Monday, January 09, 2006

My morning: A story in two parts

I. First class of the semester. I'm teaching in a closet, I have a student that insists on being called Kramer (why does every male with that last name go by it?), and many more that go by their middle names. I had a roommate like this. Her name was Marcy, but her full name was Jessie Maria Marcelete Young. Honestly. If you want your child to go by a certain name, give them that name.

On the plus side, I had a few students who knew who John Cusack is this time around. One of them even named Better Off Dead. He's my favorite student.

II. I am a creature of habit. When I get on a computer, I check my blog, check my BYU account, check my hotmail account, check blue-beta. In that order. The only possible interruption is when I do the blog run through (start with TB to MF to FJ to AAM, etc.) Today, however, there was another kind of interruption.

I checked my blog, my BYU account, and then logged on to hotmail. And my brain turned off as my stomach started churning and my heart started. . . doing something akin to churning. There was a new email, from BF1. BF1 got married this summer. There was no subject heading, just his name in the sender information. I finally clicked on it, to find it a simple mass email notice that he's changed email addresses.

Why do I do this, every time? And by every time I mean with the two guys I've dated and a few others I wish I had? After it's over, I can't handle contact. I get sick to my stomach, nervous, and start lurching towards a panic attack. This is one of the big reasons I haven't dated much--my emotional well-being can't afford another person on the planet who I might run into when I go shopping in Centerville. And when I meet a guy I could be and should be and just maybe am interested in, I can't do much about it. Because I see the end before the beginning (Is that what qualifies a lunatic, SC?) and talk myself out of it.

This post has no end, because I have no idea how to end it.

2 comments:

InDialect said...

Not lunacy, necessarily. Self Prophecy. Paranoia. Post-modernism. Or just plain not knowing, when you'd like to know so much than your mind inserts something just to fill the blank.

Melyngoch said...

There are two kinds of exes: those you can't be friends with.

Oh, sorry, there's just one kind.

I go by my middle name, because my parents lacked the clairvoyance to recognize that I was going to want to.

 

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