Thursday, 02/26/04 - 6:11 pm.
Last night I was watching Jerry McGuire, about to fall in the hopeless spell of "damn, I wish I found someone who completed me" when the phone rang.
Carmen, with a very disturbing voice told me: well, I was calling just to check on you...been thinking of your body... I didn't say a word, but because I wasn't in the mood for her sex teasing. I grew out of it a long time ago, and instead of dryly stating "haha" I remained silent until she spoke again, nah, seriously.... Long, long story short, she was coming over today. And Norm would be tagging along, too.
And she also said: you know, I think I'll attend class with you, because I won't start the career until next semester and I don't want be doing nothing these six months (as you may recall, she's changed career and has chosen my career, psychology). She killed me with that. I dramatically came down to my knees (I tell you, I'm a good drama performer when I'm alone) and while mouthing "no, no, no, no..." I just listened quietly to her rants. Well, "listen" isn't exactly what I did. I was worried about having to be with her often. I exaggerated the physical reaction, coming down my knees and all, but it was definitely a wholehearted feeling.
You know what rocks, though? Watching movies in my bedroom. Aerosmith and Beatles tapes (A Hard Day's Night, Yellow Submarine, concerts, documentals)! I need the VCR to tape a Beatles show tonight on a local channel. At the same time, my brother wants to watch a movie on cable TV. So I just decided to move the VCR to my bedroom. With which I won nothing, because if I plug the VCR I lose the signal of several channels, including the one I have to tape the show from. But not to worry, I have it all figured out and I'm taping those videos one way or another (the channel plays videos all day long, that's what it's about. They have the rarest videos and performances...that channel is a treasure).
Meanwhile, back to the ranch, and aside the astonishing technology of tapes being played for my eyes only when I'm in bed, I was feeling miserable.
Not only miserable by default (which is how I feel because of this craving, quest, emptiness you're now familiar with) but also because I had to be hostess to a couple of people I really don't feel any real connection with anymore.
So Carmen came, we talked, Norman came, we talked some more. They speak of teenage life, the one I've never had: going out with friends, going to all kinds of places. They tell "funny" stories that, unfortunately, "you had to be there" to grasp the real meaning of it. In those moments I disappear and I'm in the dark. I hate it when people start reminiscing -for a relatively long time- in front of me about something I wasn't part of.
They played Killer Instinct (SNES, I still have one of those) in my bedroom. Somebody called Carmen on her cell phone and she said she had to leave. And so did Norm. They left by noon, which was an act of fate, I believe, because as soon as they left my brother Carlos called and said he was coming over for lunch (with her girlfriend/wife, of course).
I didn't talk a lot. Just the strictly necessary. They did most of the talking. It was specially awkward for me when Norm brought up some subjects concerning D, who happens to be one of his best friends. I don't have feelings for D anymore, but I feel odd when they mention him. And also I can't help wondering if they suspect I once had feelings for him or if they believe I still have them or I'm still hurt (yeah, a little bit)...maybe they think it's awkward for me. It is, but because I think they think so.
They don't inspire me to talk, but then again, who does nowadays? They're very close, the whole gang (the pastoral gang I used to talk about in my days of high school), and sometimes I feel jealous of what they have. To tell you the truth (aside the fact that I feel left out when they start talking about situations they went through AS IF I'd been there), they're great, fun people to be around with. If you're great and fun. Which I am not, right?.
If it were for me, I'd spend all day in bed, writing (I've started to write more and more, on a notebook Angie and Vic gave me before I went to Houston), listening to music, watching movies (supposing I had the VCR in my bedroom all the time) and playing guitar. Err, "playing" guitar. Ok, strumming it. Making noise. Whatever it is that thing I do with the guitar.
I know it sounds boring. Simeon calls it "introspectional" instead. There's much more to the world and to life than being in my audio-visual bubble called bedroom, I know, but I'm not encouraged to find out, really.
Just like I was writing last night on my notebook, and I sort of quote (because I'm too lazy to go look for it and post the actual quote): "I could cry, I could cut myself, but I just can't be bothered with anything physical anymore". Then I thought of John Lennon, who'd said something similar, and again, I sort of quote: "sex is the only physical thing I can be bothered with, anymore". Yeah, ok, it's not the same as what I said, but it has the same words. Except for sex. And I'm not attracted to sex either, and I speak on behalf of my vagina, I'm not making it up.
I feel like John Lennon before he met Yoko Ono...all lifeless. But HE was creative, whereas I'm dull. And HE was going to meet Yoko, whereas I am not going to meet anybody because the "not being bothered with physical things" includes social interaction. Something serious is happening inside of me and I'm not aware of it, or I'm amusingly lazy. Either way, I find my being so pasive frankly disturbing. And you know what's worse? I don't care.
Word has it that John'd spend weeks not talking to his wife, in those days when he was miserable and he was getting tired of being a Beatle. I once had a dream in which John was my soulmate, and we hugged and all and I felt a wonderful chemistry between us. But he was dead by the time I was born, and as far as I know, he's still dead. I'm not sure if I believe in reincarnation...because if I do, I could easily say he was born again and he's about my age and one day we'll meet. But if reincarnation is a fact, he probably wasn't born in my perimeter. And for things to work out perfectly, I should have to be Yoko's reincarnated soul, but she (God bless her avant-garde soul) isn't dead.
I went to the UCA this afternoon, to pick up some paperwork crap and pay the semester. I was going to go to a bookstore afterwards, but I had to choose...either that or stay home to tape the Beatles show. It's a win/win situation, something very rare and emotionally fulfilling.
The place (the UCA) was crowded, and I ran into quite a few familiar faces. It was nice, and it was bad. "Hi", "hey, how you doing?", "good and you?", "good"..."done with the paperwork?", "yeah, almost". "Well, it was nice to see you!", "nice to see you, too". Well, it wasn't bad at all, was it? It's rather funny actually. Now, on the other hand, it was harder running into my classmates. They don't like me, it's not hard to tell.
The university adds 3.5% more to your monthly payment every year, the fuckers. I start class on march 10th. But other than that, I really have no complaints. I like the subjects (the schedule is always the same, basically from 4:30 to 8:10 and variations).
Walking around all alone, among all those pre-grown-ups...it was kind of uncomfortable. Girls all dolled-up, while I was wearing converse, black wristbands, a chocker, jeans...I felt out of place. I didn't quite care, feeling different, though. I just get these mixed emotions of being inferior and/but/yet knowing better. I did realize something: there's absolutely no way I could fall in love with anyone from this generation.
You know, maybe...maybe John was (is) my soulmate. Because as far as I know, there isn't a book or a legendary place at world's end where it says that you and your soulmate will be alive at the same time.
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