Monday, 09/19/05 - 9:59 pm.
Mondays are long, but this one in particular was very good, except for an episode Joseph and I had, but that'll come later.
My 9 am meeting went well, and by the end of the week, I'll be interviewing the parents of the 14-year old boy I'll be evaluating until november. I'm scared I'll screw up, but I try to remain positive. So positive I'm even enjoying my Methods of Evaluation class, even though I flopped last monday's exam. To my own surprise, I still like the old woman that's our professor. She has pretty blue eyes, anyway.
I called Joseph before my meeting, to wake him up. At noon he'd arrive to the university and we'd have lunch. The night before we'd sort of been hurtful to each other, after making my not going to his house over the weekend much more complicated than it really was. But we survived, we got past it quickly.
So we met up, and since he wasn't hungry yet, we just sat and started to talk. And talk. And talk. Until he realized I wasn't looking back at him, because I was actually crying. The conversationg began very innocently, but somehow it turned around the wrong way. He didn't say anything wrong, but what he said made me realize...or rather reminded me how different we are, and I started to cry, and when he noticed he started to hug me and didn't know what to do, and asked exactly what was wrong and I said, I'm never going to make you happy.
I cried for like 20 minutes, and he just held me, and said he was sorry, and never wanted to lose me, and I was the one with goals and dreams and he had nothing, and he'd follow me everywhere, and I was the love of his life, and he had a lot of hate repressed but never meant to take it out on me...I don't know. Stuff. It tranquilized me, but I still felt that, when I had a bunch of diplomas and titles (which isn't my goal, but you always get papers after graduating and all) he'd look at me the way you look a bimbo, all empty and useless and meaningless inside.
That's not true. I'll be proud for you for everything you accomplish, and I'll always go where you're going, if it's Spain or wherever, and I'll be able to adjust to your schedule. I don't want to lose you, ever.... I don't know, he ended up talking me out of those ideas that we're so different he'll get bored with me and will consider me a hollow professional, all titles and useless.
An orange kitty caught our attention. And then he asked me if I was feeling better, and we went for lunch. We had this marvelous salad with chicken, and our conversations went back to normal.
We were together until 3 pm, when I had to go sit at the instructor's cubicle for a while. Hanging out there isn't what I thought it'd be, and I spent my hour there reading, talking to no one. There weren't many people to talk to, anyway, and the ones there are in their last year or so, so I don't really know them.
Other relevant details of my day include Mr. Basket taking off my back the weight of being in class at 4:30 on wednesday. He was going to let me take that class to see if there were any questions, but as it turned out, at 5:30 I had Mr. Basket's midterm for Social Psychology II. I'm not done with the current topic, anyway, so I'll take the wednesday class myself; I think it's best for you to focus on your midterm. BLESS THAT MAN, I love him.
Also, on wednesday morning, I will be going out of town with the child abuse project crew, meaning Victor, Sara (the lady in charge), Mr. PhD (he's just an eminence, mmmkay?) and yours truly. It's a 45 minutes drive, but what the hell. It'll be a good experience.
For the record, I have that stupid nose-throat infection again. And a headache. I will not be going swimming tomorrow, argh.
As good Mr. Basket said, I will go and focus on my midterm right now.
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