Tuesday, 08/30/05 - 10:57 pm.
This girl, Marcela, ruined my whole schedule this afternoon. She's Michelle's partner for the children's evaluations, you see (I GOT A KID WITH NINJA TURTLES PANTS!!!). I'd told Michelle to please hurry as soon as they were done with their kids, because I had a meeting with mr. Basket, and I had to be in campus before he left his office at 4:30.
It was 4:15, I was still in the school, and I was desperate. I didn't want to go and push Michelle, I feared I'd interrupt, but I was told she was done with her children, so I walked into the classroom she was in.
I'm done since a quarter to four, she said. I got pissed off, "why didn't you come and tell me?". Marcela said you weren't finished with your kids yet. Right. I finished at a quarter to four, too, and Marcela had seen me. I was mad at Michelle, because she was supposed to come outside the classroom when she was done. And I was mad at Marcela for doing something so fucked up. Michelle confronted her -friendly-, hey, you told me she wasn't done. "Oh, yeah", she replied carelessly, "I was wrong".
When I got to the university, I couldn't find Mr. Basket. So my brainy idea, about how to fix the lack of 10 pages in one of the Psychodamics readings, will have to wait until tomorrow. I was actually more upset at what Marcela had done (lying) rather than what she'd caused (me being late). I didn't have an official meeting with Mr. Basket, anyway, I'd just told him today I'd go talk to him about the photocopies.
I went to the cafeteria to see if Joseph was there. He was, with a bunch of friends, including his ex-girlfriend. I remained silent for a while, and he understood I was pissed off. I explained to him, and to my relief, he listened and showed a lot of empathy. Which automatically made me feel better.
Except we couldn't be together for too long, and that upset me some more. I had to go to class, and he kindly walked me. We left the cafeteria by that time two of his ex-girlfriends were sitting at the table: a dark gal and the dyed redhair girl he "dated" for a couple of weeks when we broke up.
On our way to my classroom, I asked him how he'd feel if he had to hang out with two of my ex-boyfriends (it was hypothetical, I don't have that many). They're just human beings, although I'd get a little unsteady with the one who broke your heart.....why?. I couldn't tell him at first, but I had to confess: I felt very small next to his ex-girlfriends. I felt embarrassed, and not good enough (this one I didn't say). He kissed me, and said I was the one, and they're just his friends.
I want to hug him right now, although mostly I feel like crying.
Last night, I sort of told him about my childhood "traumas" (for the lack of a better word), which have been, for the most past, repressed, or maybe just forgotten. I told him how when I was 7 I'd hit my head while I was in the shower, because I felt gross. About my abusive neighbors and my most miserable time, 8th grade, with Carmen and Veronica, and how that was the first time I thought of commiting suicide and held a razor to my wrist (but never touched the skin, that'd be years later). I didn't tell him what really happened, just how I felt, and although he was curious, he didn't insist. But it meant a lot to me, that he was concerned.
And with this I conclude today's entry. But first, I'll announce my brother's arrival tomorrow morning, directly from Houston, to be part of a Central American Neurology Congress. I knew he was coming to give a speech, and I knew there was going to be a Congress, but it never ocurred to me both events were related. Duh.
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