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8:51 a.m. - February 17, 2003
I just don't know diddly shit when it comes to perceptions. Diddly shit? Squat? Who cares.
Last night while we were eating at Sweet Tomatoes a guy who looked vaguely familiar approached me and asked if my name was Jason and had I worked at the college where he is a student now; I replied affirmatively and he continued saying In class we watch you on TV! and proceeded to blather on and this has happened before Ė not to be arrogant, but this happens often Ė and Spec was incredulous, Youíre on TV? Yeah, twice a month Iím in a TV studio for 6 hours and the programs are aired between the Pacific and the Mississippi Ė and this guy (donít remember his name) kept yammering away and in situations like that I lack a polite way to cut off the fount so to speak and I usually play along; I was especially curious because I wanted to know how exactly those tapes are being used in his class with the infamous Shelly (remember her, Shannon?) and the guy was fun to talk to, not only for the minute ego boost. I could tell Spec was impatient and fought the immediate impulse to cut off the conversation because I will not jump when he snaps his fingers Ė and this was a mistake. When the guy left Spec was livid and flat out lectured me: Couldnít I tell this guy was gay and was flirting, Why didnít I introduce him as my boyfriend, Iím rude and inconsiderate, Why was I flirting back and a lot of other things that flew past my ears. He was really upset so I left. I walked home and he didnít return for a couple hours and of course I thought, trying to understand where heís coming from. I donít understand why he gets like this. When heís in my zone he wants me to introduce him as my boyfriend, but when Iím in his, weíre friends. He doesnít understand, I donít understand.

We didnít talk about it when he came back but he apologized for over-reacting and I let it go at that. He has his faults, I have mine.

Heís coming with me to Stanford today while I do a few things Ė no class this morning! Ė and weíll gather some oranges. Yup, a literal stroll down memory lane.

My writing this morning is disjointed.

Spec wants to know why I maintain an online journal and is bugging me to show him. Yeah, right.

Strange. He just said heís going to make my fantasy come true tonight. What fantasy?

I can tell heís trying. I need to try as well.

 

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