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Saturday, 31 March 2012


After some input from A, this is the short story I handed in (and am quite happy with):

Inanimate objects are hardly inanimate at all. Whomever won’t admit to talking to a picture, asking a favour from an icon or wishing any of the objects around would suddenly react to thoughts and inner monologues should at least admit to have a friend of a friend who does such things.

Several stories prove it: there's the story of a young prince who was appointed as the pupil of a rock so he would learn not to ask questions; there’s the story of a philosopher who begged money from statues to get used to rejection. There's also the story of a hallow who made friends with the statue of a prince. The exchange between the two revealed that the statue could actually feel for the hallow and for the people around him.

When I was little I used to believe that all statues were like that of the prince: living beings trapped in a stone shell. I wondered if they got lonely and whether they could one day break out of their shells and be free. As all children are taught to do, I learned that such ideas are complete nonsense. Nevertheless, I sometimes comfort myself pretending they can hear my thoughts and confide in them, imagining their responses as I go along. I try to imagine what their personalities are like and frequent the ones I get along with the best.

There's this statue in particular... one that seemed to understand me better than the others. Rather than stay still, indifferent, it seemed to listen intently. I could see a faint smile trying to break through its stone lips when I came near. I saw the expression of its face change, if only ever so slightly, reacting to what I thought out loud. Had it been a person rather than a statue, you could have said it enjoyed my company and liked talking to me. I could fill in pages with conversations between us.

Over time, I grew attached to the statue.

Once, we sat and talked for hours. More than ever before. Dreams were shared and secrets confessed. This time there wasn't just a gleam in its eyes: more than faintly implied gestures, there were coherent thoughts expressed in a language more meaningful than the words used to shape it. While we talked the statue had a life of its own made up of more complex stories than I could ever imagine. It seemed to me that I could see who the statue really was and that, after all we'd talked, it knew me too. We felt close. When we stopped talking the silence was filled with a kiss and I left.

A few days later I made my way back to the statue, eager to talk again. However, when I arrived at the spot where it used to stand all I found was a small pile of rubble, accounting for only a fraction of what would have once made the whole statue.

Days went by.

Friday, 30 March 2012

Sorry, I'm feeling petty

So, um... sex. Do bear in mind that it's the sexually-liberated-prude-me who's talking here.

Remember N1? Things happened today. Quite a lot. Unlike A, N1 had the sense to enjoy herself. Not quite to go ahead and reciprocate, just like A. To the extent to which I dared ask and she was willing to answer, I gathered enough information to get me thinking. 

Is it not at least a little peculiar that she was so ready to let this guy touch her and I instinctively acted out against LesMisGuy ever-so-lightly running his fingertips up my thighs? Is it not also quite peculiar that both A and N1 were so averse to reciprocating while I'm only too willing to give it my all once it gets to that point? It's just that I can't quite allow myself to get there, it seems. Is that what's wrong with me?

Is that why LesMisGuy disappeared?

And, you know, I tell N1 I'm proud that she stopped things when she did because she was uncomfortable. I haven't told her, but I'm also quite proud of how liberated she was while it lasted. She really enjoyed it. I can't say I felt the same way with D. I can say I was really liking what was going on with LesMisGuy. I can't say why I stopped him. I don't know why I stopped him. I tell myself it's not supposed to matter, but I keep wondering: what if it did?

I can feel the connections being made in my brain even as she tells me. She was used to guys not talking to her after making out. She's making a huge deal out of him talking to her now. I almost want to tell her he's a liar and he can't mean anything good. And then I realise: I kissed LesMisGuy and nothing ensued from that but silence... I'll. be. damned.


On the one hand, SmTn was online today. Always puts a smile on my face. Never gets old. Today, I'm a whale!!! :)

On the other, four students of mine dropped the subject. Three of them I couldn't care a lot less about. One of them I'm quite sorry to know of. He actually worked on the exercises. He talked to me. He sought me out to ask me to explain things to him. And yet he did terribly in the exams. It seems that he wasn't quite grasping the concepts. I wish all his hard work had paid off, especially since a few bums suddenly turned up at the second exam (possibly cheating, but see if I care). I hope he gets to take the subject again, not with a professor who will award easy grades, but with a professor who can really teach him so he can really learn (for I think he can really learn and not just memorize algorithms). 

I realise I could probably care less and yet I don't. I'm attached and I'm not really supposed to. An article I read a while ago tells me it's because I'm taking the teaching practice as a career, not just a job. I really have to get myself a PhD, don't I?

Thursday, 29 March 2012


I told N1 off on Wednesday night. I'd had enough of her drama, to be honest, pretending her already good situation is somehow bad and expecting validation I get tired of providing and failing to provide truthfully. Among other things, I pointed out her "being scared" to read a sex fantasy isn't so much fear as an adrenaline burst, which can be caused by fear among other things (hers would be one of those other things). Why bring up fear?

As I walked (only just a tad bit late) to today's topology partial exam, I walked past LesMisGuy. Like last time, I almost had an instinct to say hi. Unlike last time, I was running the fuck away from him as soon as possible. I know I saw him and took a dive to the right to get lost in the crowd. I know that when I arrived at the topology exam my hands were shaking and it was a good 20min before that stopped. Then I started thinking about it too much, as I always do with such things... He wasn't wearing "regular" clothes, you see. He was dressed in a particularly smart fashion. Buttoned light blue shirt, with a grey sweater over it. I'm going to stop myself short right there before I reproduce any of the only too expectable nonsense that poured out of my brain upon realising that fact. The point I was trying to make is that my case isn't one due to a simple adrenaline burst. I actually followed an immediate instinct to run the fuck away. What does that tell you?

Wednesday, 28 March 2012

An oxymoron

Just out of an exercise session to prepare for the topology exam tomorrow. I figured I'd sit down somewhere with a chair and a table, so I found the nearest building on my way out that met those requirements. There is a row of wide columns, a table with chairs on one of the sides of each column, classrooms and long benches parallel to the columns on the other side. All tables were empty and all I had to do was choose one. Would have been as easy as sitting on the nearest one to the exit but for one thing: a couple was making out in one of the benches. Being away from them made them that much more visible. The only way to avoid seeing them altogether was to sit right next to them. Closer is farther away. The closer I am to the kiss, the farther away I am from it. It seemed poetic enough to warrant a short post. I'm almost tempted to explain... but then I'd lose power for concision. Let's pretend I learned something from Chekhov.

Tuesday, 27 March 2012


Love life blank. Not really an issue, ever. But suddenly, N1 has a guy she's sexting with and I feel like I've really done nothing with my life because by comparison to her now I really am a prude. Yes, I realise it's a very petty attitude: setting the bar  for low at N1's level and feeling that I've really hit bottom when even N1 is doing better than me. Petty. 

Not contributing to my foul mood is the fact that I attempted to start a conversation with EBF. I made three bullet points. One to tell him I'd aced the solitaire game he linked me to, another to let him know about N1 sexting a guy (a milestone on its own) and a third to tell him I've changed my short story and could use some feedback. He acted amazed at my having aced the game and then the conversation died. And now I feel idiotic for trying to talk to him, leave alone ask a favour from him. Even though it seems he only talks to me to ask me to do shit for him. Suddenly when I do it it's just so wrong. Even though writing and sending each other what we wrote wasn't quite so unusual, back in the day... Fuck. *bangs head against a wall repeatedly*


Peculiar dream last night. I've forgotten it almost completely now, but I remember one thing: I was going away to China this weekend. On the same day as EBF, but not really with him as much as no the same day. I agreed to meet A and EBF before leaving as some kind of farewell. I think I ended up ditching A to be with EBF. The last I remember is being on the plane.

Monday, 26 March 2012

Beach, math reunion

There are three dreams I remember from last night:

1) I was at the beach with the girls. I remember having to change, and shower, and what a hassle it all was. I wanted to shower, and had to pick up my things to do so, but I kept picking up things that weren't my own and I had to keep going back to leave them where they were. Very awkward. 

2) I was with a small group of people, children included, and we were walking dogs. At one point I believe I rode a dog (my little one, if I remember correctly) like you'd ride a horse. I even remember wondering if it wouldn't hurt her back. I remember talk of how other people hurt their dogs to get them to obey. It was quite horrifying.

3) I was in a very large country house, the kind only found in towns, except possibly 3-4 times bigger. Why bigger? It was to host a very large reunion. At first I thought it was just a meal at an old woman's house, the old woman who has been friends with my parents for years. But when we arrived, my parents and I split and I was told to make conversation with some young man about my age. He walked and I followed until we reached a new set of tables which were mostly empty. We sat and others arrived. People who were studying maths with me and elsewhere. I recognised the guy who's a bit older than me and went to school1. I expected LesMisGuy to drop by any minute. He didn't. 

Sunday, 25 March 2012

Craving for Cyrano

I, uh... well, I took the weekend off. I'll regret it, I'm sure, as I always do. I watched House M.D. until I ran out of available episodes to watch. And now I'm in the mood for a film. On Friday I'd gotten it into my head to watch a musical. Maybe Victor/Victoria, Mary Poppins, or even The Phantom of the Opera. But I changed my mind... One of the many texts I'm supposed to read includes a text by Italo Calvino. He mentions a great number of books and authors. The one that struck a chord with me was Cyrano de Bergerac. Yes, because LesMisGuy mentioned him and having memorised the lines where Cyrano defends his nose. I was in the mood for Cyrano, then. I'm just hoping the version I found has subtitles, or I'll be at quite a loss... Shame that the version I first found isn't available any more.

I wish I could say it means nothing, and that I was just in the mood for French romance, but there's an unmistakable influence from the vague memories of LesMisGuy I still hold a bit too dearly. I must confess I half-expected a phone call, and even brought my phone with me to a family reunion yesterday. Might have something to do with a call I missed on Friday night around 10pm from an unknown number. Gears started turning... It's more likely that was CtThumbe calling to invite me to some farewell party or other, as she's leaving this Thursday. I feel like I should defend myself and state that somewhere deep inside I do, after all, realise that this thing with LesMisGuy is beyond hopeless. I feel like I should somehow leave in writing the fact that I don't really expect anything to happen. I feel like... I suppose mostly I feel stupid.

[12:49pm edit, the next day]
I downloaded the film. I sort of had to. And now I feel a silly need to copy a few of the script's lines. Bear with me. Or don't.

ROXANE (s'avançant sur le balcon):
  C'est vous ?
  Nous parlions de. . .de. . .d'un. . .

  Baiser ! Le mot est doux.
  Je ne vois pas pourquoi votre lèvre ne l'ose;
  S'il la brûle déjà, que sera-ce la chose ?
  Ne vous en faites pas un épouvantement:
  N'avez-vous pas tantôt, presque insensiblement,
  Quitté le badinage et glissé sans alarmes
  Du sourire au soupir, et du soupir aux larmes !
  Glissez encore un peu d'insensible façon:
  Des larmes au baiser il n'y a qu'un frisson !

  Taisez-vous !

  Un baiser, mais à tout prendre, qu'est-ce ?
  Un serment fait d'un peu plus près, une promesse
  Plus précise, un aveu qui veut se confirmer,
  Un point rose qu'on met sur l'i du verbe aimer;
  C'est un secret qui prend la bouche pour oreille,
  Un instant d'infini qui fait un bruit d'abeille,
  Une communion ayant un goût de fleur,
  Une façon d'un peu se respirer le cœur,
  Et d'un peu se goûter, au bord des lèvres, l'âme !

  Eh bien ! montez cueillir cette fleur sans pareille. . .

CYRANO (poussant Christian vers le balcon):
  Monte !

  Ce goût de cœur. . .

  Monte !

  Ce bruit d'abeille. . .

  Monte !

CHRISTIAN (hésitant):
  Mais il me semble, à présent, que c'est mal !

  Cet instant d'infini !. . .

CYRANO (le poussant):
  Monte donc, animal !
  (Christian s'élance, et par le banc, le feuillage, les piliers,
  atteint les balustres qu'il enjambe.)

  Ah, Roxane !
  (Il l'enlace et se penche sur ses lèvres.)

Saturday, 24 March 2012

Old nazi and a dead wolf

I don't think I've slept this much (12h) in a long time... Here's what I remember from last night's dreams:

In one, SmTn had sent me a video of himself hunting.  He was in a forest, naked, with a wolf's skin to "dress" him (really, it was just the wolf's head on his head and everything hanging willy nilly from there). I censored my dream, I noticed, because 1) he was almost always on his side or on his back, and 2) the video quality made it impossible to make out anything other tan blurs. So there's that.

In another dream there was a dying old man. A horrible nazi man at  that. I remember I felt like I had to save him no matter how horrible a person I was (and here I was it thinking it was only doctors who do such things begrudgingly). I gave him CPR (to the best of my non-existing abilities) and I actually succeeded in bringing him to. Not sure what else happened in that dream, but I remember NtP fighting with some girl or other. 

Thursday, 22 March 2012

Introducing (apparently), NtP

So... I didn't manage to find any record of being annoyed by him before. Let's summarise: he has no sense of personal space, leans over me, asks for hugs, calls me "sexy," and may be nice enough but I can't stand him over long periods of time because he's impossibly hyperactive. Him? I'm supposed to be doing my teaching practice project with him. Big fail. We're already late. He's also in my topology class. During the break we talked about the project. He noticed I've got doodles on the margins of my notebook and flipped around pages until he managed to come to the bits where I didn't manage making sure they were illegible. Which is to say he found the "I love you LesMisGuy" bits. He oohed and aahed and I felt incredibly stupid and embarrassed. I pretty much slammed the notebook on him and asked him to focus on the project. I was paranoid the rest of the class and tried to discretely flip through the pages to find the references to LesMisGuy and delete them. I realised much later that it's probably silly to be so embarrassed, but it's also very silly to write such stupid things on my notebook. Point at hand? I am now ashamed of fancying LesMisGuy. Won't help matters one bit, I reckon.

A kiss, long longings, and death

Very straight-forward post today. First, there's the fact that I stayed late yesterday to teach a young man linear algebra (for money, of course). When we stopped, we waited around for a bit before he left and I decided to wait out the traffic jams a little longer. A friend of his ran into us and greeted me with a kiss. An actual kiss on the cheek at that. My first in... ages, I reckon. It's been so long it's post-worthy. Go figure...

On other news, also late, I had this feeling most of yesterday afternoon and today like I just might run into LesMisGuy. Moreover, I started to long to be with him and kiss him. It gets old, I know, but I can't seem to help myself. 

Oh, I know what doesn't help one bit either. That student of mine who looks a lot like LesMisGuy? 1) He has a girlfriend. How do I know? Because 2) I keep running into him around campus. It's awesome that he has a girlfriend, I'm sure they're both lovely, but I'd rather not have it shoved in my face because I can't help but wish that were me and LesMisGuy (too, not instead, I'm not that selfish). 

The last bit of news is that a young man committed suicide yesterday afternoon. He jumped off from one of the university buildings. The glimpses I've had at others' reactions range from "that's awful" to "why make such a big deal out of it?". The news article that first announced his death didn't quite say he jumped from one of the university's buildings, but it's clear he couldn't have jumped from any other high place (as there are none around the area). We received an official e-mail on behalf of the university rector and after clearing up the fact that the young man was not, in fact a student of our university, the message ended with a statement of how the university contacted the authorities pertinently. I didn't know this young man. I do know his death was given a very strange treatment: his death is something embarrassing to our university and it would seem the institution passed off the problem to someone else while stating they had nothing to do with the young man. A few students morbidly recall the fact like it meant nothing. Some try to be too affected by his death. He's the one who died, you know, and no one has ventured a guess as for what went wrong with it.

I had a dream about the whole thing last night. In my dream I questioned how none of the building's watchmen saw him, how no one was looking at the video footage of him in the terrace about to jump, how it wasn't quite so late that the terrace would be empty. I was furious, demanding to know who's fault it was that the young man had killed himself. I woke up to such thoughts today and I'm now a bit appalled by the general reaction of everyone. Even my literature professors almost mentioned the subject, hinting at a possible comical effect, and stopped themselves short, leaving enough of a pause to show they were thinking about it. It was all very strange... 

On a small ranting note, N1 is making me want to puke with the revoltingly "sweet" exchanges between her and the new guy. 

Tuesday, 20 March 2012

Story in the making - statue

Before I get started with the intended post, two things. 1) I'm still failing miserably at attempting to start conversations with EBF and 2) I'm still quite jealous of N1. As a side note, CtW didn't take the money today because I offered early but she hoped to see me late after our last class and I went to look for her but she wasn't there and I called and it turns out I called the wrong number. Put off until tomorrow.

We get a chance to write a short story or an analysis of two short stories. To be honest, I figured I'd go for the analysis straight away and didn't even bother raising my hand when our professor asked who would be writing a short story by show of hands. I'm tempted, though, so it can't hurt to give it a go in the blog and see if it's any good by the time I'm done, right? After reading Cortázar's take on short stories and how they can be manifestations of fights against demons, I picked my poison and started thinking of stories to tell that would include a fantastic element. Here goes, then...  a first rough draft.

Inanimate objects are hardly inanimate at all, you know. You would know, as it's likely enough you've found yourself talking to a picture, asking a favour from an icon or wishing any of the objects around you would suddenly react to your thoughts and inner monologues. If you haven't, you're a liar. You should at least admit you have a friend of a friend who does such things and agree with me that such things happen on a regular basis.

If you still don't believe me, believe in the literature that backs up my claim. For one, there's the story of a young prince who was appointed as the pupil of a rock. Why, you ask? Well, if you'd had a rock as your teacher you'd already know that: so he would learn not to ask questions. For a more modern example, there's the story of a hallow who made friends with the statue of a prince. The exchange between the two revealed that the statue could actually feel for the hallow and for the people around him. Ah, but you don't really like literature... What about history, then? Diogenes of Sinope was known for begging money from statues. To get used to the rejection, they say.

I take it that you believe me now. Now that you believe, I can only ask you to understand. If you can't understand, it will only be polite to listen.

I used to believe, when I was little, that all statues were like the statue of the happy prince: living beings trapped in an impossibly rigid shell. I used to wonder if they got lonely and sometimes talked to them to keep them company. I wondered if maybe they would some day break out of their shells and be free, and I wondered what it would take to make them free. As all children do, I learned that such ideas are complete nonsense and gave up on keeping them company just like I gave up on ever learning to fly. Nevertheless, I sometimes comfort myself pretending they can hear my thoughts and confide in them, imagining their responses as I go along. I try to imagine what their personalities are like and frequent the ones I get along with the best. It's the adult version of an imaginary friend, I guess.

There's this statue in particular... one that seemed to understand me better than the others. I could swear I saw the expression of its face change, reacting to what I thought out loud. I could fill in entire conversations between us, and I grew so close to the statue I felt like I could tell it anything, like it would, too, let me in on its innermost secrets. I grew attached to the statue.

This one time we sat there and talked for hours. More than before, there wasn't just a gleam in its eyes, or micro-expressions on its face, it was genuinely interacting with me and taking as its own the words I imagined uttered by its lips. We talked for hours. We shared secrets. We grew close. When we stopped talking I filled in the silence with a kiss and left. A few days later I made my way back to the statue, eager to talk again, eager to talk about the kiss. When I arrived at the spot where it used to stand, all I found was a small pile of rubble, accounting for only a fraction of what would have once made the whole statue. Days went by.


Peculiar dream last night. I remember staring at a clock on a wall and being asked what time it really was according to some weird Mary Poppins world math logic. There was a young man next to me and he told some kind of rhyme by heart which described exactly what time it was (1pm, I believe, though the clock showed 7pm). I remember thinking "oh, wow, I could almost fall for him" and then realising I couldn't, in fact, fall for him. I tried to imagine kissing him, but I couldn't do so much as remember his face. Only LesMisGuy's face came to mind. I woke up with the "Chim-chim-cheree" song stuck in my head today.

Monday, 19 March 2012

Portuguese man-of-war

Because I'm jelly, as in... I'm jealous? Too much of a stretch?

Things seem to be really working out with N1 and the new guy. Let's hope I'm not right about him being an idiot. He's acting interested. He tries to talk about her work and be excited about it. He openly said he'd like to cuddle with her and kiss her. They're getting together this weekend to watch a movie and cuddle. 

I'm grading partial exams, failing miserably at attempting to start a conversation with EBF about that, and trying to be excited about N2 when all I can do is think "Damn it! Why didn't LesMisGuy act interested like that?!"... incidentally, while trying to figure out if AOB wants to hook up with CtThumbe. He wants her help with something. Specifically her help, it seems, under the disguise of wanting help with some study or other. After meeting her and hearing her talk about something he thinks has to do with the study... If he does like her, I want to play matchmaker with them. She's awesome, and he's awesome. They wouldn't exactly be a perfect match (that would be EBF and CtThumbe) but they'd definitely deserve one another, you know? How long do you suppose it will be before either of them has a shot at being with someone that smart and nice?... Oh dear... this vicarious life really isn't the thing for me, is it?

[10:00pm edit]
I again attempted to talk to EBF, to comment on the exams again. FAIL. He said he has to go to sleep. DOUBLEPLUSFAIL. N1 said the same thing, in the span of less than a minute. And I'm left with 13 exams to grade. And I have to read a short story by Chekhov. And I'm so VERY tired. Fuck.

Money, money, money, money

CtW just asked me to lend her money. Quite a bit. Everything I made the past three days teaching (she actually asked for a bit more but that's all I could offer). I actually offered the money. Asked if it's cool if I give it to her tomorrow. I didn't ask what she needs the money for, as it would seem rude. She seems to be in a bit of a hurry. She asked for the earliest time I can meet her. I'm conflicted. Yes, she was embarrassed to ask. Yes, she paid back the little money I lent her the other day for a bus ride because she didn't have spare change. It's bugging me, if only a tiny bit, that I gave her a bit too much money for just coffee, a cheap souvenir and a shipping fee for SmTn's gift. Unless he got two bags of coffee... but from the sounds of it, it's just the one. And there was no cheap souvenir, so there should be a little money left. I haven't dared mention it. Maybe there wasn't so much money left, I don't know. 

I do know that this is the first time I lend anyone this much money and I'm a tiny bit uneasy about it. I'm a little surprised by how I knew she'd ask for big money and I didn't really hesitate before I said no. I came up with a few worst case scenarios where she just runs off with the money but ruled them out as a bit outlandish and far-fetched. I debated with myself about whether or not I should ask for EBF's advice, whether or not I should ask him if it was stupid to lend the money and if I'm right thinking it would have been rude to ask what it's for. Deep down a part of me is trying to stick to the idea that if you're in need you should be able to rely in people without having to answer any questions. I suppose I'm doing unto her what I would wish done unto me. Sort of. 

I just hope the parents don't ask for that money any time soon. CtW said she'd pay back in two weeks. Unless I get paid from university in the meantime, that means I could be short on money. Even if I did take the precaution of leaving enough for two weeks' worth of bus rides clear. You see? This is what annoys me a bit. I can't really spare the money, but I figure she needs it more than I do and we're not such close friends, to be honest, but I feel like I have to be a good friend and help her without questioning her motives. I don't think A or EBF have ever asked such favours from me. I don't think they ever will. I wonder why CtW asked me, too. Doesn't she have anyone else to ask? What about her parents? Her brother? And she mentioned she was selling these shirts and blouses... what about that money? I'm at a loss... 

My father the ogre

And not a funny one or even one with a Scottish accent like Shrek. The old man grows old, and as he grows older he grows more easier to upset, easier to annoy, easier to piss off. I wouldn't know where he gets the false sense of self-righteousness, but he surely has nothing to back it up on and he seems to believe he's right where everyone else is wrong all the time. Very annoying. 

Not just that, though. Last night I was teaching maths, right? And they weren't quite offering to give me a ride so come 10pm I felt it was already quite late and called my parents so they'd pick me up. Not too big a deal... it wasn't that late, right? They picked me up and when we got back the watchman didn't open. He was nowhere to be seen. My dad honked, turned the car lights on and off and we waited for a good 15min or so. We figured maybe he was walking around the neighbourhood, taking a check on the houses but even then he was taking too long. My mum offered to get out of the car, even though it was raining, to go see what was up. My dad got out himself and started screaming in a fit how he was going to tell off the watchman when he got back. It turned out the watchman was right next to the gates, asleep. The old man yelled at him and called him names. 

You wouldn't expect such treatment to anyone after the abolition of slavery, but there he was yelling at the watchman and feeling entitled to do so. I'll agree the watchman shouldn't have fallen asleep on the job. I realise the dangers that brings. But the old man knows as well as I do that the three of them are working very long shifts (illegally long shifts) and it's only quite natural they should fall asleep. Granted, they should wake up when people come by, but there's nothing the watchman did that could deserve him such horrible treatment on my dad's part. Actually, no one in this day and age should ever be afraid of receiving such treatment and no one in this day and age should feel entitled to treat others like that. My mum honked the car to make my dad stop, but he made it all the way to the house in a fit. It's ridiculous. The old man turns more and more into a stupid ogre over time. It's not a pretty picture.

Also aggravating? Yesterday he asked how much I was being paid to teach maths to my cousins' cousin. What's it to him, anyway? He asked if other maths teachers earned more money. I reckoned they probably make double what I ask for. He asked if it was a price I set or one they offered to pay. I said it was me who put that price on my time. My mum tried to help out pointing out the fact that they pick me up and drop me off, they offer me food and are in general quite nice to me. There's no talking that much sense/humility into the old man's head: he's pimping me and expected me to make more money. Goodness knows what he'd want my hard-earned money for, but he sure as fuck does not get to have an opinion on whether or not I'm being paid enough or how much my time is worth or how I get to spend the money they pay me. 

Enough ranting for now. On to last night's dreams.... Before I start I ought to point out I had some meaningful dream or other the night before last but I just can't remember a thing.

As for last night... I remember rich men wanting to buy big houses not so far from Ctg, in the very poor neighbourhoods you see from boats as you ride out to the nearby islands. I remember one of them being about to be ripped off because he'd talked to a man who had offered to sell his house very cheap and was nowhere to be found because he probably wanted to make get more money out of it. I remember talking to the rich man and telling him we could always try to track down the house and the man he talked to, in case he could be held to his word. I also remember pointing out that very few people over there could be taken on their words. I don't know what happened in the rest of that dream.

I remember another dream where I went to what was supposed to be LesMisGuy's place. His mum was there. She greeted my sister and I and let us make ourselves comfortable to watch a film or play some videogames. I expected LesMisGuy would be there and I wanted to see him, but he wasn't home. I also remember reading brochures about adopting a cat (for when I leave). 

It seems to me now that I've been dreaming quite a bit about LesMisGuy lately, even if I can't remember the dreams he's in. I don't suppose it makes sense to say I almost feel like I'm finally getting myself used to the idea that nothing will happen but then I have dreams about the exact opposite and I don't know what to make of them. Well, not dreams about the exact opposite... not quite. Rather, I dream dreams that remind me just how much I'm still thinking of LesMisGuy and how badly I still want to see him and be near him. It's no better. 

Saturday, 17 March 2012

Friend fail

It's A's birthday today, you know. I've had it in mind since yesterday. But I didn't dare talk to her and ask what she was planning to do today and auto-invite myself. It's almost certain she'll be out with friends tonight and I just don't quite mesh in such situations. I didn't manage to text her, or call her, or even leave a message earlier today. Yesterday I was exhausted. I fell asleep quite early and woke up early today to go babysit my students' partial exam. So early I forgot my earrings and, more importantly, my phone. After that I didn't come here but instead went to my cousin's cousin's house to teach her maths. I only got back a half hour ago. Not exactly ideal. I almost fell asleep teaching her. Goodness... 

As a tiny bit of not really news, I wanted to point out two things: the first is that yesterday the friend LesMisGuy was walking around with the other day saw me (and I saw him), from a distance. I noticed him noticing me (rather than just looking past me). I had a moment there where I was very paranoid thinking "he knows..." Because I figured he probably knows LesMisGuy and I kissed. Moreover, he may even know what the fuck went wrong/is wrong with me. I felt horribly notorious for all the wrong reasons, and genuinely embarrassed of being seen by him. It's probably why I have the vague recollection of having had a dream about LesMisGuy. I just don't remember what the dream was.

Thursday, 15 March 2012


Just out of teaching practice class I walked out with the two guys working alongside me and left them at the bottom of a flight of stairs as I made my way to the topology classroom. Lo and behold! LesMisGuy was there walking and chatting with some guy friend. If he noticed me, he made a point out of ignoring me. I almost raised my left hand in case he did look straight at me and I felt it rude to go without at least greeting him from a distance. I whispered "Scheiße!" a few steps later and felt my heart racing. I couldn't help myself, so I walked into the bathroom to take a quick look at my old women's oversized sweater and ugly shoes. I also couldn't help myself so I'm typing about this all now. I do believe I deserve at least a little credit for snapping out of the freak out so soon. And SmTn is online now. Good. :)

Wednesday, 14 March 2012

Tired (not exactly news)

Long day today. Woke up at 5am to teach my 7am class. Very unexciting. I do hope my students don't do quite so badly in the next exam. Goodness knows I've worked too hard for them... but there's just no helping a bad professor and I believe I'll soon enough fuck up my teaching practice class at the rate she's going. I've realised she's actually expecting us to do an awful lot more than she's "lawfully allowed to" for a three credit class. I'm overworking and even that is not enough by the stupid standards she wants (and can't stick to). Very frustrating, really. 

Nevertheless, I've done my best to be quite on time with as much as I can this week. I've already finished reading the Spanish Tragedy. I read the stories by Chekhov I'd written down on my notebook (and it turns out we had quite a few more to read). I've yet to read for the teaching practice quiz tomorrow. I've yet to start preparing the essay we're supposed to write in pairs tomorrow morning. I really wish I'd got to work with the young man who asked for a partner at the end of Tuesday's class but he didn't seem to notice me and then it seemed rude to say no to the girl who asked me to work with her. I hope she's not an idiot and/or that she's read all we're supposed to have read. There's only so much I can do to catch up with all the theory I'm lagging behind on.

I spent all day (and skipped German class) working on the topology homework assignment due in on Friday. I'm almost done, where almost is nowhere near enough considering I have to prepare the teaching practice project and study for the German exam on Friday. 

I was at the maths department all day today, rather unusually. I didn't actually work with anyone, though. It seemed strange to butt into other people's work, and I even refused to listen to what they were saying. There's only one thing to be noted of my stay in the maths department: SweetGuy was there. He greeted me with a "what are you doing here? you're supposed to be gone already!" and then a little later a "bonjour!", as always, with a lovely smile. I know I thought to myself je lui adore! and wished there were some way for me to make his day at least a fraction of how awesome he makes my days when he greets me. He really is that nice. 

I left university after 7pm and got on the wrong bus. I was very distracted, apparently. Not nearly distracted enough to miss the middle aged pervert right next to me staring at my ass in spite of the numerous "do you fucking mind?!" looks I gave him. Quite frankly infuriating. More so the fact that I think he was trying to lightly touch my ass with the hand he kept in his pocket. You know how I know? I'm far too tall and I was standing far away enough that I know it wasn't his elbow and I know he couldn't have possibly accidentally pushed against me with his hand in his pocket. There really is no excuse for such rude behaviour. 

While it makes me love SweetGuy all the more (if possible), it still upsets me. The whole thing, I guess.

Tuesday, 13 March 2012


I had a dream last night where I was with the guys from the physics department. In particular, I was with the girls and we'd baked cupcakes and I set out to find one of the guys to give it to him. When I reached the place where they were, a room not so unlike a classroom except they were  chatting around a small table and drinking (soft drinks? beer?). Lo and behold! SmTn was with them. I waved as I walked by and kept looking for the guy I was supposed to give the cupcake to. I remember thinking "well, now I won't have to device a way to send a hug on the post," but I never actually gave him a hug. I do remember I ended up giving him the cupcake (yellow and bright pink frosting). A girl was sitting next to him and took the cupcake from him. I was at list a little bit annoyed by this. I wondered if it was SmTn's girlfriend, but her shape shifted to a girl with black hair who showed us a stop motion video made with Barbie dolls... the video made absolutely no sense to me, whatsoever.

As is a habit by now, I was writing on the margins of my notebook. LesMisGuy's name, as usual, letters overlapping so it was completely impossible to read by the time I'd written down his whole name. Out of nowhere I wrote down SmTn's name too, twice. I then doodled a tiny bit more, really just doodling. And then I looked down and realised I'd pretty much sketched the silhouette of a man, the doodles corresponding to SmTn's name where the face and chest would be, and LesMisGuy's name in a much bigger mess, near the hips. I found it curious. 

Sunday, 11 March 2012

Past life

SmTn liked Mercedes Sosa. He said it made him feel nostalgic. I pointed out he was probably an Argentinian cowboy in a past life. He showed me the song "Wuthering Heights" by Kate Bush. Too awesome. 

On to another subject: last night's dreams. I had a dream where my mum and my sister were at the beauty salon and the hairdresser cut their hair and did very intricate hairdos on them with hair extensions and glitter and colouring. He also did their make up for free. Very punk, very 80s (suddenly it's a bit coincidental that SmTn was in an 80s mood today). I also remember waiting for them at some event where I was wearing a fake Oscar de la Renta dress. It was a hideous royal blue and pine green dress. And I was trying to make it look less fake by adding some black detail at the bottom of the long skirt. I vaguely remember having a conversation with someone about the need for fake dresses and how there were very many more women wearing fakes than you'd expect. Coincidentally, my mum had a dream where an old college classmate of hers had blue and green crazy hair.

[10:19pm edit]
I was trying to read on, Thomas Kyd's Spanish Tragedy, when I noticed that to Kyd Italian people are too similar to the Spanish people, just like moors and black people were all the same to Shakespeare. I opted for telling EBF about it, and we had a short chat about ignorance, racism (being based on equality, everyone else's) and how he's a citizen of the world. He just said he had to go to sleep because he has two tests tomorrow. Before leaving he thanked me for the Shakesperean critique. I said he was welcome but can't seem to make any sense of his thanks. 

Thursday, 8 March 2012

Girrrrl Power!!!

Milestone: LesMisGuy is no longer a facebook friend. 

I do reckon I felt a bit hypocritical when I told JJ he could just delete the girl that torments him so from his friends list, instead of shutting down his whole account. I'm trying to act strong and stick to it, see if the strong sticks on me.

I have to admit I feel guilty because I still keep some hope and I still want to see him around university and have everything magically work out. In the meantime, it figures having the temptation so close at hand is just not healthy. He's no longer a facebook friend and, as I understand it, that's final.

As for the title... Get it?!

Call me Riabovitch

I had a dream last night where SmTn's package arrived and turned out to be a piano (electronic), in a box much like mine. Except this was somehow his and "smelled like him" (though I can't actually remember his smell). All I know is I remember thinking "even if it is second-hand, this is just too much."

Next up I showed up for class. The first literature class was almost unbearable with the constant talking and talking and talking on the professor's part. I realise he almost always does this but it's usually a talk that I can learn from. Today I was just annoyed. I noticed myself getting hyped up, heart racing, uneasy and anxious for no reason. I wondered if it could somehow indicate I'd be meeting LesMisGuy and set to work on thinking of what I'd do if I ran into him and he asked to talk to me. I settled for answering (hypothetically) with a question: "Can I kiss you?". Because it's my fantasy he would answer that's what he was aiming at and we could do the talking after the fact. I know it's a bit silly to put down the fantasy here and now but bear with me and my superstitions. I had a hunch that I might see him. I really wanted to see him.

In the Russian literature class the first of Chekhov's stories we discussed (and the only one, as no one had been reading) was "The Kiss." I hadn't read it, but the re-telling and then the actual reading seemed also very symbolic to me. First off, because we started the class talking about "The Kiss" just like I intended to start my fantasy scenario by kissing LesMisGuy. But then, I started to relate to the story: the kiss was a mistake made in the dark, goodness knows by whom, and going mad about it (though natural to an extent) is just silly.

It got the idea into my head that LesMisGuy and I kissing was a mistake. On my part, always. On his part too, maybe, if he had/has a girlfriend. I realised it would explain that cryptic message I mentioned a while back. It could mean I'm his fuck up and it's still no good for my self-esteem, but I could at least contemplate the idea that it was not my mistake alone and he was wrong not to say anything. It's also an explanation that would survive Occam's Razor, I think, when you consider he'd already admitted to cheating before. I'm still a fool, and it was still very foolish to make so much of it, which is why that Chekhov story made so much sense to me.

Admittedly, this realisation had me in a miserable state even a talk with SmTn couldn't make me snap out of.

On another subject, today's soundtrack was Sarah Jaffe's "Summer Begs."

Wednesday, 7 March 2012

You'd think it will all be his fault, wouldn't you?

I had a dream last night I suddenly only just remembered. I was engaged to be married to a woman 2-5 years younger than me. She wanted her parents' blessing and got it, except her parents thought we weren't serious. Come the time for the actual wedding they were hell-bent on stopping us. I remember talking to her father and telling her I understood if he thought I'd turn her into a lesbian, which was exactly the case, but not to fear. Truth is, even uttering the words out loud hurt me horribly. My parents were also noticeably upset, in particular my father. He was almost in tears upon realising that I wasn't so much bisexual as a full-blown lesbian and could not by any means be fixed. As I remember it, I wasn't too particularly fond of this girl. She was darker than me, perhaps as dark as my sister, had long, straight black hair, a small frame and a pretty-ish face. I wasn't uber-excited about marrying her. I just felt that I had to, as some kind of moral obligation or something, and I intended to pull through on a matter of honour. 

Can't help but point out that if I do, by any chance, end up being a lesbian and these dreams are any indication of it (though I'm still not that into girls in my dreams), LesMisGuy will have been the guy who converted me.

Unwanted attention

Here's the thing about attention: I don't like it. I don't like it when people stare at me, I don't like it when I have to speak in class, I don't like it when someone insists on making me notorious. I volunteered when our Russian narrative professor asked for Dostoievski's books and offered the Karamazov brothers. He asked what about it, and I answered it was a very dense book, and that a fragment as short as the story of the inquisitor warranted a whole movie. He asked if I remembered who'd killed Mr. Karamazov. I answered the epileptic man. I hesitated. I realised after the fact that he thought I hadn't read the book, because the question was rather pointless. I keep wondering why he'd do that, quite so tastelessly. I know I've been avoiding him if only a little because I'm still not a fan of him coming up to me and insisting on talking, but coming at me like that was a tiny bit mean when I'm trying to participate. 

That was yesterday. Today JJ called at noon and asked me to join him for lunch. I was about to open my sandwich so I told him I'd have my sandwich with him if he didn't mind. We ran into two friends of his as we walked out. We ended up having lunch together. It all made me wonder if JJ had been trying to get me to have lunch with him, just the two of us. I think he made that fairly clear when he bragged to Mt. I pointed out my arms were sunburnt (they are) and JJ said it was probably from when I had lunch with him and tried to drive the point home. Which did, admittedly take a bit of a hit on Mt. This is all very uncomfortable. It's even worse when you add in the fact that JJ apparently tells all of his friends about me, because it's happened quite a few times already that they say I'm all he ever talks about. Awkward.

Monday, 5 March 2012


It would be rude not to be thankful. I skipped going to university today to German class, "to write my paper due in tomorrow." JJ just called to check in on me and let me know we'll have a quiz on Wednesday. It was nice of him. I'll make nothing of it. I'm not sure why I half-expected it to be LesMisGuy. Silly me... 

Sunday, 4 March 2012


I'm pretty much out of words. I've taken the weekend off almost completely and it will bite me in the ass tomorrow because I have to hand in an essay on Tuesday. 

Let's catch up a bit, shall we? I got out to buy SmTn's book on Friday during my time off, which went fairly well. The book was a bit expensive, considering it was a cheap-looking book in cheap paper and a cheap cover, but it's the only one they had and was coincidentally the same translation EBF had vouched for when I asked his opinion. I had it packed as a gift. I asked CtW if it would be ok to send it with her boyfriend, and he was waiting for her outside our combinatorics class so I got to ask him directly. He agreed. He left yesterday. Very nice guy. They even agreed to buy the bags of coffee for me, so I just gave CtW more than enough money and asked her boyfriend to please ship something very cliché and British with my gift. He again said it was no problem. I only forgot to send in the hand-written letter, which very much sucks. But it would seem that my mum's friend might be in the city for a while, so I just may be able to ask her to send my letter with another bag of coffee. Maybe.

CtW asked if I'd like to go out with her and some friends of hers to send her boyfriend off. We met at a pub. I had a beer and nachos. CtW did her best to make sure I managed to socialise, which was very nice of her. I was dead tired but overall had a fairly good time. I'll have to ask CtW how they worked out the bill problems... She tagged me on facebook as having been at the pub with her and her friends, you know? I got back here, went online and found that around the time when I was tagged LesMisGuy had liked a video, the one that's showing how full of crap our government is. I briefly thought it was a somewhat silly thing to do, one I didn't expect from him. Except for the bit where he's a tiny bit of a political fanatic. And I do call him just that, a fanatic, an amateur. Not that I'm any better, but sometimes his views seem as naïve to me as mine must seem to SmTn. Maybe. I'm not sure. I probably just wanted to belittle him and figure no girl will fall for that sort of thing. Which is my way of trying to justify to myself that he should want me, through very twisted logic. 

On other news, it would seem Mt is snapping out of it. JJ and I overheard him talking on the phone to (we assume) some girl, and blushing at the mention of it, which is a good sign. That much better on that front, eh? I'm still trying to look good, though. Just in case I see LesMisGuy and he sees me. I try to remember to wear perfume. I double-check my make up. I feel so silly doing all this, knowing it's beyond stupid, but I can't help myself. I'm holding on to the idea that he will see me and want me. I'm even toying with the idea of having to greet him again, with a kiss, but going for an actual kiss on his cheek. What do you suppose he'd do? In my twisted mind, he holds me and kisses me on the lips. In my twisted mind, I still have a chance. I really shouldn't heed myself.

I should, however, try to work. I should, if not try to work, write back to SmTn. I have half an e-mail in my drafts folder and can't quite seem to think of things to write, of ways to link one idea to the next. I'm writing this blog post now out of habit, out of knowing it's been a while since I last kept track of anything and I'll want to remember later. 

I'm overeating again. I'm more than ever staying very still and doing fuck all other than lie in bed. It's partly due to anxiety. I just wish something would happen, and at the absence of action I initiate my own in the form of getting myself something to eat. More often than not junk food. I sometimes try to starve myself to make up for it, go without breakfast or have a lousy lunch. And then there are days when I wake up, have a bag of chips with a glass of cola for breakfast, and then have breakfast again when my parents offer chocolate milk and eggs with bacon.

This morning my mum offered one such breakfast. She offered arepa to go with everything, and I said it'd be ok. She came back to tell me we were out of arepas, and ask if I'd have some bread instead. Knowing she referred to the bread from the nearby bakery, the one my little one had for breakfast when my dad walked out with her early in the morning, I refused. She brought it anyway. I didn't touch it. 

On account of that, and thinking of LesMisGuy too much, and realising it's been forever since I talked to EBF, AOB, A, or even N1, I've been feeling like shit today. Shitty enough to make me want to cry and sulk. Shitty enough that I can't even write a proper fucking e-mail for SmTn. Shitty enough that a manicure and having gotten a haircut yesterday (for the first time in over 6 months) isn't helping. I haven't even been watching that many YouTube videos. I wish I could go out more. I wish I had people to go out with. I wish I could afford to go out at all. I wish I didn't know that going out isn't going to help matters. I wish I didn't think of LesMisGuy so much.

[9:54pm edit]
You know, EBF is online and I'm tempted (was tempted) to ask him for advice on my essay due in on Tuesday. He probably remembers "Crime and Punishment." I wanted someone to bounce ideas off of. And then... well, I decided against it. I don't know why I wanted to keep track of the fact that I wanted to talk to him. I figure that by now, wanting to talk to him is a foolish thing to want.

Thursday, 1 March 2012

Losing my mind, almost officially

I slept very little last night on account of the paper I had to hand in today. Surprisingly, I'm already reading quite a bit more than literature students, and I'm also a bit more serious about handing papers in on time. Some people arrived late to today's lecture arguing they were printing their papers. Only just?

Anyway, I meant to keep track of something that hadn't happened in a very long time: sleep paralysis. I was too tired to go on working, so I turned off the lights and tried to sleep, but couldn't. I became too acutely aware of sounds, until I started hallucinating them. I heard many voices screaming nonsense in a very menacing way. The only thing that comes to mind when I try to remember is something about a virgin called Virginia (I know, very original). They were trying to get me somewhere, and they pulled on my feet and hands. I could feel myself almost being lifted, but not quite. The oddest thing is I was on my back, with my knees bent against my chest as they pulled, and yet I was on my side when I managed to move. Or perhaps I moved to my side as soon as I could move, I can't remember now. When I started to regain control of myself I realised I could see with my eyes shut in the dark, as if it weren't as dark as it actually was.

The only other instances I can remember like this go way back: the first took place when I was 4 (at most), and I couldn't fall asleep because I could see my room even when I shut my eyes. No sleep paralysis then. The other instance goes back to when I was maybe 7-9 and I was staying at my aunt MT's place. I slept on the sofa in the living room and one night I thought I'd woken up to a big reunion where the lights were on. I was dead scared by the fact that I couldn't move at all. My cousins' nanny was bent to me asking me or telling me something. It seemed to me at the time that everyone in the party was dead and I was only seeing their ghosts. I refused to sleep in the living room from then on.