I'm disconnected

Today is Maggie's birthday. She called me last night, feeling lonely, and Tylere and I talked to her from the bar where we were shooting pool and watching the Cubs game. The physicists talked to her a little, too, and I was struck with the irony of the moment.

Last year I was the one calling lonely from New York to talk to her and Tylere.

It's another lovely day here in Indiana again. Perfect crystal skies and electric colors on the trees. It rained a bit on Tuesday, but that was only the third rainy day I've seen rain since I've been here.

Tylere is asleep on my sofa right now, and I'm at school. He's so beautiful. He needs a little peace, and I'm glad he had my home to come to for that.

I know how blessed I am to be at this university, and to be so loved, but there is something that is keeping me from fully enjoying it.

...something...

I just feel hungover, psychologically. You know, the way hangovers make you curse the sunshine, and noises, and food, and movement. Even though sunshine, and noises, and food, and movement are good things.

I'm important to Joe, but he's not intense with his words of affection, which I like. He's not very intense about much. He was in a fraternity, and he thinks Dave Matthews is a good musician. He hates stereotypes and he was a diver in highschool. Kickboxer in college. Currently a rockclimber.

But he calls himself a philosopher. From Peoria, Illinois.

For some reason I am lacking the transcendent dizzy spin of the thought that this man is the answer to my prayers. Even though he is so much different from anyone else who's "been all up ons," as my physicists say. I don't think I fell asleep thinking about him last night, but it was late and I was tired. But that's sort of an indicator. Guys usually send me floating.

There is not one good reason why he hasn't sparked a surge of feeling through me. No. Good. Reason. But I know I don't want him to leave. He knows he doesn't drive me crazy, of course, and I know that guys are good at ending things first if they have a suspicion that a girl is thinking about ending it. Well, I guess I just expect guys to end things.

It's like my curse after breaking up with my only significant-time-period boyfriend.

"Thou who dumps shalt henceforth be dumped, so sayeth the Lord."

Today sucks. Tonight will be okay. But today sucks.

The Cubs broke my heart, and I punched a pool table (they're made of slate, you say?) so my right hand is purple and swolen. It hurts.

I have homework/quizzz and NO time to study... I'm hungry, too.

...and I awoke to 2 messages from my Midwestern boy:

I hope I haven't scared you off, and good morning my sweet little lady. The former was sent at twenty past seven, and as I contemplated my response he sent the latter, at twenty till eight. When I called he said we could talk later, but I told him not to worry about it, have a good day, and I'll see him this afternoon.

I just don't know. Really. There are facts to the tale, but as far as my evaluation, it's as good as yours.

My batteries just died in my discman, and I just got to school...

shit