The lower left side of my mouth aches from the surgery from time to time, but with the pain meds I can't feel a thing. I'd tried most of a day without them, but there's some major inflammation going on. It's been exacerbated by some exogenous stress I've experienced recently. Almost said goodbye to Hill and finally parted ways with another. It's been a transitional time period. But all is well and it's a good friday.

* * *

I'd run into Brian two days ago while doing Teaching Assistant xeroxing. We talked some, I asked him if he was doing anything, and we decided we'd rent a movie later that night.

Before I actually headed out to meet him at the rental place, though, I unexpectedly got a call from Hill. Everything is cool now. See, after initially getting angry, I thought to myself that: 1) I agreed with her assessment and had felt similarly 'things are generally just not good and bleh' for a few weeks; 2) I was getting riled over a purely hypothetical situation; 3) the friendship was what mattered most. And she'd still like to snuggle while watching movies, so no loss to me. I partly date people just so I have an excuse to get close human contact.

She also gave me some really useful insight into my infamous bad luck with women. As some of you know, I assume the absolute worst about people and their intentions. It's not healthy, but if something can be taken negatively or as an affront to me, that's the way I take it. It stems from childhood and I developed it as a mechanism for not getting hurt. What I hadn't known was that this is perceived as an invitation to be an aggressor, and that I'm presenting myself as a victim. All this time I'd done this shit because, if I needed to, I could just walk away from whatever flaming car accident I'd encountered with friend or lover XYZ. But now I see the sudden explosion may have been precipitated by my not fully trusting their ass or thinking they'll fuck me over. How that perception on my part may build up and up in the other person until they can't deal with it anymore.

To whit a la Samuel Jackson, I wish some of those dumb bitches told me this shit.

But now I know. The minute she told me I was thinking, "...that's it! It's so fucking simple! Well that's something I can fix." Seriously, the paranoia is just a habitual reflex, like married sex past 35.

I'm not saying I like the idea leaving behind my cynical paranoia and reading negatively into people's ambiguous comments. Those motherfuckers have gotten me through some evil people and downright repugnant shit.

But I have a game plan in mind now to find someone:

*Buy some new trousers that fit. I'm down to a 32/34, so what I've got now needs to be cinched too much. That and I've found out that pleats + tapered pants = old man style. Here I thought it meant distinguished. I've got an offer from Brian and Tat to help out, or Hill. I'll make a choice on who can help out first.

*Buying a pair of hair clippers so I don't get the privilege of paying 7 bucks a month to buzz my hair.

*Go out with Brian to some of the more Bohemian or older-oriented bars around town. We're trying Willy St. one of these weekends, whether or not the rest of the psych grad posse shows up. We figure there'll be less of the shallow bitch factor. At the least it'll be practice. And who knows. I've met good people at bars before.

*Work on trying to take people at face value instead of reading into their actions. I think I've been entirely too taken with picking apart others. Life is too short and people in general are too fucking dull to bother. Combined with my knowledge that not giving a fuck is cool, we'll see.

So far as tonight goes, there's a party over at Becky's place. I have to drive over, but that's alright. I get to bust out my denim shorts and hawaiian shirts. It's warm enough outside that my balls won't sound like maracas while I move. It's a drag that I can't drink, but stomach bleeding is not on the menu.

So I'll finish up the introduction to my manuscript, hopefully finish the PsychoNeuroImmunology reading, and do some photography posting before I head over.

I've also been talking to Jack the (St)ripper again. Missed that man, I did. I'm curious as to what's been happening with him in Florence, if Gabe is alright. One of these years I should take them up on their sojourn offer to go over there. Seems like it'd be an absolute blast, though I do admit I like the way Gabe and Jack look perhaps a bit too much for an admittedly heterosexual male. But then appreciation and sexual attraction are different beasts with similar equipment.

But then aren't we all.

I also finally ended my friendship with Cam. It required death and was beyond recovery. A lack of trust makes such things the walking dead, animated only by convenience. After a final fiery conclusion that was that. One more for the tree.

previous - next