There is still room for old-school love in this town. I admire him from afar, with curiosity, with yearning. Yet I restrain myself. I know the fantasy is better than the reality. And so I let it go, let it wash away in the waves. Departing, waking.
Iíve written Jack several long-winded e-mails telling him my true feelings. I donít know if I can get through to him. Heís always playing the victim card.
I love seeing her newfound aggression on the court. Sheís jumping into her serves more and moving up into the court following the serve. That takes guts. Her whole comeback following three years off court took tremendous courage. She risked tarnishing the gloss of her first career, had she failed. She didnít.
My girl crushes always seem more substantive than my boy crushes. I admire girls, physically, mentally. Boys rarely strike me so viscerally, so immediately. Itís more about how they respond to me... whether they laugh at my bizarre jokes, whether they appreciate what I have to say. Itís a much more conditional crush.
With girls, Iím simply attracted, curious. I want to breathe the same rarified air.
A lot of people arenít nice by default; theyíre nice reflexively, conditionally, if others are nice to them. These people are like passive sponges, soaking up the positive energies from others, and responding in kind only to those who initiate and work to sustain the positive interactions.
These arenít necessarily bad people. Some are simply cautious or reserved. But others are truly egotistical and judgmental of others. Itís dangerous to get too used to their conditional warmth.
What a small bowl I swim in. And how distorted my view of the outside world. Sometimes I wish I had a greater aptitude for seeing the ďbig pictureĒ on a macroscopic level.
Then again, thereís a reason Iím applying to grad school for XYZ. My world is about people. My gaze naturally rests and focuses on the individual.
This was the song that introduced me to Kings of Convenience. I had woken up too early out of necessity this morning. Venturing out into an abysmally frigid winterís day, I was in one hell of a grumpy mood. I returned home as soon as I could and curled up in bed, too tired and unmotivated to do anything else. With curtains drawn, sunlight nevertheless seeped through the edges. Like an embrace, ďCayman IslandsĒ calmed and comforted.
I guess we all have to learn our own lessons. I can only try to be a good friend... while still setting personal limits for how much I can take. Dark days in this metropolis.
The Old City, sepia-toned under the glow of sodium lamps. Sana'a was especially beautiful at night, after the rain had abated.
We met many times in the evening, but never in the Old City. "Our place" was a bustling cafeteria that was open 24/7. We would take a debab there and have some sandwiches and fresh juice, before heading down to Hadda Street.
Freedom, free trade, has resulted in a portion of the populace growing incredibly rich. What does wealth bring? And what of those left behind, living in the margins?
My mood changes on a dime.
As recent as this afternoon, I was all emo over Verdant, sighing and making myself a nuisance with everyone who knows our story. Then Cage comes online and cheers me up with good geeky conversation. I donít hold any unrealistic hopes about this dashing young lad. Nice, for now.
From the perspective of Verdant, I donít know. I feel sort of insincere now, sending that ďI miss you tooĒ message, way after the fact. The truth is, I do think about him a lot. But I donít feel as comfortable around him as with Cage.
Then I talked to Cage. And again, amazingly, ineffably, the conversation just flowed. Easy banter, easy joking around. Easy, breezy, beautiful. Unpredictable: life.
It makes me question the depth and sincerity of my feelings and convictions. Talking with Jack really made me wonder... did Verdant and I like each other merely because of lust and because we both like getting attention? That ainít love. Is that even like? I feel cynical.
Itís like that Gwen Stefani song, ďCool.Ē
Same with Verdant. Perhaps we just are not meant to be. But I wish him well, and I treasure the time we spent together. It was a summer romance not to be forgotten.
This is one of the toughest things to feel. What happened to the heightened emotions we experienced together? What happened to those lovely words and the attentive treatment? Distance dulls the passions of the heart, and memories dim with the passage of time.
If I were once again, next to him, for one night... perhaps we might recharge, remember.
Entry into grad school no longer seems a promising prospect. I feel all hope draining out of my body. I know he no longer thinks of me, despite his assertions otherwise. Itís nice for him to hear those sweet, warm words from me. Itís nice to be on the receiving end of that lavish attention. And such sweet words are easy to return. For a moment, indulge in the mutually illusory song and dance of nostalgic romance.
As Jack said, itís nice that you guys have a good beginning. Again, my emotions change on a dime. Thank god for the internet.
Or alternately, perhaps we shall never meet again. Just a blip on the romantic resume. Summer, 2006, Sanaía.
Or possibly, I will forget him. I will wake up one day and my mind will be empty of him. Do I want eternal sunshine?
This is another beginning. Iím going to work hard to make this right. Considering everything that went right about this day, I feel oddly weighed down and borderline melancholy. Itís as if Iím missing something.
Where are you? Itís raining nonstop in Maryland right now, on the evening of Jackís birthday. Tennis went well this morning. Iím always at my best when thereís a little bit of competition involved. (Where are you?) Arabic class was fun, as usual. Iím a little behind though. (Where are you?)
I too, am desperate. Desperate to try to turn the tide, desperate to start anew. I canít see into the murky distant future, but I can see as far as tomorrow. I can try to make tomorrow a successful day. There is hope here.
In the face of rampant doubt and negativity, I just have to keep my head high and listen to the voice inside. Thereís something magnificent about the way Iíve been suckered into this job. Iím so amped up and ready to go, yet completely unprepared to actually go out and do everything required of me. Insidious, brilliant. Forget fear.
Itís all about losing face. I canít let fear dominate life.
And yet, the potential is there to get the money. Iíve already put in a lot of effort into this endeavor. I want to start achieving some success. Iíve already invested so much time and energy. I have to see this through.
First of all, I need to pick my appointments carefully, instead of just trying to set up as many as possible. I have to be careful; otherwise, my ratio of visits to sales will suffer. Second, I need to give the best presentation that I can, and at the very least, invoke desire for the product in the consumer. I can only focus on closing the deal after completing these two steps first.
Say what you will about their vulgar sense of humor, their lack of polish (for lack of a better term)Ö these are down to earth guys working hard for the sake of their families. These are guys with roots; guys determined not to let the ones counting on them down. Iím the opposite. Iím a floater.
Iím tiptoeing around a lot of things these days. Flirting with folks with no intentions to follow through. Dancing around issues.
Cage called me ďweirdĒ and said that he can read most people, but he can never read me. Verdant said the same about me. I wonder why Bobo always ďgotĒ me. Or, maybe Iíve simply grown a shell since then. And all I really want is warm, encompassing love.
(Money, it was there for the making.) Iím doing a lot better, in many ways. Itís no longer so difficult to laugh or smile or cry. I have yet to see Leaving Las Vegas; I keep putting it off.