Sunday, November 27, 2011

Stream / Flash Flood of Consciousness:

I'm not even gonna apologize for being gone so long again.
I do that every single time & I've been stressed as fuck.
I missed writing on here & I've been thinking about it every single day, but I've been so exhausted, I just couldn't bring myself to sit & get all my thoughts together.
I still love this place more than life itself.

So, Thanksgiving just passed...
I had a nice 4.5 days with the house to myself.
I felt like a 20 year old for the first time in 7 months.
I told myself I'd clean my room up & try to exercise every day as I have been, but in the end, all I did was eat, sleep & dance to The Saturdays.
In other words: I've had a nice little vacay & I'm glad I'm recharged enough to put more effort back into the things I reading magazines...& eating.
I feel like I'm always talking about changing & how I'm constantly trying to make progress on myself for this reason or that reason.
I feel like I say a lot of the same shit over & over on this site, & that's probably because I do.

I was in my ASL (that's American Sign Language, dude) class the other day & in that class is one of the prettiest fucking girls I've ever seen.
We'll call her...Queens
...She's from Queens, NY.
I met her a couple days after I had a major meltdown about not having any friends, in my ASL & I was blown away by not just how gorgeous she was but how friendly she came off.
People in my college don't normally talk to one another in class in less we have to & if someone is super friendly like Queens, it's kind of unnerving.
Basically she's latina or "Spanish" as she told me, she's teeny-tiny maybe 4'9", long black hair, brown eyes & the whitest teeth on the planet.
She immediately engaged me in conversation telling me all about how she moved up from Queens with her boyfriend & lives with him & his mom.
We had the most random conversation right infront of my deaf ASL teacher that went something along the lines of:
Queens: I'm Spanish. What are you?
Me: Black.
Queens: Oh My God, if you lived where I'm from, everyone would think you're Dominican. Your hair & everything.
Me: Huh.
Queens: Do you have a lot of friends?
Me: ...No. You?
Queens: No.
After that, we traded identical stories about our lack of friends & hatred of parties & I literally believed I'd found someone that could be my new best friend.

Fast forward to...two days later:
Queens didn't sit near me but sat with another girl instead & started talking to her like she had been talking to me 2 days earlier.
& ever since that first day of talking to Queens, she has gone from my potential BFF/girl-crush to an utter & complete WTF?
First off, she came in one day with snakebite piercings, the only piercing she had before that (to my knowledge) was her nose & the snakebites totally & completely took away from her natural beauty.
Then recently, she decided she wanted to dred her hair up
...Bad idea.
Her long, perfect black hair is now in tons of messy, unkempt-looking tangles with weird beads mixed in.

What I'm getting to here is, the other day, homegirl didn't show up to class & when someone couldn't remember who "Queens" was by name, the only way one of my classmates could decribe her was by saying she was "small" & " pretty".
When she said that, I found myself agreeing & saying "Yeah, she is really pretty", then a couple other people in the class joined in & agreed that she is, in fact....yup, you guessed it, "pretty".

So it kind of got me thinkin', I wonder how people describe me if I'm not there?
I'm not even gonna play that "I don't care what people think about me" act, because it's bullshit.
I figured, the first thing people will say is, well, that I'm black.
That alone would probably refresh someone's memory enough, because I'm usually the only black woman or person in my class.
I was hoping my weight, or "top heavy" frame wouldn't come next, but who knows?
Does my style set me apart from everyone else in a way that could be remembered?
My hair?
My supreme knowledge & understanding of the world around me?
Get the fuck outta here.

After graduating high school, a nice surprise was finding out most people, even people I didn't really know back then, remembered me as a good writer or at least someone who loved to read & write.
As introverted about my writing as I've always been, I'm not sure how they picked up on my skill, but it meant the world that I was remembered that way.

If you don't want to hear about the same two boys I've been infatuated with & haven't stopped talking about since starting at this school, now is the time to stop reading.

Thanks for sticking around.
At this point, Poetry Boy is long gone.
Haven't heard from him in 11 months, but I know he's alright & that's what matters.
I'd be surprised if he remembers anything about last Fall semester, let alone me.
Sooo, let's just talk about DisasterCrush.
The One.
The Only.
I fucked up a lot in front of this kid, not because I'm a fuck-up, but just because his presence made me so goddamn nervous.
No shit.
The first time I talked to this kid (I'm sure you remember that post), he started asking me question after question, & at one point he asked me something & I couldn't understand what he said, so instead of asking him to repeat it, I completely ignored the fact he asked me anything & started asking him questions of my own.
Like, what the fuck-shit, right?
Then there was the time I was with my friend & I saw him walking toward us.
He & I made eye contact for the longest time & even though I kept trying to carry my conversation, he kept staring at me to say "hi" & we ended up passing each other without saying anything.

It's shit like that that makes me wonder what I look like in his memory, if I ever happen to cross his mind.
Of course, I remember every little thing about him because I had a crush on him but because he was never into me, I wonder how I look in his head.
& I wonder how the way I looked then compares to how I look now?
Does DistasterCrush remember anything from that conversation we had in our advisor's office, or the times I'd see him around campus & avoid eye contact, or the last thing he ever said to me?
Of course, he doesn't.
But we have this god-forsaken social network binding us together as "friends" now, so I wonder what comes to mind when he sees my name on his computer.
I hope it's good things.
I already told you, the dude flew the coop a while ago & he's probably never coming back, much like Poetry Boy.

& now I'm thinking that, one day, when my next potiental suitor comes along, I'll be such a mess from sitting around wondering what my face & my body & my mind look like inside of DisasterCrush's memory, I'll forget that I'm now leaving my mark on someone else's.
Scary thought.
I guess I have to just keep trying.
Keeping up with the postive changes, not worrying about the negative past.

I don't know.
I'm tired & I'm getting nauseous from the ice cream I ate at that shitty Twilight movie I took my cousin to tonight.
The moral of this painfully long post is: Living in the past has gotten me nowhere but stuck inside my own head.
Sometimes it's healthy to look back on lessons learned, but when it starts to impede my future, that can never be a positive thing.

No comments:

Post a Comment