I don't know what to name this thing.

"A" Students

I have learned from a young age that the “A” students generally fall into two camps: Inherent “A” students, and then those who are “A” students by choice. I am the former, and I must say that because of it my study skills are very poor. On the occasion when I encounter a concept I have trouble grasping or a lot of data to memorize, I struggle with myself, with it. Always learn it, it’s just that having to “study” is foreign enough that I’m terrible at it and loathe doing it.

I’ve been watching the other guy all week and he’s obviously the latter. He’s working HARD. He’s quite experienced in the field and is intelligent to talk to, but he doesn’t learn like he’s a duck and ideas are water. He asks a ton of questions. He pours over those labs and if he seems to actually complete one in the time allotted he goes back over it still in his last ten minutes or else I see him flipping back or flipping ahead in his class texts. I admire him. He struggles grasping the concepts the instructor is presenting, while I sit here in the back row tumbling and chatting on IM and reading ahead in the lab workbook AND listening to the lecture, just absorbing it all without conflict. What I will struggle with is learning the new programming language presented to me here, and that’s just because I have so many commands to memorize. But that guy… he WANTS this in a way I don’t know how to.

Sometimes I feel like I’d prefer to know how to want to learn badly enough, to always work hard at learning, than to have it be just a gift I came from factory with but often don’t have enough respect for. He’s not lazy the way I am. I envy him that.

I feel like I have lost or am losing all of my friends.

sarahha:

When did that happen?

It happens when we aren’t paying attention. Most friendships are no different than romantic relationships: they require a little effort from both parties on a regular basis, and if you let them stagnate for too long (and it’s never intentional), one day you turn around to find the bonds have dissolved while you were distracted. We’re truly lucky folks when we make friends with whom no matter how much time has passed, a reunion is always the same: joyous, ecstatic to be in one another’s company again, and “picks up right where you left off.”

My sink is full of unwashed dishes; my mind, unfinished thoughts.
A smear of egg yolk forgotten on the stove top has spread to my cheek,
and crumbs gather in the rug, marinating in the salt of dried tears from moments passed.

I am a perpetual mess.

My thoughts are just too large to sift all the way down my arm and out the .5mm tip of this ink pen.

Somewhere around my knuckles, they get stuck.

For most of the evening, the ex-boyfriend stayed away. I did bust him repeatedly staring at me, though, from the next room, with that look on his face he used to give me when he first got together. That was one of the things that sucked me in back in those days: his ability to look at you like you were at that moment the only person on the face of the planet and that you were aesthetic perfection. I wanted someone to think I was beautiful and love me crazily, and that he apparently did, though he wasn’t really a good match for me and wasn’t much of a boyfriend in some ways that I now know are very important.

I was hoping to get my shoes and duck out without having to deal with him, but he approached and thrusted something at me as I had my hands busy lacing my boots.

He said he’d bought it for me right after we’d split… that he didn’t know why he’d done it, but here it was. I told him twice I couldn’t take it, and he then basically begged, please, it was meant for you, you ought to have it anyway. He looked at the floor and shook his head, dismissing both of us from everything that has happened and just looked at me with nothing more than honesty. Alright. I took it. He came in for a hug, which I returned loosely, and that’s when he kissed my cheek.

There are all different kinds of kisses, and I realized at that moment that clearly no matter where a kiss is placed, it can mean just the same thing or more as any other kiss. He ninja’d that kiss, and he inhaled sharply and pressed his whole face into me like I was intoxicating when he did it.

I pulled away, finished with my boots, and walked away. I hugged the woman that was the only reason I really even went tonight, said goodbye to the people who happened to be loitering near her, and left quickly.

He texted me, and I didn’t reply. I will not see him again socially. Because I now know from experiencing both, that for me, being on the receiving end of love you don’t want is much, much worse than being the one living in something unrequited. Feeling what trembled just beneath the touch of his lips and rejecting it because I don’t want it any more was one of the most unpleasant things I’ve ever done.

I will never: dye my hair pink.

I am: the woman of Jemaine Clement’s dreams. He just hasn’t figured it out yet.

I wish: I hadn’t given my phone a shower this morning.

The craziest: people are usually my favorites.

The silliest: thing I’ve done today involved singing Combat Baby to a stranger at a stoplight. He approved.

Why: did Tumblr choose Graphic Designer Blue-Gray as the background color for the Dashboard? I mean, I love you Tumblr, but srsly?

I love: real hugs. Not those awkward only-embracing-you-out-of-politeness hugs; I’m talking about squeezy, familiar hugs that you know are sincere.

I hate: laptops that only have the little nubby mouse controller (yes, bitch, that’s the technical term).

I cannot stand: styrofoam.

I will always: look back on the young days of deviantART and smile. In 2002, that place was the shiznit.

I have: very little patience and even less grace.

I need: a snack. Hungreh!

I still: lose faith in my abilities often.

I fear: moving backwards.

I turned down: a photo gig recently.

I kissed: both too much and not enough.

I might: be only the sum of parts of thousands of strangers.

I used to: be the fucking Queen of the Kickball Fields!

I should have: eaten sushi a long time before I actually did.

I do not understand: how in the hell the Windows XP initialization wizard music is fitting in so nicely with the Imogen Heap I’m listening to?!

I am not: capable of driving forty miles per hour on the highway unless I’m forced to by traffic.

I be mentally drained, emotionally sleepy, and physically exhausted.

If somebody’d come rub me down from head to toe and make me breakfast in the morning, I’d…

I’d…

Well I’m too tired to think of something good right now. But I’d make it worth your while.

If your company email signature is in Comic Sans, that's an automatic point against you. Gross.

Confession:

Just about the only people who intimidate me are astonishingly beautiful women. I don’t fully understand why, but it always works that way.

Sitting in the dark, in the quiet. Tired.

I suddenly had a moment when I remembered that I could do anything.

Anyfuckingthing.

I could strip naked and run down the stairs, bust out into the courtyard, and streak up the street if I wanted to.

(In this part of town, no one would even bat an eye at that.)

But instead, I think I’ll either go read or go to bed, and rest with the knowledge that I could go get in my car and drive to North Carolina. If I felt like it.

Lucky for North Carolina, I do not.

I want to be held.

Somebody come snuggle me.

I crave affectionate human contact way more than I probably should.

It’s not every day of the week…

Just most of them.

Is this normal? I’m acknowledging this ravenous desire for the first time in my life and it feels so strange to just be okay with wanting comfort.

At least I’m happy. :)

I live for:

When words become superfluous, and all that’s left are things like music and tears and periodic overzealous dancing. We’re from Nova Scotia, no one more than the short one, the one with the nice rack, and the blonde, and it’s all fun and games until the cops pull us over. I am a heap of rubble out on the side of I35 northbound, and I flirt shamelessly with men old enough to be my father in cars worth more than everything I own. In this hour, my hands are numb from the highway’s breath and everything reflects the silvery paint of the sun. We are radiant. We are exquisite. We own this world.

Today dawns, and I find myself quiet, poetic, thankful… and quite hungry.