Friday, 04/01/05 - 10:26 pm.
Anxiety woke me up. Until the time I showered, I was feeling anxious. I had a knot in my stomach, my fingers were trembling, I was cold, and I was afraid. Of what, I don't exactly know. But obviously I'm like this because of Joseph.
Some time between yesterday's and today's afternoon, I've embraced the feeling of being single again. It doesn't make me happy, because I've lost someone I really love, in a very nasty way. Plus, I'm having this sort of regression to my shell, being a bitter, lonely hermit. But that's ok, I guess. That's my nature. I'd left that lifestyle only because of Joseph.
First let me talk about the meeting. I'm part of the Psychology Billboard team, remember? So today there was this meeting, that included my brother (coordinator of the career of psychology, if you just tuned in), who will be lending us a hand in every possible way. Everybody was late for the meeting, so it was just my brother and I in a room of the psychology lab. Then this guy, Jerry (he was my instructor last year), knocked on the door and asked joking, excuse me, is this the meeting for psychology matters, or a family reunion?. He's very funny. I get the feeling he doesn't like me much, but that's irrelevant.
Besides my brother and I, there were only five more people. Two, Jerry included, were just there because they'd been in charge before, and were going to give us advice. Marcela is the one trying to wake this billboard up, and she handed me the keys to it. I was going to explode, WHAT? I DID NOT ASK FOR THIS, I JUST HELP WITH THE CONTENT! BLOODY BACKSTABBER!
Long story short, we talked about it a little. Then the ones interested (just three, the two "seniors" had left) on reviving the Psychology Students Association, PSA, stayed to talk about it with my brother. I left, because as I said yesterday, I'm not interested. It's a mess I'd rather not be part of, and my brother agreed on that.
When I left the lab, I wasn't upset about the keys anymore. This warm feeling came over me, I'm part of something. I have the opportunity to do something that'll reach others, something that, if done properly, will continue after I graduate. And seriously, I only have two more years of university left. It's now or never. It's great to be part of a project that can grow so much. So, I have the keys, and I'm happy about it.
All I have to keep my mind off Joseph is this project and my classes.
It was 4 o'clock, and my class was at 5:30. I went to pay the monthly university fee, and then I walked around the campus, hoping to find Joe (since we had this pattern of spending friday afternoons together...it only happened twice, but it feels like a lot more). Nothing. Deep down, I knew I wouldn't find neither Joseph or Joe.
So I did something: I went to get myself a cup of coffee. To the coffeeshop outside the pedestrian gate, where Joseph and I used to go at least twice a week. I was fearing the memories that would flood my mind as soon as I opened the door, but one has to move on. I needed the caffeine, because I was very sad and about to start sobbing. Sure enough, I walked in and that soft mixture of dessert smells made my knees weak.
Regardless, I ordered a winged chinese, as Joseph used to call the cold capuccino. I thought of not adding sugar, because I didn't add sugar the first time I went there, with Joseph and Cel. Bitter, that's how I was feeling the day they took me, and that's how I was feeling today...but I actually considered that as reason to add the sugar.
Went back into the campus, and sat on a concrete step near my classroom in building A. That place is becoming my favorite spot, and from now on, I'll go sit there everyday, with a cold capuccino in my hand (although I may change the drink from time to time), reading, writing, thinking, or just watching everyone who walks by. It's a pretty place, it's surrounded by lots of plants. Oh, and D has a class in tha building, on the third floor. I see him almost everyday. Yeah, it's nice.
Classes were quite nice, too. My Latinamerican Literature professor was wearing a Beatles t-shirt (!!!). I asked a question in Social Psychology, but the professor forgot to answer it. That's all right, though. I figured the answer out by myself. I feel kind of lame by having only two classes per day. But that's how it works. And in my defense, they're very heavy.
That was my day. It was painful, and yet cozy. What saved me from crying were the keys to the billboard (and the collateral effect of getting a little more into the circle of "proactive" psychology students), the capuccino, and classes with my friends (Victor, Irene and Priscilla).
There's going to be a huge festival at the university on sunday, in the spirit of social awareness ("25 years of impunity", it's called). There are many singers/bands scheduled to perform, and until tonight, I hadn't felt like going. Suddenly I was in the car, and I said to my dad, "I want to go". So I'm going. I just need to get a ticket, my brother can get it for me tomorrow, since they're sold at the campus.
Now, this is where I cry:
Even though I was anxious since I came home (just like when I woke up, it always like that: if it happens in the morning, it'll happen at night), I dialed Joseph's number, to ask him if he had plans of going to the festival. He picked up and I heard a lot of noise in the background, so I asked him where he was. I don't know, he replied. Call me in 10 minutes.
10 minutes later, I dial again. He picks up and I figure he still isn't in a place where I can have a GODDAMN ONE MINUTE CONVESATION with him. He said something, and I asked "what?", but I realized he wasn't even talking to me. On hold. I'll call you tomorrow, I said. Ok, good night, he replied. Since when he says "good night"? I hung up as soon as I could. It's materially impossible to talk to him.
Now I'll just send him a message, "I was asking if you you were going to the festival, that's all, bye".
Oh, and guess what? After I hung up, I cried. Because that's what hurt people do.
Surely it's a little profane to say this, but these days I've been feeling like Terri Schiavo and the Pope (bless their souls) regarding Joseph. Wishing for everything to finally end, and yet hoping it won't. A never-ending agony.
Right. Good night.
No, wait. Congratulate me. Haven't you noticed most of my paragraphs start with "I"? Well, I avoided that today. Pointless, but praiseworthy indeed.
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