I like boys because they're boys
The examples in class are never as hard as the assignments.
Theta grid matrices are a bit simpler.
I also have to "discuss" a paper on lip-reading.
Then comes a weekend.
Perhaps there will be a weekend, but will it be with Kareem? Definitely with first-year physicists, but we could exclude the third-year.
See, he called tonight as I was on my way in between yoga and studying with Rachel (a linguistics/Slavic student). He asked about my day; I asked about his. Then he asked if I'd read his play.
I told him yes, I did, and listened to the cd, all on Monday night.
Then I asked him about his day again, but he didn't let me off so easily and asked what I then thought about his play.
I just told him it wasn't my style, and though I hoped to not sound like a bitch, I just didn't like it so much and I hoped he didn't mind honesty, but it's not "pure" rubbish.
I didn't tell him it made me laugh my ass off.
He thanked me, and said he knew it was terrible, and that he needed people to be honest with him. "Was it not what you expected?" he asked.
"I didn't know what to expect," I told him. "I hardly know you at all."
Without making any plans he suggested that we might hang out this weekend. I prefer a guy to make plans, of course, instead of just suggesting that I call them sometime. Non-committal is fine, but ambiguity is not. Or perhaps vice versa. Something like that.
Rachel and I managed to get our homework figured out (but now I have to type it out), which was good for both of us, since we are both strong in different areas. Most of our time was spent shooting the shit, though.
Hey, neither of us have friends here, and I think we're both hoping the other turns out to be a friend, so we both invested a little today.
While we paused for a cigarette my phone rang with the ole Spears. I thought it would be Tylere calling, but instead it was just Spears.
Not just Spears, but that was a play on words, with his name. Don't try to get it, okay?
He told me about his sad, sappy day and how when he checked his mail therein was a manilla envelope from yours truly. He was so giddy. The six-hundered C-notes were "money" (and not in the Swingers sense), and the magnet I made for him about his "inner slut" was too too perfect. Not to mention the gold-fish diary card I found. Hell, I was excited to send him the package (because I LOVE sending packages).
The cd was the best, though, of course. He made me feel really good, too, by describing his feelings song-by-song. I love it when people tell me their specific feelings about each song, because they were all hand-picked just for that person.
He really was feeling good, though, and talking like a newly inspired young man. I felt like I do when my little brothers call me with good news. He told me about a tattoo he wants to get (since he met me while I got mine), and then he told me to act surprised when Tylere tells me his news.
Because he told me some of Tylere's news.
That Spears really is a dynamic little kid, and I like the way he expresses himself. He's got mad flava.
He's prescriptive and not just descriptive.
I need to take pictures of my world here, don't I?
So I've got 40 Friendsters now. Did everyone read what Rolling Stone said about that site? About how it's just like real relationships and it will ruin your life. I loved it. I love Friendster. It's whack.
Well, it's almost one, and tomorrow will be a long day, so I should go.
The next time I get a hug I hope it's really strong and cozy. I hope it's a familial hug. I hope I get squeezed really tightly. I think I might start crying just for being so thankful to be held.
Two things I'll never take for granted ever again are stars and hugs.
I know the stars one sounds funny, because they're constant, but in NY there aren't stars. Indiana has millions to the n-th stars.
