Thursday, 05/06/04 - 11:14 pm.
I got a bed today. The bed my parents bought for me the day I bought Honkin' On Bobo. It's bigger, it's very firm. It's my first bed ever, if you want to get technical about it. Hi, I slept in a craddle for 19 years (we removed the bars when I was three, duh).
But I miss my Superman mattress.
Carmen came this morning, all of a sudden. No, yes, she called first, in case I was studying or something. The talk was a little too long for my taste, and it only had occassional moments of fun. Her stories are always amusing (I can't help wonder if some of them are %100 true), though. But you know, I do appreciate that she takes the time to come over to see me.
She didn't know I attended the prom party, two years ago. Who did you go with?!. It was Denver, but I said I didn't remember. Why didn't you tell me?!. Duh. She had her own friends, she barely noticed me that whole year. "You could've asked", I told her. "You are so lame", she said. I didn't fight back. She'd never understand she left me out.
I'd just arrived to the campus this afternoon, when I ran into Trent. Not only he stopped to say hi, but also turned around, left his friends, and started to walk with me (no, I don't consider that as a "sign").
We sat somewhere, I know you always sit here, he told me. Well, what do you know? I do sit right where he said I did. I sat on the bench, and he jumped on the bench and squatted like a frog, like yesterday.
We talked, of course. I found out he's Cel's neighbor, what a small world. We talked about granola bars and...some irrelevant stuff. Not so irrelevant, really, but irrelevant enough to be omitted in this diary.
His middle finger was bruised, and he showed it to his friends. That's something else. We couldn't talk for more than five minutes because he was always greeting friends. Cel was the first one to show up, and she asked him how he was doing. He answered "bad". And he wouldn't tell her why. I did notice he had some conflict, but I still feel too much like a stranger to tell him: "come on, tell me what's wrong". I could've dared to ask him, because I was genuinely interested in him, but we were never alone for long enough.
I met one of his friends, who we (my four friends and I) used to call MotorcycleGuy last year. He always dressed in Misfits t-shirts and such, and wore black leather clothes and boots and gloves...you get the picture. He's kind of handsome, too. And it was nice meeting him, finally. We were classmates the whole last year, but we never even looked at each other. I liked him (in a friendly way). He seemed very cool and smart.
Trent left for a while, and it was just MotorcycleGuy, who's called Fher, and me. I thought it'd be awkward, but no, we actually talked the whole time. He's majoring in philosophy, and kind of told me about his life, how he went abroad to study, then came back and what he'd do after he graduated. Then about God. I told him I don't believe in the God in the Bible, and he said that this God is very selfish (see, He's this Big Guy that's going to create beings just to be worshipped by them; He will give them free will so they can choose to praise Him, but if they choose not to praise Him, He will punish them).
I'd rather have ideas than beliefs. He's going to be a wonderful philosopher. You couldn't tell by the way he looks (although sometimes he's quite formal), but he will be great. He already is.
Trent introduced me to Fher, and as soon as he heard my name he went: ah, Edgar Allan Poe. Just like Trent went the day we met (it was like two days ago but it seems so long now). Ok, I'll get back on Poe later.
So your second name is...? and I told him. Trent came back and Fher said, hey, her second name is Maria. And Trent said, oh, my name is Joseph. Yeah, I knew that, that's not the point. The point is something must've happened to Trent with seven girls named like my second name.
Ok, well...while I was with them, two (among many, many more) friends came up to them. One I'm already familiar with, the Maniac. And the other one is GrapeHead (that's just the shape of his head, not his nickname...he did tell me his real name).
At some point I felt odd. Because I was in this odd circle of hardcore people that I always saw playing The Gathering on the corner of the cafeteria last year (they're still there, I just don't go in the cafeteria anymore), and I asked myself how did I get here? I wasn't uncomfortable-uncomfortable, but it was odd, being there. They're wonderful people, really. I think I've met more people these past couple of days than a whole year at school.
Ok, I was among them, GrapeHead, Maniac, Fher and Trent/Joseph/Madman (his nickname, it does suit him), listening to their conversation. On the surface, for anyone who tends to judge on the outside, they might seem like total freaks. As a matter of fact, Trent turned to me once and asked: "I live among these freaks, now understand why I am like this?". I said no, I still don't understand. I really don't.
Well, it was 5:30 and the parrots flew by over our heads, on their way to the campus woods. I got up and said I was going to join them (I had class). Maniac called me "Hitchcock girl", because of my mentioning the birds.
I said goodbye to them. I slapped hands with Maniac and shook hands with Trent and GrapeHead. Only Fher got up and gave me a hug. Somehow I felt very attached to him. Maybe because we were classmates. "I know you were my classmate the whole last year", I said. He said "I know, I'm just shy...I don't speak to anyone until I've been formally introduced. It was nice meeting you". And he's a grown-up, too. I think he could be 22 or older.
Ok, so I really don't know anything about Trent yet, we didn't have a chance to talk a lot. It's because of his "just add water" friends. Even he told me when we said goodbye: nice talking to you again, although we didn't get a chance to do that. No, I'm not upset about that. It's just funny.
But now I know what I needed to know. In words of Paul McCartney: "no, actually, we're just good friends".
But even so, I'm scared of losing him. I'm starting to feel very dependent on him. Not romantically, but I just want to be with him, talking (I could swear I said this yesterday). I'm afraid he's the type of guy that vanishes overnight. And he seems to be prone to that, he doesn't even study there. I came home last night, and I came home tonight, with the same feeling, "maybe today was the last day he'll care for me".
Whatever you can't say in words, you say it with your face, your gestures. I like that. I can't say "I get that lot". It's the first time.
Ok, back to Edgard Allan Poe. My dad was at some meeting at a bohemian restaurant, a block away from one of the UCA entrances. He said I could walk my way there after class and meet him there, and I thought, yes, ok, yay. I like walking (I kind of wished for Trent to be walking me over there *cough*).
But it wasn't as cool as I thought it'd be, the walk. I was sweating cold. This country is so insecure and I'm so paranoid. I was afraid someone would come behind me and attack me. Someone whistled at me, how typical (it's because of those males that I'm slowly becoming a feminist, even against my own will). The street was very dark, and I had to walk by a park. I know how the stories about girls walking by dark parks at night go.
The bohemian restaurant was also a little bookstore. And they had one of Poe's book. I inmediately thought of Trent, and even Fher (the story *with my name on it*, that's one of his best), so I grabbed it and bought it (eh, my dad did). I knew that story wasn't on that book. I did not care.
I've read one of his books already (which contained, among others, The Black Cat and The Raven), and I liked it a lot, but I wasn't particulary into him. So I opened this book I'd just bought and I discovered we share the birthday. He was born in Boston and he moved to Liverpool. Aerosmith is from Boston, The Beatles are from Liverpool. This is where I say OOOMMFGGGGZZZ!!!!!, but I won't. It's just a stretch. A good one, though, if I do say so myself.
I wouldn't know if it's because of Trent, but I seem to be developing an oral fixation (aside from the black hole in my stomach and the violent heartbeating). I always bite the insides of my mouth, but today it bled a little too much. I had to suck a lollipop, to stop the biting, and then the stick remained in my mouth for six hours. My mouth just wouldn't stop moving. It kind of stopped when I bought the book, though.
Ok, I'm going to read my new book in my new bed.
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