Started work. Busy busy busy.

Everything is beautiful, even when some parts are bound to ache. I'm inclined to think that it is all so disgustingly perfect. So marvelously imperfect that, really, it is perfect. Everything is.

Found.

I think I might keep his Oxford fencing sweatshirt. I would write about our nighttime rendez-vous, but that always seems to jinx things. Bowling tonight.

In the meantime: not thinking about past aggravations. If he calls, fine. I will listen- but ONLY listen. And I will not seek him out on my own.

Boy has a son.

As of...two days ago.

Me: looking for new boy.

I'm on my way out the door to go to Fallbrook for the weekend, as soon as Ulrika gets her skinny tush here. Ava is coming on our mini vaca too, despite having a final on Tuesday. I guess finals aren't such a big deal in high school. I've forgotten what it's like to not be suffocating under the endless body of studying and work to be done. This is nice, the idea of vacation. I can't wait to relax in and by the infinity pool, soaking in the sun and reading all day. I can already see my fingers beginning to prune from their prolonged exposure to the water. And tan! Finally, I'll escape this ghostly Portlander makeover and satisfy my body with all the vitamin D it craves.

Ah! Ulrika is here! Vacation begins.

Last night I think I had what a normal person might call a date. I met aforementioned boy for drinks; we drove around looking for a place to drink, settling on a chic bar on the strip. We met someone who immediately bought us drinks (also cute, he looked rich and trashed), and then snuck off into our own corner for some privacy. Observed a 70-something sugar daddy with two scantily dressed "ladies" at his side, and even delighted in a threesome makeout finale. We stayed until we got kicked out and tried to make the night last as long as we could. He rapped for me. A poem he wrote. It was fucking beautiful, all of it.

I'm going through all of my old school papers, from elementary school until this year, getting rid of what I don't need.

Some gems:

-From a report on Michael Jordan written in 1999:
"Michael has a few nicknames. Most people know him as 'Air Jordan'. There are even some shoes named after him. You can also call him MJ, or Mike if you want. Michael changed the game of basketball. He added grace and perfection."
"he doesn't like rap music or talking on the phone, so don't call him."

-A poem also written in 6th grade:
Darkness
Gloomy, dusky
Dimmed, gray, white
Brightness, brilliant, radiant, flash
Shining,showing, bright red
Luminous, lustrous
Lightness
(What does it mean? I will never know)

-On one assignment (also 1999, but I think 7th grade), I drew a brain with the sections: "emotions, decisions, self-esteem, humanity/creativity, communication, observation and intellect/ideas." Not quite right. But interesting.

-We read James Wheldon Johnson's "The Creation". A nascent sign of my burgeoning atheism, I wrote:
"I noticed that God did not say "That's good" when he created man." Bam!

-My inherent inclination to experiment. In 7th grade (2000), in a journal that I was forced to keep in an English class, I decided to give up listening to music for a weekend and record my thoughts and experience without it. "I know it will be difficult, but I believe I can manage." "I can't wait until this is over so I can start dancing again." What a hardship.

-In 9th grade, for health class, I wrote a diary in the perspective of an LSD user, in which I use the nickname "mind detergent". I express addiction with "I need to get my hands on some blotter paper as soon as I can." Later, my supplier overdoses and goes into a coma, only to die soon after. In the end, I quit and conclude that out of all the drugs you could take, LSD is really not so bad. I stand by my former (inexperienced) judgment to this day.

And the blogosphere tempts again

I guess I'll try to blog again for the summer.

A vain attempt to get people to care about my life, to be sure, but it could occupy some of the time that I'm spending looking for something to do. There are only so many hours I can read on any given day, and I think four years of Reed has thoroughly worn me out. That said, I have actually read a few great books in the past couple of weeks. If you haven't read Dan Ariely's Predictably Irrational, get a copy and read it this minute. No joke. Since graduation, all I want to do is make to-do lists and think about all the exciting things I would do if I were more ambitious. I could give a little preview.

I want to photograph Los Angeles. All of it. Go to the zoo. Not just the LA zoo, but San Diego too. Also, aquariums. I love aquariums. My big project of the moment is making a photo book of the last four years (a Reed yearbook, one might say, but for all 4 years, obvs). I can just make it in iphoto and get it printed for not too many dollars. The hardest part is choosing which of the thousands of photos that I selected will make it to the final drawing table.

I get to see my gyno tomorrow, and also play with a cadaver, two related but unrelated things. Momma cut open the spine and removed the brain/spinal cord, and we'll get to further dissect it tomorrow.

I started talking (via fb msg, lame I know) to the boy I was madly crushing on during pretty much all of high school. He's still wonderful. I don't know if I should invite him to get drinks. I'm terrified. I'm going to call.