5:03 p.m. - February 20, 2003
Occasionally I turn about and challenge this swirl of madness; today I accepted an invitation to a James Taylor concert in Washington, D.C. in June. Marti Ė you remember her, donít you, from last summer? Ė sent me an IM confirming salary for this summerís session (a hefty raise, yay me) and lacking a segue, asked if Iíd be interested in going with her to see Mr. Taylor and I considered the pros and cons Ė more cons than pros, the weightiest con being having to make pre-music conversation, but then I can always recite French poetry this time and make her wet again Ė and said Yes. Summer plans are coming along well though I still do not know what courses I will teach; Marti will find documentation giving me a hint. My Dean said sheís putting together ďsomething funĒ but wouldnít elaborate; it is not in me to argue with a Dean about my need for absolutely no surprises without coming across as being unprofessional and not atop all things. I would love to teach literature but alas! that is another department; I will likely have some form of child language development, bilingualism, language pedagogy unless Iím thrown for a loop and end up with something hideous like social dynamics of language or Intro to Linguistics but regardless, I will enjoy my summer. Iím not a fan of being in the dark regarding myself but given that Iím dealing with a consortium of universities, Deans, and originating bursars, Iíll sit tight. Reminded Marti that I want housing in-city and preferably near the university or in Adams-Morgan and I think I could hear her snort from D.C. We shall see.
Meandering paragraph to say I accepted an invitation and 1 point for Jason.
Spec says heís coming over and I havenít decided how I feel about this. When he called during his lunch we argued over nothing when I informed him that Iíve planned to go away this weekend Ė and yes, I admit, I realize I told him this to dig and recall Iíve never claimed to be mature Ė and heís convinced Iím seeing somebody else. He doesnít understand that itís better for us to tread separate paths even though we have strong emotions Ė and that was a cop-out; I dislike saying here I love him but I do, but I love myself more and Jesus, that sounds awful, contrite, and like Iíve ingested far too much Ricki Lake today Ė but you know me; I have little Withstand Ability, especially when heís standing next to me. I can tell he is irritated and thatís the part of him I dislike the most and I know me: As Iíll try to avoid setting him off, heíll become angry. Iíve never understood people who hit and those who take it, havenít watched enough Cops bad boys bad boys whatcha gonna do when they come for you or Court TV I cut off his penis because he slapped me and I couldnít take it any longer to get a feel for the matter, but I recognize I exacerbate things. And when I bring it up, Spec, you have a hitting problem it goes over as well as things would if he were to say, Jason, you have a sex problem. How do people in our situation talk about it without being bitter, defensive, and accusatory? I canít think of how, not a single idea. I donít feel Ė never have Ė Specís equal, never felt I deserved him. And that does something to a person. I resent him unfairly, feel sometimes that he converted me and disrupted all my plans, but just as thatís both immature and exculpatory, itís potent. Yet this is balanced by emotions and feelings that I would not ever give up or take back, but just because Iíve enjoyed the treats of the candy store, it doesnít mean I should set camp in the alley behind. I wonder if he hits because heís picked up on the way I feel not his equal. I donít know. I can also recognize a fear that I wonít ever find a guy with whom I can experience the fullness of a relationship. Itís all a mess.
Sign the guestbook; Iím feeling needy.