”It's like my pool is tearing ass around my backyard. Except it's standing still. Still waters run deep.”
It's the little things that getcha. I was this close to sleeping through class today, until a power blip sent my computer into noisy reboot spasms. After class, I thought about talking to one of my classmates, but she took her sweet time leaving the room and I didn’t feel like waiting. As I exited the building, I saw Megan walking a few feet in front of me, but I didn't feel like doing a stop and chat, so I didn't get her attention. Coming around the corner of the architecture building, I could have very easily trotted and made the #1. But it was pleasant outside, so I felt like walking. I thought about stopping for lunch, then decided I wanted some San Antonio food instead. And my friend Brandy was one car away from being able to cross the street right before we noticed each other.
As it was, we said hello, she gave me an awkward hug, we exchanged the requisite How you been? She immediately brought up 325M, which I notice is a reflex whenever I run into someone from the class because none of our friendships survived outside the context of it. Then she hesitated and I knew she what was going for: "So . . . I need to call Christa," she said tentatively, "about the baby. I IMed with her a couple weeks ago. I guess it's already been delivered by now." I nodded and changed the subject.
I don't understand why people from that class frequently decide to bring up the most unpleasant memory for me about the entire Trimble experience. I never bring it up; I've said before that I'd rather not talk about it — but people still feel like updating me. It's not that big a deal, but the last thing I wanted before I go to San Antonio for four days of non-stop writing — that is, being for the most part alone with my thoughts — is to have that unpleasant reality brought to my attention again.
(Brandy, I know you used to read this thing, and in case you stop by sometime, I don't want you to think that I'm mad at you. Just disappointed you brought that up.)
Am I the only person who deals with things by just ignoring them? Especially when I cannot and can never change them? Is that not a good way to handle things? I don't think about Christa much anymore, and I'd really rather talk to the person in front of me about the person in front of me, rather than hounding the past. But I guess people need their comfort zones, so they revert to the common thread. I can't really blame them, I guess, if I'm the one who, a year and a half later, would prefer to pretend the entire situation never happened. I just wish they'd give me the option of bringing it up.
What was it Aime Cesaire said? "Forgive, but never forget." I don't think that’s so much a dictum as a description of human nature. Well, enough expunging for one afternoon. (Now for the triumphant moralistic upswing!) Dwelling never got us anywhere, did it? Especially not when it prevents me from reaching my future (O! future!) of enchiladas, and breakfast tacos (O! giant tacos!) and the first draft of my thesis.
It's the little things that getcha. I was this close to sleeping through class today, until a power blip sent my computer into noisy reboot spasms. After class, I thought about talking to one of my classmates, but she took her sweet time leaving the room and I didn’t feel like waiting. As I exited the building, I saw Megan walking a few feet in front of me, but I didn't feel like doing a stop and chat, so I didn't get her attention. Coming around the corner of the architecture building, I could have very easily trotted and made the #1. But it was pleasant outside, so I felt like walking. I thought about stopping for lunch, then decided I wanted some San Antonio food instead. And my friend Brandy was one car away from being able to cross the street right before we noticed each other.
As it was, we said hello, she gave me an awkward hug, we exchanged the requisite How you been? She immediately brought up 325M, which I notice is a reflex whenever I run into someone from the class because none of our friendships survived outside the context of it. Then she hesitated and I knew she what was going for: "So . . . I need to call Christa," she said tentatively, "about the baby. I IMed with her a couple weeks ago. I guess it's already been delivered by now." I nodded and changed the subject.
I don't understand why people from that class frequently decide to bring up the most unpleasant memory for me about the entire Trimble experience. I never bring it up; I've said before that I'd rather not talk about it — but people still feel like updating me. It's not that big a deal, but the last thing I wanted before I go to San Antonio for four days of non-stop writing — that is, being for the most part alone with my thoughts — is to have that unpleasant reality brought to my attention again.
(Brandy, I know you used to read this thing, and in case you stop by sometime, I don't want you to think that I'm mad at you. Just disappointed you brought that up.)
Am I the only person who deals with things by just ignoring them? Especially when I cannot and can never change them? Is that not a good way to handle things? I don't think about Christa much anymore, and I'd really rather talk to the person in front of me about the person in front of me, rather than hounding the past. But I guess people need their comfort zones, so they revert to the common thread. I can't really blame them, I guess, if I'm the one who, a year and a half later, would prefer to pretend the entire situation never happened. I just wish they'd give me the option of bringing it up.
What was it Aime Cesaire said? "Forgive, but never forget." I don't think that’s so much a dictum as a description of human nature. Well, enough expunging for one afternoon. (Now for the triumphant moralistic upswing!) Dwelling never got us anywhere, did it? Especially not when it prevents me from reaching my future (O! future!) of enchiladas, and breakfast tacos (O! giant tacos!) and the first draft of my thesis.
posted by Matt at 11:59 AM
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