8:04 p.m. - November 04, 2003
I'm supposed to review the workshop materials and make any final revisions tonight, but I'm distracted and struggling to concentrate. I'm willing the phone to ring, discover an overlooked load of laundry, a reason to alphabetize something, though as yet to no avail. Familiar doubts about the workshops (trainings? lectures? presentations? I never know what to call them) compounding unease and a general anomie tonight, the desire for company a neighboring rowan tree. Conscious that my materials are excellent and I have nothing to fear, though knowing this audience is to be the largest yet, I spin wheels in that frustrating pursuit of perfection. New York, Montreal, then a day all to myself and I’ve been researching Things To Do in Montreal because I am firm on one count: I will not hole up in the hotel.
Thinking about Anthropology Man’s revelation (confession? Bravura?) and Monday’s therapy group and oddly enough, a list of people whom I’d like to get to know better. And weather: Any snow in Rochester? And differences between continental French and Québeçois other than calling a vehicle a char instead of auto because – to the chagrin of both the Académie Française and those lofty-nosed Parisians – Quebec French is more authentic than its progenitor. I’m excited, I admit it.
Anthropology Man: What else can I say other than state disappointment? Is disappointment selfish given I wanted to pursue him and would still, despite his relationship? No point in wondering but I do, wonder if I would disregard everything I believe for companionship. It’s that bad, I think.
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