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Monday, 4 November 2013

Cuídate

You learn something new every day. Turns out I've been misspelling "ti" in Spanish pretty much forever.* How embarrassing.

Shall we give him a name? MysT (what on Earth is Cq?). Last week, and I didn't write about it on Wednesday, I wore a dress. I felt like wearing a dress just like I felt like wearing a skirt today. It's just one of those days. I would have written an essay-like post about the meaning (to me) of wearing a dress or otherwise trying to look pretty, but it's both complicated and simple. I try to look pretty for two reasons, mainly: to say "I don't care if I'm not pretty enough to pull off this look, I'm wearing it!" and to make myself pretty. Which is sort of the same as saying "I don't care how I look today, so I'm going to care enough to look pretty for me." It makes sense in my head, trust me. On days when I dress fugly on purpose, the reasons are "I feel ugly, so I'm going to try to be invisible," which is really just "I care enough about how I look to feel ugly, so I don't care how I look today." Wednesday, like I was saying, was a dress day. I'd be lying if I said I didn't hope to get MysT's attention that day, so I now have to tell you I felt bad when he made a point out of not looking my way. I was trying to look good that day and that day I notice him trying hard not to look at me. He always glances away anyway, what do I care? It's the silliest thing, really. I don't like him all that much. I shouldn't care if he looks my way or not but I find myself playing this stupid game with myself where I sometimes wish I could get his attention. I don't know what it is about him or even where I'd hope to get with him. Today was a skirt day. Just because, I guess. And today I didn't care much if he looked my way or not... and he did. And then glanced away quickly. He might have blushed slightly. Maybe. I don't know. When do I ever know?

Side note: I don't like being in the spotlight. You already knew that, didn't you? I hate participating during class because of this. If someone says what I was thinking of saying, I congratulate myself for thinking like them. The one time I speak my mind out loud it's the wrong answer and I mortify myself for it, not to mention the unreasonable tachycardia attacks I get at the mere thought of talking loud enough for all the class to hear. *sigh* I'm sure this is related to why I don't like to be seen or be complimented. 

The song I've been playing in my head since today's class (maybe before, actually) is "Cuídate," by La Oreja de Van Gogh. I looked into it and it's about two people who were once in a relationship meeting again when it's too late to make things work. I got lost in a very involved daydream about it during the bus trip back from campus. I would call it a fantasy but I frankly felt like more time had gone by and I can't even remember looking out the window when I thought about all this. The scene was set out as Christmas Eve, when SmTn arrived out of the blue. After asking a lot of silly questions ("What are you doing here?," "Have you got a place to stay?." "How long have you been here?") I just say "Wait, don't answer those. Can I give you a hug?" and then we hug and it's wonderful. Before we have time for much we're off in a hurry to some Christmas celebration, most likely at my uncle's, and SmTn takes a plunge head-first into the family reunion. I even realised we wouldn't fit in my parents' car and would have to ask aunt MT to pick us up. In my mind, everyone's cool about it and they're nice to him (which they would be, I reckon). I would ask my sister to pack something up in secret to make sure SmTn had a present too. I'd most likely make my special recipe mulled wine and SmTn would be there with me in the kitchen to help me make it. We'd be together all the time without really talking about what had brought him there. And we'd get around to talking on our own sometime later. His hands would shake a little, but not from the cold and his eyes would show signs of having cried a bit. 


I haven't seen him online yet. I'm starting to worry that I maybe won't see him online again.




*It never has an accent. Single syllable words don't use an accent unless they need it and they only need it if there's another word exactly like it that means something different. Nothing of the sort happens for "ti." Now you know.

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