I am terrible when I have to do something like write an essay. I imagine it to take up my entire days, but if you actually look at how much of them I ACTUALLY WORK, it turns out I hardly work at all. Like now, I am writing on my essay, and after typing down two disheartened sentences, I surf to Oasismag... then back again to the word document which will be my essay, and back to Oasismag or some other distraction. (And I stay at the distraction much longer than with the work.)
you ask me how I liked it.
I say that it was good.
but you just keep on listenig
the shy compliant girl in me
obeys your waiting ears.
spits out more words.
Your waiting ears are flattering,
they're friendly, they're sincere.
I want to be cooperative.
did I - feel?
I felt at times, as if there were -
I'm happy I was here - I think.
Perhaps - I'll cry when I get home.
I am doing some work for school, and I come across this letter (reprinted in an autobiography) which I found fun to read and wanted to share with you: I deleted a few words to conceal the topic she is writing about, but I'll reveal it at the end of the post. It is written by an upper-class woman in England.
Friends of my parents had a baby. It's a boy. When the mom was carrying him and holding him in front of her chest, he grabbed her breast. His dad, a very charming and sociable person, - everybody loves him and wants to be his friend - had to do some straight bonding by making a joke about that. In his amiable and disarming way, he laughed and said: "Haha, he is already very good at that!" Yes, his little 5-months-old son will later be a heterosexual casanova, of course! What other thought could have entered the proud dad's mind?
It is unbelievable how two people can share some events and communication, and they interpret it so differently. I even feel a bit inhibited to write frankly about everything because I don't want anybody to track me down here and know that story. But I want to write. So let's try to push these concerns aside...
I just (yesterday) had to learn that what to me had been committed flirting and mutual interest and affection and respect was actually all that only for me, but not for her. She told me that she had never been interested in me, that I am not her type, that if she had been interested she would not have hesitated to get what she wanted (I feel a bit offended by that... as if I don't have a say in that...), and that she was only flirting because she knows no other way to be. and because I was doing it so intensely. Well maybe I should be grateful that she wasn't denying that she was flirting, that would have really removed my last trust that I can kind of assess what is happening. But even so, I have a hard time understanding that what I thought happened is apparently not what really happened.
I went to C. today, an excursion with K. [LGBT student association] which I organized, to see an art exhibition, mostly about gay and lesbian sexuality and transgender, and it was VERY NICE!!
I have to sort out this fucking phone bill problem of my student house. We have about more than 100 Eurp dept on our account, and this is not my fault, but the girl who took care of the phone bill before I started doing it. And now I have to annoy people who don't even live here any more, and bug them to pay their old dept, and part of the general dept where nobody knows where it comes from. I have so often wanted to simply say: No, I don't want to do this task. It is not my fault. Task rejected. Give me another one. But of course I know it is not possible. Then we get the next angry letter from the bank saying that we need to pay our dept, other wise --- I don't know actually what they will do otherwise. But they seem serious.
Saturday I went to this K. party (K. is my school's LGBT student organization), and I had a funny encounter. One guy S. whom I know from K. introduced me to his friend R.
This is my first post and that makes it difficult. I always want to make beginnings special, and am frightened by them. As if everything that follows will be tainted if the beginning is not good. But now I am already over the difficult part and can proceed to what I want to tell: