Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Synapse to synapse

I'm having yet another identity crisis. Chad is married. Am I a red head? Should I be in the creative writing track? Do I truly love John Cusack as much as I profess to? Can I like another guy if it means getting hurt?

So, many many questions and not so many answers. Part of me just wants to curl up with Szymborska and part of me knows that I can't handle that much beauty tonight. I'm in love with much of the world, but am afraid to approach the world. I don't want to be hurt again and I know I can deal with the kind of hurt I'm feeling right now, because I've done that for so long. And I keep trying to avoid intensifiers, but there isn't anything else there for me to use tonight. Which must mean that I'm being overly dramatic and should go to bed. But you're not my mother. And I don't go to bed when my mother tells me to. Let's hear it for early-adulthood rebellion.

(I should end there, but I really am perplexed: is my hair red?)

7 comments:

editorgirl said...

I refuse to post again tonight, but I'm dwelling. I just looked him up on Target's gift registry and had two opposite-end-of-my-spectrum reactions: I teared up that he was creating a life with someone else and I wanted to buy them everything that they didn't receive. Well, everything except the truly tacky bathroom accessories.

Master Fob said...

Answers:

1. I do not consider you a redhead. Therefore you are not. Unless you really really want to be.

2. I did the creative writing track and I really liked it. Mainly because I didn't have to do a real thesis. As Tolkien Boy has recently reminded me, though, a creative writing degree is absolutely useless. The fact that I am just barely getting by with two part-time jobs now that I have my master's may support this assertion. And you already have a real thesis in mind, so you should stick with the literature emphasis (though you'll have to decide on Brit or American) and just take lots of 518 classes and maybe a 617 if someone good is teaching it.

3. Yes you do. Someone has to.

4. You can and you probably will. Liking is not a logical thing and the prospect or even surety of getting hurt usually doesn't stop anyone. Sooner or later you will like one of the many guys who surely like you, and you'll mate and have a beautiful family. And until then you have friends to help you deal with the hurt.

emily sonntag said...

I say you're strawberry blonde.

ambrosia ananas said...

Hmmm. I've never thought of you as having red hair or even anything close. I'll have to look more closely next time and see if I've been missing something.

editorgirl said...

I'm glad Master Fob can tell me what's what. Really. I am. So much, that I want to respond to his answers (it's kind of like the question-answer-question formula I teach my students, but not).

1. I don't want to be. (I'll agree with Laulau that I'm strawberry blonde. I used to be really really really blonde.)

2. I just found out I might be able to do a half-half thesis. And I'm taking 617 with Kim Johnson, who is brilliant.

3. This is true. And he's so easy to love.

4. I'm going to save my response to this for an entire post of it's own. Although I think Master Fob has taken it upon himself to make some mighty assumptions.

5. (Yes, I know there wasn't a five, but we've already established that I can't count.) Master Fob is a wonderful person to have on your side. . . oh dear. Yet another Hallmark sentiment.

Master Fob said...

1. Okay.

2. I approve.

3. Meh. I suppose.

4. Great, now I have to wonder exactly how I've put my foot in my mouth until you write that promised post.

5. Thank you.

editorgirl said...

In regards to Master Fob answer #4: I was just surprised by the statement that "sooner or later you will like one of the many guys who surely like you." No foot in mouth, just, well. . . I'm keeping myself from ranting about how I only function in the friend/editor role when it comes to guys. Even my first boyfriend was the result of him being rejected by another girl and needing my shoulder to cry on. . . There I go. Stopping now. Will write bad poetry about it instead.

 

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