Hiding in the back of a computer lab

I wanted to be in the library, not the computer lab, but I tend to forget such things as pre-scheduled hours. Why is everything not always open and ready for my every whim and desire? My urges are not pre-scheduled, something which has really been getting me down as of late.

As I was saying, I wanted to be in the library, and I wanted to run across my favorite professor, or an old friend, or a new friend, or really anyone who would care enough to ask how I was and not expect a conventional, customary answer. And I wanted to have the opportunity to say, "Oh, you know, sometimes I tend to let the constant and omnipresent sense of pervasive loneliness to bog me down." Even though I wouldn't have said that. But perhaps since I thought it, since I imagined it, maybe in some alternate universe spinning off somewhere I did say it, or a version of myself who didn't care how strange or cracked out I can appear to other people said it. I wonder if every single thought I've ever had is actually another universe existing only in the realm of dreams and ideas and whispered desires. I wonder if I am the product of some other entity in some other universe's perceived imagination.

I wonder but truly I don't care all that much. Mostly all I care about these days is wanting to get laid again even though I don't have enough courage or confidence or comfort to make it happen. My obstacles are just too large to actively pursue my deeper objectives. No one will be writing any plays about me anytime soon. Unless fate happens to go easy on me or get sick of my perpetual whining and just drop lust and fireworks and unicorns and fire in my lap.

The girl sitting at the other group of computers at my side has been irritating me for twenty minutes, talking to a boy at a table across the room and interfering with my important concentration. I think I've just been irritated that she can hold a conversation with a man who's obviously attracted to her for longer than five minutes without getting quiet or awkward or panicked or running away. Maybe I can ask her to give me a few tips, after I ask her to shut up.

A First Try, Part 2

BOY (Dry humor.) What do you expect? My life will be empty without you.
GIRL (is uncomfortable. She cannot tell if there is truth to what he says or if he is mocking her. She jokes back, relieving some of her tension.) Yes, I suppose so. I mean because I've filled up so much of your life. Like when you invite Todd over to blow up aliens and watch South Park with you.
BOY Hey! I told you we could have played Mario Kart!
GIRL Yeah, but I suck at that too.
BOY You can't be good at everything.
GIRL Right, but the point is that with you I'm not good at anything.
BOY Why do you think that?
GIRL (pause) Never mind, it doesn't matter. I'm going home- I'll be alright. (casually) By the way, thanks for the shirt (indicating the one she is wearing).
BOY Yeah, right.
GIRL What?
BOY You are not taking that shirt with you. You know that it is a part of my history, I won it in the fifth grade, and you have already stolen it for too long.
GIRL I think it's a part of your history that I beat the shit out of you.
BOY Oh no, we are not starting this again.
GIRL Starting what again?
BOY The little game where you harrass and annoy me into wrestling with you as your way of flirting with me. It was cute the first time, but your game is getting old.
GIRL (mixed amusement and indignation) Fine! You can keep the stupid fifth grade shirt, you probably stole it from a fourth-grader or at least some kid with Down's Syndrome, and anyway it looks better on me! (She takes off the shirt, throws it in his face, and walks toward the apartment door, where she has left her bag. She takes another shirt and her toothbrush and walks to the bathroom.)
BOY puts the dishes in the sink, checks the clock on his phone, leaves in on the table, and follows her to the bathroom.
BOY You should floss, too. Your gums are disgusting. I should know.
GIRL (toothbrush in mouth) Pthbbt.
BOY What now?
GIRL Why are you watching me brush my teeth?
BOY Am I making you uncomfortable?
GIRL Are you creepy and have bad morning breath?
BOY Duly noted.
(He takes his toothbrush, they continue together. She spits, rinses, and takes her toothbrush to her bag by the door. She sits and pulls on her shoes. He walks back into the kitchen, checks the clock on his phone, moves moodily to the CD player. She appears in the doorway, suddenly very close to him.)
GIRL What time is it?
BOY It's 7:55.
GIRL (urgently) You didn't even check your phone, are you sure?
BOY (irritated) Yes, I just checked it, ok?
GIRL (The time sinks in, she takes a step forward.)

Cheers

A few nice words from one person give me new zest and motivation to keep moving forward. Currently suffused with satisfaction and the first few tingles of excitement and hopefulness. I doubt I am glowing, though I am looking forward to the bike ride home through the cooling air and the faint smell of a coming storm.

This summer has been progressive for my reading list. Already finished:
The Feminine Mystique, Betty Friedan
The Woman Who Walked to Russia, Cassandra Pybus
The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho
City of Bones, Cassandra Clare
City of Ashes, Cassandra Clare

Currently reading:
The Village of Waiting, George Packer
Anthology of Poetry, Mary Oliver
Les Contes Fantastiques de Maupassant

Next up:
The Quiet American, the author of which I have forgotten.

Also, I probably should start looking for audition material and maybe even think about reading the plays for next semester. Hmm.

Retrospection and introspection has hit a low point today. Right now there is only prospection.

Not Sure

Reality fades like smoke in the dusk
Was it all a dream
Was it all a dream?

A First Try, Part 1

GIRL is awake, watching BOY, who is asleep. The phone alarm goes off. BOY turns it off, looks at GIRL. She raises her eyebrows, pause.

BOY It's 7:30.
Beat.
GIRL Yeah.
She puts her arm around him, lays her head on his chest. He pauses- then holds her arm to his chest with one hand.
GIRL I had a strange dream last night. Can- I don't know, can someone dream a song?
BOY How did it go?
Pause.
GIRL It was really bad.
BOY Yes, I'm sure, so how did it go?
GIRL I, well- it was like, (uncomfortable, sings)
Sweet little twinkle eye
This long day has passed you by
You're in a tired darkened place
Where I can no longer see your face
(She stops.)
BOY Is that it?
GIRL What do you mean, 'is that it?'
BOY I mean, was there any more?
GIRL Oh. No. Well, it was a whole song in my dream, but I can't remember it. It doesn't matter anyway, it's silly.
BOY I thought it was sweet.
GIRL Just a silly dream.
BOY (Pulls her closer) It was not silly, my little nightmare.
GIRL Hey! (She pokes, tickles him.)
BOY (slightly irritated) Are you finished?
GIRL (pulls away quickly) Never. Never finished. (Pause) What time is it?
BOY 7:34.
GIRL I'm sorry about last night. I just love- really really like being with you and I wish it could last forever and I didn't mean- I didn't want to block you off or make it all about me or something. It's the only time I feel you really here with me.
BOY Mmhm. I need to eat.
(He gets up, pulls on jeans, and walks out the bedroom, down the hallway, to the kitchen. She sits up slowly, pulls on her clothes, sits on edge of bed. He notices she hasn't followed him, returns to the doorway.)
BOY Are you coming?
GIRL Oh. (Follows him to kitchen.) You're eating cereal today?
BOY Yes. And so are you. (Pushes the bowl already out towards her.)
GIRL (opening fridge) Don't you have any eggs?
BOY No.
(GIRL plays "Ma Préférence" by Julien Clerc on CD player.)
BOY Already?
GIRL I like this song. Makes me sad though, I think because it sounds like me inside. (She starts eating.) I wish I knew what it meant.
BOY It means
"I know
you can't believe me faithful to what she is,
and already you speak of her in the past tense,
but still she is my preference to me."
GIRL You speak french?
BOY Yes.
GIRL For how long?
BOY Since I was 18. (Listening to song, smiles.)
"Maybe she loves my uncertainty,
maybe I love her loneliness."
(Pause.)
GIRL What are you going to do today?
BOY I have to work at 10. Tonight, (shrugs) I'll meet up with some people. Go to a bar.
GIRL Sounds pretty routine. What time is it?
BOY 7:42.

All Dried Up

It's not that I no longer have things to say, it's that I've lost the will to say them.

I'm going home early today.

Heritage

Last night I finished The Woman Who Walked to Russia by Cassandra Pybus. In fact, the conclusion was that, though Lillian Ailing did walk the Telegraph Line through British Columbia and Alaska, it was not in order to find the Northwestern Passage to Siberia and eventually into Russia. Although that would have been incredible, it also would have been quite impossible. Instead, she walked to Alaska to follow a man. OF course. She hopped on a train spanning an entire country from New York to northwest British Columbia and then spent the next three years walking the length of Alaska to find her boyfriend. She never actually found the man she was looking for, but she ended up marrying some other hunter/trapper and probably spent the rest of her days in relative isolation in the Yukon territory. All in all, it doesn't sound like too bad of a legend to leave behind.

Cassandra Pybus followed Lillian's trek (not walking it, of course) through BC and Alaska. In Alaska, she started reading Into the Wild, the popular book recounting the adventures and eventual tragedy of Chris McCandless. I felt a bit of irony because one of my friends had just been telling me about this book, which I have not yet read, and her account and opinion of the story echoed so much the conversations Cassandra had with several young Americans hiking or backpacking or living in America. Mrs. Pybus, who is Australian, was at a loss to fully understand the idolization by these people of a young man who gave up everything to attempt to live off the land in the harsh Yukon wilderness without proper knowledge or tools. "Hubris," she called it, but I understand the awe and admiration of the young Americans. I am one, after all.

In Alaska, Pybus met another Australian and his English wife who ran a small hostel and had also obviously read the book- evidently everyone in Alaska has read it. They offered her their point of view, based on the fact that this desire for adventure and travel in the wilderness seems to be somewhat of an anomoly to North American culture: that we American have picked up the traditions of the Native peoples, as almost every Native American tribe includes the tradition of the vision quest, when a young man (and sometimes woman) would go into the wilderness and wait in one spot for several days for the spiritual guide which would help them and lead them throughout the rest of their lives to make an appearance.

I was suitably intrigued by this theory. It certainly makes sense. While I have not been brought up to believe that a spiritual guide in the form of an animal will appear to me if I take time to travel and know the wilderness of my country, I certainly do believe that there is a measure of truth to the idea that one can "find" him or herself in the trees and the dirt of the woods. It is a tradition of exploration and of rugged individualism that I for one am proud to have found in my American heritage.