It is written by a woman who is quite attractive (I have always thought so [it's her hands, they're delicate and almost see-through like a watercolor or fine porcelain]) and who is surprisingly (I don't know why I assumed otherwise) verbally capable. She said "(She got accepted to a grad school, so . . .) I told my mum that now I can go drink and debauch without fear, and she gave me the gimlet eye. I have to practice that--it's very quellingly effective."
Gimlet?
I read seven or eight of her blogposts. I tried to pick the ones that were interesting. Most of them were very.
She's too old and she's about to graduate. (May)
I sat there, looking at her flash fiction for creative writing (about her sexual fear of a man late at night) and wishing that I could invite her to read my blog or meet me in person or judge me and find me lacking so that I could have an actual, solid reason why I wasn't marrying her on the spot. I paused right before I made that decision and chose no.
Why do I always choose no?
It's a thing you drill holes with.
ReplyDeleteYou can still choose "yes," you know. It's not like you don't know where to find her blog, or her, is it? Also . . . she's probably not that much older than you are, in the grand scheme of things.
Speaking from experience, deciding that you must befriend someone at all costs can give surprising results. What, really, do you have to lose?
ReplyDeleteWhy not take it to an extreme: Is this something you'll regret not doing forever and always, amen?
ReplyDeleteI suppose perhaps it might be.
ReplyDeleteIf I make it into a big thing, it might. But I think there are already too many things in that list of things.
Can there ever be too many things in a list of things?
ReplyDeleteCan there ever be a Bob in a list of people called Brian?
Yes. Why do we always say no?
ReplyDeleteWELL now you know that I think your hands are attractive. GO FORTH IN THAT KNOWLEDGE AND USE IT CAREFULLY.
ReplyDelete*hangs head*
This is pretty embarrassing. I am trying to carpe diem and screwing it up rather badly, I'm afraid. I wish I had Oscar Wilde's wit and Byron's skill with ladies.
ALAS
The only way to screw up carpe diem is to do nothing about it. At all. THAT is epic failure. Therefore, you haven't screwed up, see? :)
ReplyDeleteI'd tell you not to be embarrassed. But I'm pretty sure you won't listen. I'd say that nobody ever died for being honest, but that's not quite true. However, authenticity--whether that means being witty, or smooth, or playful, or serious, or dark, or bright--always best.
(Listen to the chameleon blather on.)
No, but if you must be embarrassed, by all means, be embarrassed about calling me old! A lady, old! Alas indeed!
*laughing*
Haha, fine, you got me there. I apologize; a pox upon me for a clumsy lout. You are not old. That I could ever think such a thing is anathema. I must have been hallucinating reasons why I wasn't riding a white horse to your house to sweep you off your feet.
ReplyDeleteI may be young, however. I am 19.
I will work my best on not being embarrassed, but I'm pretty sure it won't work. (Like you say.)
Though I should perhaps mention I am 19 and 11 months so that should temper something somewhat.
ReplyDeleteI suppose this is the time at which I must point out that you hold me at a disadvantage. You know what I think of your hands and I know nothing of you other than you write and are female and possibly human.
No, I AM old. You have no idea. I say it all the time. Almost 23.
ReplyDeleteFemale, and human, yes. I mostly write poetry and character sketches, just for fun. I also wear black fingerless gloves, and I'm headed to med school, which unfortunately means that I'm spending this semester closely exploring the anatomy of dead people. I can feel you shudder from here. Your end of campus doesn't usually deal with the dead so closely, I believe.
Haha, alright. Fair enough.
ReplyDeleteI bought glove inserts from the army surplus store. They are black and fingerless and caused one of my poseur friends to find a pair. So kudos there.
And I believe we do deal with the dead quite closely, but not that we think of it that way. Most of the people we read about (their thoughts and dreams) are dead. Shakespeare et. al. are just dead white guys.
But seriously yeah. Cadavers. How did we get a gross anatomy lab here on campus? I would have thought that to be prohibitively expensive.
P.S. Though when I think about it, I've only ever dated women who were older than me. Last girlfriend is now 22. The one before that is 22. So . . perhaps I just like older women? If you see me hanging around a 40 year old cougar, save me for my own sake, please.
Bwahaha! I can see it now--you're standing on the sidewalk talking to an older woman with dark lipstick and the vaguely sinister expression that ALL 40 year olds have when they're going after college guys. You're looking interested (against your better judgement, of course) and are just about to *GASP* leave with her--and suddenly, crowd of your friends rushes by in a thundering herd, and when they pass, you're just GONE and the woman looks all confused. How hysterical would that be! Intervention at the best level!
ReplyDeleteI tried to find my black gloves today and couldn't. I was slightly peeved.
Ok, I know you were in Haluska's class with me, and that you know...TQ and Walker. You are not, by some chance, Canadian?
No, I'm not a Canadian. Which is a shame. I wish I was.
ReplyDeleteI'm about as close as one can be without being one, however. I roomed with a Canadian for two years and as a consequence, I say "zed" instead of "zee" for "Z."
Which of Haluska's classes would that be? I don't actually remember! Survey of English lit? Ancient Classics? GRAH! IT WILL DRIVE ME MAD.
Yes, it was English lit. I sat on the far left, I think you were far right. The guy behind me never knew what we were being quizzed over. I liked Haluska--stern and unyielding, and exhibited a sense of blazing righteousness when he spoke of anything military. Actually, I disliked him a lot until I found out he loved Tennyson, and then we were good friends. I've tried to keep an eye on him since he got diagnosed.
ReplyDeleteCanadians are mad fun. Our personal Canadian is Guian Goulet. He even says "Sore-ry" instead of "sorry" and all that jazz. So authentic. :)
I'm confused now. If you don't know me from class, then where? We've only met...once. I think. Student park. Waaaay back when.
Oh my gee! Yeah, I remember the student park. And now that you mention english lit . . . I'm trying to place you. I can't remember things. Sorry, that was a while ago. Did the lost guy have a camo hat? That might be who you're talking about.
ReplyDeleteOn an unrelated side note, he wore that hat for his senior picture.
I basically am miniature Haluska, sans military service, wife, and sons. Janelle makes fun of me all the time. I pretty much agree with most of the things he says, so I don't grow much in his classes but BOY do I love them.
Have you noticed how some Canadians say "bag" with a long a? Like baeg? It's the thing I've noticed. Curtis did it.
Also, props on remembering the student park. I remember that Josh Walker and TQ were there, and other than that, I don't remember why I was there. Insert weird observation of your hands here.