Stuffed

A bunch of us Thanksgiving refugees assembled at the home of a sweet old artist who was gracious enough to share her Brooklyn co-op and abundant kitchen. Incredible food and incredible company. Artists, social workers, scholars, and urban planners. Not one lull in the conversation. That's right: conversation. No scattered mingling or trite droning. Instead, we all sat at a large table and had an amazing and fluid conversation that spanned a wide spectrum of interests. We stuffed ourselves to bursting with wine and food. We discussed current political, geographical, and social trends and the history behind them. Best of all, I got to play with a Jindo dog all evening (it's a famous Korean breed that one of the guests discovered in an animal shelter).

I smell like turkey and asparagus. I'm so happy right now.

Burning Man

Of course life is like that prison analogy I made earlier. Had a wonderful date followed by a very productive study session. I come home and find out there's no hot water. So I head down to the basement and notice that the pilot light is out on the water boiler. No biggie, right? It doesn't smell like gas at all so I turn on the pilot switch. Next thing I know, a friggin fireball engulfs my right arm. Now I'm nursing second degree burns that hurt like a MOTHERFUCKER.

Of course, all I can think of is, "How the hell am I going to take my finals like this?!?"

Thank god my roommate had some Tylenol 3.

Stranger

Wow. I just spent the last couple hours exploring the basement of our apartment with my upstairs neighbors. WHOA.

We dug through some ancient shit. Seems our former landlord used to stay down there when his ex-wife (our current landlord) didn't want him around. We rummaged through shit from the 80s and 90s that no person should have to go through without cultural blinders and a solid understanding of how bad a relationship can get.

She

She speaks in Portuguese in her sleep. She teaches me about protein folding and cancerous stem cells. She says things like, "You're risking your epidermal integrity!" instead of "Watch out, you'll cut yourself!". She breathes a floral mist.

I show her how the leaves change. I drone on about legal policy. I tease her mercilessly. I am mesmerized by her beauty.

We kiss the same. We agree that we make a nice fit. We indulge in far too much (and yet not enough) PDA. We call each other's shit.

Feast or Famine

I'm either bored or overwhelmed. I hear prison life is like that. Moments of maddening stillness cut with the shiv of crisis. I'm on that shiv right now.

This past week has been overwhelming. It started with a really bad day in school and ended with a really bad day in school, but it had some amazing highpoints in between...

So, to begin with, I met someone. She is stunning, brilliant, grounded, funny, mannered, and sweet. Unbelievably sweet. I pray the day never comes that she realizes how out of my league she is. I like her. A lot. This makes me really really anxious. I usually take dating in stride, mostly because I'm so friggin sick of it. But with her... Well, when I think of her my palms sweat, my mouth goes dry, and my heart races out of my throat. My classmates tease me and tell me I'm "in wuv". I laugh and feel the crushing blows of anxiety play with the transportive infatuation.

Unfortunately, I've also hit my first bad snag with a client. Really bad. We'll see how it plays out next week.

Between all the negative and positive stresses on my life, my insomnia has returned with a vengeance. I lay awake at night, staring at a shoulder that I have memorized. It's new scent calms me and bids me to chill the hell out and relearn how to float. Because sometimes floating is appropriate. I hope I can listen to that shoulder.