So I guess a lot has transpired that I haven't blogged about, mainly because it's all been happening leaving no time for blogging.
First of all, today is the big Christmas concert (today at 3:30) and the big semester dance (tonight at 10). I had absolutely no idea that I was supposed to be playing in this concert until Tuesday of this week, when the person who runs the small ensemble I'm involved with on campus said he would have to fail me if I didn't show up (meanwhile all semester he had known I wasn't intending on going to the concert because instrumentalists have no set in the concert, so there is literally no point at all in my being there because they hire a full orchestra and I will merely be in the background). So that was that, I'm pretty pissed about it actually but I'm going anyway. I have to be down there at 11:45 and until then I'm working on homework (clearly) and practicing my violin. What I would like to know is, how can he threaten to fail me when it's a pass fail course that no one even gets credit for. Basically it's a club that shows upon your transcript. Fuckin ridiculous.
The dance is tonight and it should be a great time. I'm going with this girl from my research methods class who I asked to go with me way back when, and this other girl (from my lacrosse team) who I bought at the date auction the week before Thanksgving for 17 bucks, her date (also from the lacrosse team) who she bought at the date auction for 13 bucks, and that girl's date (her best friend). It's basically one big shenanigan. It's actually really funny because I'm not even technically going with my girlfriend, who is technically going with my best friend (also from the lacrosse team). I think she is a little concerned about me going with the girl from my research methods class (who would do basically anything for attention and who hits shamelessly on me all the time) but it'll be fine. Everybody will have a good time.
So yeah, I thought about some stuff and figured out my confusion, and now there is very little left to be confused about. I told her that I know she's a senior, and she'll be graduating and she has a life and she might not even like girls (though she assures me she likes me, she doesn't know if it's just me or if it's that she is really bisexual or gay), but that at this point in time right here and right now I want to be with her, and only her. It's causing a very small ruckus amongst our groups of friends, for example my best friend from school (her roommate) basically hates her guts because she talks about me all the time, and one of her best friends who never got along with me has for all intents and purposes abandoned her as a friend. It's an odd situation but it is what it is. Like she says, we care about each other and that's all that matters. She's a great person and I consider myself very fortunate to be spending time with her and getting to know her on a different level than when we were just friends.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Sick
I hardly ever get sick, but when I do I give being sick a whole new meaning.
Tuesdays are my lightests days, thankfully, or else I would probably be in a puddle of tears right now.
I'm super congested, I wish someone would just rip my throat out so it would stop hurting, I feel like my head is probably going to explode. I just feel generally not okay at all, and the scary part is that it feels like it's going to be getting worse before it gets better.
I don't want to get anyone sick, and I particularly don't want to get anyone sick or still be sick before this weekend (there's a party Friday night and a big fancy semiformal dance on Saturday).
I look forward to coming back to my room after class and just sleeping.
Tuesdays are my lightests days, thankfully, or else I would probably be in a puddle of tears right now.
I'm super congested, I wish someone would just rip my throat out so it would stop hurting, I feel like my head is probably going to explode. I just feel generally not okay at all, and the scary part is that it feels like it's going to be getting worse before it gets better.
I don't want to get anyone sick, and I particularly don't want to get anyone sick or still be sick before this weekend (there's a party Friday night and a big fancy semiformal dance on Saturday).
I look forward to coming back to my room after class and just sleeping.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
The Catcher in the Rye
It's my last night at home over Thanksgiving break, and my first night back from Washington.
It was a great trip. I was dreading it for the most part but it turned out alright and we all had a good time and saw a lot of awesome stuff (D.C. really is a pretty amazing city).
There's nothing like knowing I have to go back in a few hours to make me feel like I never want to leave, and there is certainly nothing like reuniting with all of my best friends only to have them ripped away from me yet again. Scattered to the winds, all leading different lives.
I've never experienced anything like this before. I just want to hold them and never let them go and fight life away and fight terrible things away and fight grief and pain away so they never have to feel any of it. I've known grief and pain all my life. I've also known so much joy and so much happiness that you can't even imagine. I know if I hold them and never let them go, they won't experience the pain, but they also won't experience the joy. Which is why I let go when I hug them goodbye, and they go off into the world and they go off into the lives they are creating for themselves and they are happy. And sometimes there is pain and sometimes there is struggle, but the best we can do as friends is to be there for one and other. I hope I've been there for them enough, and I hope they know that no matter what, I am ALWAYS here for them. I will never forget about the people who loved me first.
Driving through town tonight I watched saw lawn chairs splayed out in driveways. Old men who smoke too much, who watch the years go by and listen to the trains die away in the distance. Young people who dream and know and do, who watch the summers fade to falls fade to winters and burst into springs. The lawn chairs never leave, nor do the old men, but the young people, like the train songs, fade into the distance and become a part of the town's memory. We have the distinct pleasure of being living memories, we dreamers and thinkers and doers. It is a great honour and a great burden.
I miss the summer breezes and the way the weeping cherry branches feel against pale cheeks and how the air is perfumed with the smell of azaeleas. I miss bare feet sweeping along the gravelly driveway, and bare heads sitting beneath the warm sun. I can't wait to sit in the lawn chairs again, like the old days, and talk nothing and eat strawberries and blackberries and blueberries. It's like time is stuck there for an hour or two, the town's memory hangs there and we're all young again and we're all great again and we will all achieve greatness and our hopes and our dreams are limitless.
A very happy late Thanksgiving to all and a very merry beginning to your holiday season.
It was a great trip. I was dreading it for the most part but it turned out alright and we all had a good time and saw a lot of awesome stuff (D.C. really is a pretty amazing city).
There's nothing like knowing I have to go back in a few hours to make me feel like I never want to leave, and there is certainly nothing like reuniting with all of my best friends only to have them ripped away from me yet again. Scattered to the winds, all leading different lives.
I've never experienced anything like this before. I just want to hold them and never let them go and fight life away and fight terrible things away and fight grief and pain away so they never have to feel any of it. I've known grief and pain all my life. I've also known so much joy and so much happiness that you can't even imagine. I know if I hold them and never let them go, they won't experience the pain, but they also won't experience the joy. Which is why I let go when I hug them goodbye, and they go off into the world and they go off into the lives they are creating for themselves and they are happy. And sometimes there is pain and sometimes there is struggle, but the best we can do as friends is to be there for one and other. I hope I've been there for them enough, and I hope they know that no matter what, I am ALWAYS here for them. I will never forget about the people who loved me first.
Driving through town tonight I watched saw lawn chairs splayed out in driveways. Old men who smoke too much, who watch the years go by and listen to the trains die away in the distance. Young people who dream and know and do, who watch the summers fade to falls fade to winters and burst into springs. The lawn chairs never leave, nor do the old men, but the young people, like the train songs, fade into the distance and become a part of the town's memory. We have the distinct pleasure of being living memories, we dreamers and thinkers and doers. It is a great honour and a great burden.
I miss the summer breezes and the way the weeping cherry branches feel against pale cheeks and how the air is perfumed with the smell of azaeleas. I miss bare feet sweeping along the gravelly driveway, and bare heads sitting beneath the warm sun. I can't wait to sit in the lawn chairs again, like the old days, and talk nothing and eat strawberries and blackberries and blueberries. It's like time is stuck there for an hour or two, the town's memory hangs there and we're all young again and we're all great again and we will all achieve greatness and our hopes and our dreams are limitless.
A very happy late Thanksgiving to all and a very merry beginning to your holiday season.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Fried Green Tomatoes
The trip to DC was basically uneventful. I drove home yesterday (it takes about two hours from school to home) and then we drove all the way back up today to Framingham to take the Logan Express in to Logan. The flight was very short and very uneventful. We were right on the wing so I had to lean really far back into the person behind me or get on top of the person in front of me in order to look out the window (which I did, cause I have no shame).
I finally finished Fried Green Tomatoes while at the airport waiting to leave this evening. I don't get much time for leisure reading but when I have the opportunity I take full advantage of it.
My God, what a good book. I feel like I've never read anything like it before. I feel like my heart hasn't ached so badly for something to not be over in a very long time. I remember the same ache when I finished The Last Battle in the sixth grade and I cried for a week, not because all of the kids on those beautiful pages I had known and loved for an entire summer had all died in a train crash after seven books (I'm refering to The Chronicles of Narnia in case you are unfamiliar) but because it was over. The magic was over. Sure I can (and do) reread the Narnia stories, but there is something different about reading them as a child, and there is something absent when you reread a story. The mystery is dead, you turn a page and it is the same as the last time you turned it.
The point is, I am very achey right now after having finished Fried Green Tomatoes. It might not have been a good idea for me to read it around Thanksgiving, either, because now I am not only aching at the fact that it is over, but I severely miss the old days.
I miss the old neighbourhood, with Grampa Fred and Mary and the tomatoes that grew bright red along the chain link fence, with Miss Bubba and Turbo who would greet me every day after school. Miss Bubba would take me into her arms and hold me like I was her own little girl, and Turbo the little Sheltie would run across the street and shepherd me onto the sidewalk like a good babysitter. Grampa Fred got cancer when I was five. I still remember being ushered into the house to say goodbye to the man who had loved me like a grandfather and seeing all the machines helping to keep him alive for a little while longer. Mary died after we left the old neighbourhood. Daddy always told me she was alive and well, but after he died I found out he had only been lieing to me, to keep me from being too upset. Miss Bubba always smoked like a chimney. I remember bringing her one of my favourite stuffed animals and telling her she could have it, if only she would stop smoking. She took the toy and told me she would do her best. I went back a few years ago to visit her and saw the black and white dalmatian stuffed animal on the back of her couch, and the lingering smell of decades of smoke perfumed the air. But I think she quit, I have to think she quit. I love her so much still, and I know she loved the little red haired girl who would bring her beautiful leaves and art projects from school. I remember running into Mary and Grampa Fred's house, completely uninvited but completely welcome, in search of the peanuts I knew they always had.
My parents told me of the time that a transformer exploded right outside the house and they couldn't get out of the front gate, so they handed me (I was an infant) over the fence to Grampa Fred and Mary to keep me safe. They were the closed people I had to true grandparents, besides my maternal grandmother who has lost all her faculties at this point in time.
I miss Thanksgiving with my family in the old days. Mom and Dad and I would drive up to New Hampshire to my aunt's house and the whole family would be there. My four aunts and their husbands and my uncle and his wife, my eleven cousins and their spouses and their children, and my grandmother if she could make it. There was a kids table, where I sat until I was twelve years old, and then Thanksgiving stopped being a family tradition and I never got to sit with the adults (SUPER upset about that aspect of this whole shenanigan). And then the family drifted apart, and now we are lucky if we see each other sporadically in the span of a year. We all live up and down the East Coast, from New Hampshire and Vermont to North Carolina, Virgina and Florida.
I just want to hold my Mom and Dad's hands and walk into the warm mud room of my aunts house, being greeted by warm smiles and hugs and kisses that make your cheeks raw and red, hugs and kisses that you dread until they are long gone and then you want nothing more in the world than to be hugged and kissed by your family and your neighbors who you can never see again. I'm not a little girl anymore, I can't take my parents in each hand and walk into the bright kitchen and ask my aunt for a glass of tap water and head down the hill to the trampoline with my cousins. I can't get out of the little red Horizon and watch Turbo scamper across the street and greet me with a wagging tail. I can only see those things in my memory, a memory that I cherish so much these days.
I love and miss you all, my family and long lost friends. You made me who I am today, all of you. Happy Thanksgiving, wherever you are.
I finally finished Fried Green Tomatoes while at the airport waiting to leave this evening. I don't get much time for leisure reading but when I have the opportunity I take full advantage of it.
My God, what a good book. I feel like I've never read anything like it before. I feel like my heart hasn't ached so badly for something to not be over in a very long time. I remember the same ache when I finished The Last Battle in the sixth grade and I cried for a week, not because all of the kids on those beautiful pages I had known and loved for an entire summer had all died in a train crash after seven books (I'm refering to The Chronicles of Narnia in case you are unfamiliar) but because it was over. The magic was over. Sure I can (and do) reread the Narnia stories, but there is something different about reading them as a child, and there is something absent when you reread a story. The mystery is dead, you turn a page and it is the same as the last time you turned it.
The point is, I am very achey right now after having finished Fried Green Tomatoes. It might not have been a good idea for me to read it around Thanksgiving, either, because now I am not only aching at the fact that it is over, but I severely miss the old days.
I miss the old neighbourhood, with Grampa Fred and Mary and the tomatoes that grew bright red along the chain link fence, with Miss Bubba and Turbo who would greet me every day after school. Miss Bubba would take me into her arms and hold me like I was her own little girl, and Turbo the little Sheltie would run across the street and shepherd me onto the sidewalk like a good babysitter. Grampa Fred got cancer when I was five. I still remember being ushered into the house to say goodbye to the man who had loved me like a grandfather and seeing all the machines helping to keep him alive for a little while longer. Mary died after we left the old neighbourhood. Daddy always told me she was alive and well, but after he died I found out he had only been lieing to me, to keep me from being too upset. Miss Bubba always smoked like a chimney. I remember bringing her one of my favourite stuffed animals and telling her she could have it, if only she would stop smoking. She took the toy and told me she would do her best. I went back a few years ago to visit her and saw the black and white dalmatian stuffed animal on the back of her couch, and the lingering smell of decades of smoke perfumed the air. But I think she quit, I have to think she quit. I love her so much still, and I know she loved the little red haired girl who would bring her beautiful leaves and art projects from school. I remember running into Mary and Grampa Fred's house, completely uninvited but completely welcome, in search of the peanuts I knew they always had.
My parents told me of the time that a transformer exploded right outside the house and they couldn't get out of the front gate, so they handed me (I was an infant) over the fence to Grampa Fred and Mary to keep me safe. They were the closed people I had to true grandparents, besides my maternal grandmother who has lost all her faculties at this point in time.
I miss Thanksgiving with my family in the old days. Mom and Dad and I would drive up to New Hampshire to my aunt's house and the whole family would be there. My four aunts and their husbands and my uncle and his wife, my eleven cousins and their spouses and their children, and my grandmother if she could make it. There was a kids table, where I sat until I was twelve years old, and then Thanksgiving stopped being a family tradition and I never got to sit with the adults (SUPER upset about that aspect of this whole shenanigan). And then the family drifted apart, and now we are lucky if we see each other sporadically in the span of a year. We all live up and down the East Coast, from New Hampshire and Vermont to North Carolina, Virgina and Florida.
I just want to hold my Mom and Dad's hands and walk into the warm mud room of my aunts house, being greeted by warm smiles and hugs and kisses that make your cheeks raw and red, hugs and kisses that you dread until they are long gone and then you want nothing more in the world than to be hugged and kissed by your family and your neighbors who you can never see again. I'm not a little girl anymore, I can't take my parents in each hand and walk into the bright kitchen and ask my aunt for a glass of tap water and head down the hill to the trampoline with my cousins. I can't get out of the little red Horizon and watch Turbo scamper across the street and greet me with a wagging tail. I can only see those things in my memory, a memory that I cherish so much these days.
I love and miss you all, my family and long lost friends. You made me who I am today, all of you. Happy Thanksgiving, wherever you are.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Craziness
I feel very awkward about this whole situation that I've found myself in, and it's difficult to express exactly how awkward it is so bear with me.
So I slept over her dorm Thursday-Friday, and then my best friend (her roommate) and my roommate both found out about it. She went home for the weekend, only to come back Saturday evening because she wanted to see me, and I ended up staying over there again Saturday-Sunday. She slept over here last night. My roommate doesn't really care because she knows I like girls and she was my roommate when I was in a relationship (a super messy and terrible relationship) last semester. My best friend just thinks it is hilarious, because her roommate is "straight." Which is what I don't get. How can you call yourself straight when you're sleeping with a chick and you are making it known that you are sleeping with a chick.
Be straight, or bisexual, or gay, or whatever you are or whatever you want to be or whatever you have to be. I wish there was a way to go through that "confusion" phase without dragging people who know who they are and what they want into the confusion.
She's acting like this is a huge issue, like it's a big deal, which it is for her but I feel like most people who are aware of this situation have forgotten that there are two people here: she and I. I know it's a big deal for her because she's never been in a situation like this before, and it might not seem like a big deal for me because everybody on this campus knows I'm terribly out and terribly proud, but I'd just like to know what's going on with everything. I feel very out of the loop.
I'm not even sure how I feel about her anymore. I obviously like her or else I wouldn't spend time with her and stuff, and she is a really good friend of mine. She took me to my first Ani concert the Sunday before last, and we went to Tegan and Sara together (with her roommate/my best friend and my best guy friend), she visited me in Connecticut even though she lives in East Jesus Nowhere, MA, my friends are her friends and her friends are my friends. She is a great friend and I wouldn't trade her for the world, and I especially don't want her to get hurt (and I myself would prefer to not be hurt, also). I'm not even sure if I want to be in a relationship with anyone, or that I am ready to be "the first" for someone (much less a great friend of mine).
Everything is very out of control right now. This "thing" has taken on a life of its own. Thanksgiving break should be good, everybody can just calm down for a few days.
So I slept over her dorm Thursday-Friday, and then my best friend (her roommate) and my roommate both found out about it. She went home for the weekend, only to come back Saturday evening because she wanted to see me, and I ended up staying over there again Saturday-Sunday. She slept over here last night. My roommate doesn't really care because she knows I like girls and she was my roommate when I was in a relationship (a super messy and terrible relationship) last semester. My best friend just thinks it is hilarious, because her roommate is "straight." Which is what I don't get. How can you call yourself straight when you're sleeping with a chick and you are making it known that you are sleeping with a chick.
Be straight, or bisexual, or gay, or whatever you are or whatever you want to be or whatever you have to be. I wish there was a way to go through that "confusion" phase without dragging people who know who they are and what they want into the confusion.
She's acting like this is a huge issue, like it's a big deal, which it is for her but I feel like most people who are aware of this situation have forgotten that there are two people here: she and I. I know it's a big deal for her because she's never been in a situation like this before, and it might not seem like a big deal for me because everybody on this campus knows I'm terribly out and terribly proud, but I'd just like to know what's going on with everything. I feel very out of the loop.
I'm not even sure how I feel about her anymore. I obviously like her or else I wouldn't spend time with her and stuff, and she is a really good friend of mine. She took me to my first Ani concert the Sunday before last, and we went to Tegan and Sara together (with her roommate/my best friend and my best guy friend), she visited me in Connecticut even though she lives in East Jesus Nowhere, MA, my friends are her friends and her friends are my friends. She is a great friend and I wouldn't trade her for the world, and I especially don't want her to get hurt (and I myself would prefer to not be hurt, also). I'm not even sure if I want to be in a relationship with anyone, or that I am ready to be "the first" for someone (much less a great friend of mine).
Everything is very out of control right now. This "thing" has taken on a life of its own. Thanksgiving break should be good, everybody can just calm down for a few days.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
It's a Beautiful Day
The sun is fading through the yellow dusty panes. 3:30 in the afternoon and we rub the sleep from our eyes and stare into blank text books. We travel hallways, bare feet and empty conversation. Blue eyes brown eyes green eyes black eyes, they all look right through you. A cheery coke dangles precariously off the edge of the counter and spills into the heater. The room will smell like burning cherries for years. A pile of books stacked higher than the window fan suffocates us in our sleep, impedes the view of the trees and trees and trees and miles and miles and miles of nothingness and everything, of academia and forest, of higher learning and the places we came from. Basketball shorts strewn across the floor, dvds out of their boxes, out of the alphabetical by genre order they were placed in in September. Candy wrappers and instrument cases. A lonely lacrosse stick that won't see the outside world until the ground is no longer hard with frost. Grey sneakers and brown sneakers and white sneakers, red flip flops and black flip flops and dirty flip flops and worn out flip flops.
I can see the world fading with the setting sun, the trees become shadows and the world looks dark and empty, and suddenly there is only me, and there is only my dorm room, filled with flip flops and instruments and lacrosse sticks and books.
Sometimes I think my world begins and ends from the window sill to the doorway, and then the sun rises and then I step outside and I am amazed. Always amazed.
Today has been a good day.
I can see the world fading with the setting sun, the trees become shadows and the world looks dark and empty, and suddenly there is only me, and there is only my dorm room, filled with flip flops and instruments and lacrosse sticks and books.
Sometimes I think my world begins and ends from the window sill to the doorway, and then the sun rises and then I step outside and I am amazed. Always amazed.
Today has been a good day.
Friday, November 21, 2008
You Have To Be You
I guess this post is about being confused. I've been there before so I know what it's like, certainly. I guess I've just never been the cause of someone's confusion before, that I'm aware of at least. I'm not really in to the general Thursday night festivities that go on on most college campuses, but last night was the exception. Two of my friends and I split two bottles of wine and a bottle of vodka while watching Season 3 of the L Word. Meanwhile, while all of this was going on, I had taken two sudafed not more than 10 minutes before we started drinking on an almost empty stomach and, although I didn't get sick, I did get drunk pretty quick.
I got sick (couldn't stop sneezing, super congested, couldn't breathe hardly through my nose) in the 45 minutes between research methods and lab yesterday. I was so congested and there was so much pressure behind my left eye that I gave myself a black eye (literally gave myself a black eye, I'm chaulking it up to the amount of pressure behind my eye and the fact that I kept rubbing it because it was watery).
So there I was, drunk with a black eye, on a futon with my best friend at college and the cofounder and copresident of the GSA who was passed out on my right and her roommate who was watching the L word with me on my left. Eventually the effects of the sudafed/wine wore off for me, and the effects of the alcohol wore off for theother two, and we were just tired, laying in the dark. I lay there for a long time listening to my best friend's sleep breathing and watching the L word with her roommate.
And then suddenly I was kissing my best friend's roommate.
And then suddenly I was in her bed.
And then suddenly it was 8:30 in the morning and I was walking across campus back to my room. My roommate was sitting at her computer when I walked into the room and all she said to be was "Oh my God Rachel I've been worried sick about you you have no idea you need to call me the next time you have an impromtu sleep over I was worried sick up till 3 am..." (she said this all in one breath) and then she saw my neck and she said "hold on girl you need to sit down and tell me everything," which I didn't obviously because that would be rude, and I proceeded to sleep from 8:30 to 1:30 in the afternoon.
I knew my best friend's roommate was confused, and I know how easy it is to be confused. The girl loves Ani Difranco and plaid, let's be real. Totally kidding, big stereotypage, many apologies. My best friend knows all about it now from when she woke up and was confronted with her roommate's neck. She seems to think it was beneficial for her roommate, which is a relief for me because I feel bad to be adding to her confusion. At least she knows me and can trust me and she wasn't going out and getting trashed and hooking up with some random stranger.
I guess I'm just confused for her. I personally think labels make life easier, but at the same time they oversimplify things. What I told her today I think is applicable to most situations, in regards to her feeling of being pressured into choosing a category for herself from the day she entered college (she is now a senior): Going to a women's college doesn't make you a lesbian, liking girls doesn't make you a lesbian and even sleeping with girls doesn't make you a lesbian. As much as I joke about it, you are what you are and what you identify yourself as and that's that. You can't be what anyone else wants to classify you as, you have to be you.
I really like her, but I think I really like her as a friend, which is where my own confusion comes in to play. Not to mention the fact that I don't think she is interested in dating anyone (male or female), I think she is interested in discovering who she is, and I'm glad I could play a role, even a small role, in the formulation of her own self image, and that she could play a role in mine.
It's just a lot to think about, and I tend to overthink things far too much as it is.
"...or if the weather was bad, you could just sit under the yellow light on your front porch and enjoy the sound of the rain hitting the tin roofs."
- Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe
I got sick (couldn't stop sneezing, super congested, couldn't breathe hardly through my nose) in the 45 minutes between research methods and lab yesterday. I was so congested and there was so much pressure behind my left eye that I gave myself a black eye (literally gave myself a black eye, I'm chaulking it up to the amount of pressure behind my eye and the fact that I kept rubbing it because it was watery).
So there I was, drunk with a black eye, on a futon with my best friend at college and the cofounder and copresident of the GSA who was passed out on my right and her roommate who was watching the L word with me on my left. Eventually the effects of the sudafed/wine wore off for me, and the effects of the alcohol wore off for theother two, and we were just tired, laying in the dark. I lay there for a long time listening to my best friend's sleep breathing and watching the L word with her roommate.
And then suddenly I was kissing my best friend's roommate.
And then suddenly I was in her bed.
And then suddenly it was 8:30 in the morning and I was walking across campus back to my room. My roommate was sitting at her computer when I walked into the room and all she said to be was "Oh my God Rachel I've been worried sick about you you have no idea you need to call me the next time you have an impromtu sleep over I was worried sick up till 3 am..." (she said this all in one breath) and then she saw my neck and she said "hold on girl you need to sit down and tell me everything," which I didn't obviously because that would be rude, and I proceeded to sleep from 8:30 to 1:30 in the afternoon.
I knew my best friend's roommate was confused, and I know how easy it is to be confused. The girl loves Ani Difranco and plaid, let's be real. Totally kidding, big stereotypage, many apologies. My best friend knows all about it now from when she woke up and was confronted with her roommate's neck. She seems to think it was beneficial for her roommate, which is a relief for me because I feel bad to be adding to her confusion. At least she knows me and can trust me and she wasn't going out and getting trashed and hooking up with some random stranger.
I guess I'm just confused for her. I personally think labels make life easier, but at the same time they oversimplify things. What I told her today I think is applicable to most situations, in regards to her feeling of being pressured into choosing a category for herself from the day she entered college (she is now a senior): Going to a women's college doesn't make you a lesbian, liking girls doesn't make you a lesbian and even sleeping with girls doesn't make you a lesbian. As much as I joke about it, you are what you are and what you identify yourself as and that's that. You can't be what anyone else wants to classify you as, you have to be you.
I really like her, but I think I really like her as a friend, which is where my own confusion comes in to play. Not to mention the fact that I don't think she is interested in dating anyone (male or female), I think she is interested in discovering who she is, and I'm glad I could play a role, even a small role, in the formulation of her own self image, and that she could play a role in mine.
It's just a lot to think about, and I tend to overthink things far too much as it is.
"...or if the weather was bad, you could just sit under the yellow light on your front porch and enjoy the sound of the rain hitting the tin roofs."
- Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe
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