Inexplicable

14:18, 22 April 2003

Why? Why does this happen to me? Anxiety stomach again. I don't understand! I'm not even stressed about anything! Sigh.

I went to the Women's Law Association luncheon. Ate about 1/3 cup chicken, 1/2 cup of sliced vegetables. That was forty-five minutes ago. For about twenty minutes now, the pressure-feeling has been rising in my stomach. It starts as a bloated, distended feeling, as when one eats too much Thanksgiving dinner. I feel like I want to unbutton my pants. I'm freezing cold, exhausted. My stomach is churning a bit now, nausea rising in waves over the steady pressure-feeling. Acid feeling in the back of my throat. I hate this.

I'm drinking a diet Coke now, hoping the carbonation might help burp out the pressure. I know this is such a disgusting topic, sorry. I'm in the library waiting for Piyush. I'm trying to think happy glowworm thoughts to quell the nausea, but it's not working so far. I feel, and probably look, like shit. I wonder how long until I throw up?

Thank You

12:02, 22 April 2003

God, I am in the best mood today. I'm smiling at everyone, saying "hi" to everyone in the hallways, etc. etc. OK, that sounds like normal behaviour, but normally I do the NYC no-eye-contact stalk. But I'm just a chipper little chickadee today. It has a lot to do with Piyush, that's true, but also, I really think I'm hypomanic. The spending, the drinking, the mood, the getting-by-on-little-sleep, the ease of restriction, the nail biting, the plethora of metaphors sprouting out of every sentence I say/write. Hypomania is fuuuuuuuuuuun! Fun fun fun till Daddy takes the T-bird away.

Valerie signed my guestbook to say I shouldn't feel bad about updating so often because it helps people understand their own lives from a different perspective when they read my diary. She said it was almost like a "public service"! That made me feel really good. I was thinking the other day about how much time I spend on Diaryland-related activities: updating, reading others' diaries, chatting with buddies, etc. At first I thought, "God, I waste so much time on that!" But then I thought, "That's not wasting time!" I was talking about diaryland the other day and all the great people I've met on it. My loyalists who support me and make me laugh and advise me and share my sorrows and my joys. In Sweden we say: "Shared sorrow is half sorrow, shared joy is double joy." This is so true about my Diaryland friends. I always talk about how I have no friends in my life (except Kristen, of course) but then I realised that all my Diaryland buddies are my friends, albeit not in a conventional sense. In a way, better friends for the reason that we all share equally our vulnerabilites and fears and so all stand on the same playing field. No one feels inferior or stupider or more fucked up than anyone else because we all have our problems and we all let down our walls in our diaries. So I realised that my Diaryland time is certainly not wasted time and has had/is having an extremely positive effect on my life. You guys really help me stay (quasi-)sane. Thanks.

OK, enough about you. Back to me! I forgot to mention, in my effusing about last night, that I was talking to P. Diddy about how I have trouble understanding how guys like me beyond my looks and he said, "[AKM], I think you are a fantastic person. Really. Fantastic." Now, that's not too specific, but I am definitely not complaining. I would say I went doughboy at that point, except I'm working hard on getting rid of the doughboy. Vivo suggested that I keep my happiness to a glow rather than the solar flare of the doughboy. (Funny that my fave restaurant is DOUGHBOYS! ahahha). So lets shoot for glowworm status, huh?

I also neglected to mention that in our hooking up, I was initiating so many of the kisses and I was the one who took my bra off and I was the one who took his shirt off. Are you all hearing this? ME. Sex-loathing me. The girl who cringes at holding hands. I wanted him. Is this that "horny" thing that you guys talk about sometimes? "It's a little bit funny / this feeling inside..." Ha ha ha. Spectacular spectacular. So you can all be so proud of me and I can be so glad that there's evidence that I will not be traumatised about sex for the rest of my life.

A, remove the fingernail of your left index finger from between your teeth, right now! Sorry, had to regulate for a sec.

So today I'm meeting P. Diddy after Gender class and we're going to study until the library closes. Can I kiss him in the library? I'm not so bold in the daytime in the decidely unromantic library group study rooms. Sober. I must assess the vibe before proceeding. Wait! Let me consult the oracle. "The strong thunder follows the delightful lake. That which is strong places itself under and follows that which is weak. Definitely Yes, especially if you follow." See, the magical cellphone wants me to wait and follow the vibe, too.

Delicious

07:14, 22 April 2003

Yum. Yum yum yum. He is so delicious. I was so worried that he'd be freaked out by my Saturday-night idiocy and so feel he'd need to ratchet back his affections for me, lest I become the classic psycho-bitch. Well, he didn't. And so I got to kiss him for hours last night and so I got to wake up smiling.

He called me while I was sleeping yesterday, while I was dreaming horrible dreams full of rapists and sushi. He told me to be ready in twenty minutes as he was taking me to dinner. He took me to Grand Lux Cafe, which I'm not even going to comment on since we all know I wasn't paying a smidge of attention to the food. We were just like before: talking, laughing, our legs touching under the table. When he got a second drink, I knew the night was ON. Hee hee hee.

"Do you still have that Bacardi at home?" Hell yeah! He's coming up! Hahaha. Up he comes, we drink and talk. I apologise for being a freakazoid the other day. He says the whole night was just doomed, for all involved. We talked about all sorts of things: graduation, what happens afterwards, etc. He admitted that he was sad we hadn't met earlier, that circumstance was forcing our hands the way it is doing. He called me both beautiful and gorgeous (I mean, obviously, but it's nice to hear it anyway, right? aahahaha).

But the best part. The very best part. I got kiss him, in all his deliciousness, forever. I told him how much I loved to kiss him, too. And we just hooked up and it was blissful. I gave him a back massage (and you guys have no idea how good I am at those, given my big strong Dad's-side-of-the-family hands). This time, incidentally, his hands began wandering... in-ter-esting... Nothing major, but second base was definitely reached. Ha haaha. And I didn't care. Because he is just that beautifully hot. I can't think of anyone else I'd like to feel me up.

OK, OK, OK. You all are thinking that I'm sounding dangerously doughboy here... and you're probably right. But at least I know and am acknowledging, in the back of my mind, that he is leaving and this is temporary. But fuuuuuuuuck... I'm going to have a damn good time with this while it lasts.

The World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893 was the world's most impressive and daring exposition, drawing half the nation's population and the attention of the world. It ran for six glorious months, it's beauty and grandeur splendid but temporary. All the buildings save one were destroyed by time, fire and general disrepair. But it was fun while it lasted. And so is this.

When do I get to kiss him again? Because I love that I love kissing him. I couldn't stop saying that last night. I have never wanted/liked to kiss a guy as much as I do him. Seriously. What the hell is my problem? I'm never like this. Ha! Not like I'm complaining.

Tra-la-la, I shall skip through my day until 3pm, when I shall see him in the library and we shall study and little happy dancing hippos shall frolic in my head and I shall have little sparklies swirling around me like Pepe Le Pew when he sees that cat-chick. The chance touching of our legs under a table or our arms on the armrest of his car shall drive me into insanities of internal smiling. And all the while, I know it's temporary and I shall enjoy the merry dance into the chasm whose approach I cannot slow.