I should know myself better

I’ve been back from Spring Break for a week now, and even though I always profess to be so self-sufficient and stoic, my little introverted heart sometimes needs to be reminded that “yes, people do indeed like you. You are not abnormal. Well, you may be abnormal, but some people still like you.”

It’s a Saturday, culturally stereotyped as a “social day” but as of late I haven’t really been psyched to the sorts of social activities available to me at present. I’ve also been a little ticked at Haverford for not welcoming me back with open arms (teachers and students alike), and have felt a little on the periphery of my ordinarily peripheral social network. [Note subtle use of present perfect tense…]

Today, I unexpectedly [and clearly due to the Spanish earrings with magical powers] reopened the lines of communication with several good people whom I miss. Ran into Marni outside the library on a glorious sunny afternoon; finally sent an email to Sarah so we could make plans; received a concerned IM regarding an ambiguously irked away message. When I put it up I suppose I was, a little consciously, asking for someone to pay attention to my semi-turbulent state of mind, stressed about thesis and not excited about spending Sat. night working on it for two unrelated reasons. 1. I have no other plans, and 2. because my thesis stresses me out. I’m worried that it might not make sense, that the connections don’t go together, and that my advisor(s) don’t ‘get’ what I’m trying to say. That and well, PoMo LitCrit is tough [postmodern literary criticism, for the uninitiated, or non-pretentious. I am neither, lately].

I knew that I needed some attention, and yes, in that whiny “look at me! I’ve got so much work to do!” kind of way, so sue me. I knew that I needed some time out by myself, so I took it. Made myself a dinner worthy of more than sweaty workout clothes and my desk as a dining surface, but hey, it still tastes the same. The creamy fontal cheese from the farmers’ market and sharp parmesan melted over my pasta in my first ever Sauce Mornay, a triumph, if I do say so myself, of rich white goodness and just the right tang. Then to prove, no it’s NOT just about color, a nice dark glass of merlot to accompany and ground the richness with “overtones of berry and an earthy feel” or some crap like that. Whatever it was, it sure as hell made my night, and I feel a little more ready to dive back into my writing project.

That, with my new buttons for my thrift store jacket to replace the gold anchors [ick], makes Saturday a success, no matter how the rest of my night goes =)


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