered, as my intellect and my shoes were complimented. We missed qualifying for semifinals by two questions. Retrospectively, that what it always seems to come down to for our HiQ team. "If we had just done this..." "if only I had said 'hour' instead of 'day,' 'stream' instead of 'current....'" Still, it is an honor and wonderful experience to attend State Academic Championships. The Capitol Building is artful almost to garish effect. There are gilded cherubs and flowering scroll work EVERYWHERE. I explored around before lunch to amuse myself with the lavish government headquarters. Being with the team felt good today; though I didn't know how to compose myself, full of dirty thoughts tempered with respectable duties. Wasiq fell asleep in the van on the way home. It was kind of adorable.

Embittered

Today, I got a little down in sorts. Since the summer, I'm far more reserved. I've never especially been the one to "reach out" in a relationship, but now it has ceased almost completely. If I am home, I home alone with my thoughts. It makes me feel isolated even though there may be any number of people just waiting to be contacted. I don't often acknowledge them in my thoughts.

I wonder if I am still endearing. I'm more vulgar than I used to be, but also older. There is no older demographic to appeal to except for teachers, but my persona there is usually lazy smart ass.

I keep writing huge paragraphs and deleting them.

Holy shit, I'm excited.

Joek

My hands are on fire. It burns to type. I apologize guitar, for all that I've done and not done, the neglect and rejection. Never again will I allow you to fall into such disrepair as you'll be separated from me; 13 days in the company of strange men who fondle your neck and body.

Sometime, late at night in the recess of my mind, I wonder on New York, a city of gawking, if Joe had let me hold his hand, perhaps that man would not have made fun, would not have incited his classmates to laughter. They tipped him for the joek.

I've had two dreams about Viv in the past week.