All reality-check units, please report.
Thursday, 10/29/09 - 3:40 pm.

Work talk: I went on a field trip yesterday. I'd said I wasn't going, but I did. My parents came too, because my mom was going to have a group activity with mothers of children with disability. It was so great, so fun. I saw a new part of my country, learned about war, mining corporations and their deathly consequences, disability...I had a great time.

Today, my boss asked me to go with him to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs for a meeting. It was incredibly boring -I kept myself awake thinking of stuff mentioned below- but then I learned he wasn't having the time of his life, either. He is very dissapointed by the bureaucracy. But given that the place was delightfully accessible (he's missing both legs so he's on a wheelchair), I asked him to come with me to the departament of scholarships in the next building. I have some information now! I'll review it tonight, but it seems promising.

Last night I was waiting for JC's call. Because he calls me every night, right? But time passed and passed and I started to get a little uneasy, "what if he's about to stop calling me every day?". Paranoid, if you will. But then he came online and I sighed with relief. That can't be good, right? I know, I know! Three people have taken the time to warn me about this, one way or another. But I had things to tell him. I wanted to tell him about my trip, mostly because I came up with an awesome idea for a research, although further details will be discussed in person with the rest of the prefrontals.

On the side, I was talking to Angie, which made me incredibly happy because I hadn't talked to her since she got married on September 4th. And then I was talking to Skeleton Guy, who just...well, I'm not attracted to him. I don't fall for that kind of courtship. Don't speak in german to me when you very well know I don't understand it.

Anyway, back to JC. It kinda caught me off guard that he asked me about "the gentlemen". What gentlemen? "the XY chromosomes", meaning if I have had any luck with them lately. This may be me being hopeful, but since when does he ask me this kind of things? Regardless, I appreciated the chance to pour my heart out so I pretended he was any other friend and opened up. He then asked why I cared so much about finding someone. Because it feels nice?...Because, maybe, it's frustrating that the guy you like does not like you back. I couldn't put it into words with him, but I miss that type of intimacy.

I told him a little about Lighthouse, about the process of me believing he liked me: you know how we have the tendency to find evidence that supports our hyphotheses while we disregard the evidence that refutes them?. "Ah, yes", he replied, "what we do with the horoscope" (see? he's awesome). While explaining him my case on Lighthouse, I took the opportunity to tell him I wouldn't get involved with a guy that has a girlfriend, because that had happened to me, when Mrs Smith came to live with Joseph. It was more of a self-affirming expression, I suppose. A reality check.

I told him some things about Joseph. It felt good to talk about why I never gave him drawings; I didn't feel encouraged to do so, I think I've already said this. JC said it's a good thing that the prefrontals came along because he perceives I'm very comfortable with them, including him. I am comfortable with them, because I have a hard time having my own gang. I mean, I don't have anyone to call by default, a group of my own. He said he was like that, too. Yes, but you have Melissa (this is me, again, self: reality check). Not all the time, he replied, but yeah.

He went on: Although loneliness hits me sometimes. But you know, there's a part of me that I think you understand and nobody else had gotten it before, and maybe that makes me feel comfortable. I got tears in my eyes when I read that. It was guilt, perhaps: this guy has a girlfriend, lalalalala. I replied, "we probably have the same injury in our Wernicke Area" [a stretch on why we speak in random terms so fluently]. But seriously, these opportunities of finding someone that understands you like nobody else does are hard to come by. I told him so, and our opportunity came in the oddest way: he called me, out of the blue, to say my Simeon site was great. We'd never talked before, other than saying hi and such at the university. It was so, so random. He replied it was an impulse, it was hardcore acting out.

- JC: you know, in a way...since we are spilling our beans, I mean...I always wanted to meet you. I'd say "she looks a little peculiar, I wonder how she is?". So calling you was probably a remaining of that curiosity.

Ah, fuck.

I'd hear a lot about him, too, but even though we were both instructors, he was never in the cublicle. He didn't like the place because the environment was very hostile. Most of all the other instructors spent their time saying rude comments about professors and other students. But he noticed I wasn't like that, so he wondered what was up with me. We would have met sooner if he had been at the cubicle more often.

Then we just talked about other stuff, until one in the morning. One in the morning, Jesus Christ. That was almost four hours of talking. I just don't want to stop talking to him (I was going to type "I can't stop", but truthfully, I can't because I don't want to). We're saying good night and something else comes up. We saw funny videos, we made plans, we talked a bit more about Joseph...I think he was very intrigued about some aspects of my relationship with him, and for me it was nice to talk about them. But anyway, we have a huge to-do list and the night before we'd been talking about how cool it'd have been to be neighbors when we were kids. Of course, reality broke my heart again when he said "my girlfriend calls me a youtube freak". Yes, he has a girlfriend.

Today at noon, he sent me ten or so text messages about all the jokes we made last night. And I wondered what that funny feeling I'm having was, and it turned out to be that thing they call butterflies in the stomach. But that's just a metaphore for my neurotransmitters going crazy. In a few hours I'm going to my university to FINALLY talk to the head of the psychology departament about wanting to work there....and I may see him.

All this doesn't sound very healthy, does it?

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