Saturday, December 11, 2004
there once was a strange girl called Nome...
who got up on a Friday morning, exhausted, and went to the gyme anyway.
There she hung out with Ren, aforementioned smart gay guy who's always there on Friday mornings. They talked about music, academia, publishing, shoulder sets, everything. He asked her opinion on all sorts of things, seeming genuinely interested, and she was pleased. Not a lot of working out was done, but the Nome has decided that hanging out with gay guys is much more amusing than hanging out with straight ones.
The Nome showered and got ready to leave, but suddenly noticed black spots in front of her eyes and had the strongest urge to pass out, hit her head on the floor, and die. Nome hates migraines. They are evil. Feels like brain burning. She managed to get to school and drop off some papers before coming home, overmedicated, and slept...for five hours. She woke up with a strange sense of time loss, as though having been abducted by aliens. Her day was gone, her evening with the Boy abandoned due to his panicked studying, and her night promised to be a long and awake one.
She went out for Chinese food and to buy a ski helmet, an odd combination of errands for any animal. Her helmet is gray and not terribly attractive. But if she doesn't value the contents of her skull, no one else will ever get the chance.
She came home and watched the end of Hook, one of her favourite movies of all time. It now makes her cry, which is a bit unsettling. She identifies with Peter Pan all grown up more than she would like to admit. She too wishes she could have stayed small and cute and limber, and she too wishes she could fly. Her happy thoughts just aren't that effective anymore.
She rented Mean Girls and watched it late, since she wasn't sleepy yet. It was actually really funny, probably because unlike the sickeningly sappy Hilary Duff, Lindsay Lohan is half-way believable as a real kid. Too bad about her lame little music "career."
Sleep was not forthcoming. Nome stayed up and read a book about sororities called Pledged. It's by this journalist who went undercover with an American sorority for a year. It's some pretty scary stuff -- drugs and racism and eating disorders and date rape. Perhaps scariest of all is the conformity. Nome may not have tons to do every Friday night, but at least her friends don't all look and act alike. Scary!
3:00 am finally brought unconsciousness. Didn't wake up until 11:30, annoyed. No energy to go running, no energy to go to the gyme. At least it's a nice day out.
Today is Day 4 of plans to see the Boy. All others have been cancelled, so my hopes are no longer up. Have to keep rescheduling everything. No one takes into account that it is possible to have a life even when you're not writing exams.
Want to go skiing. Really really badly.
Need to brush up on the Chinese.
Did you know that third-person autobiographical narratives are an excellent sign of the author's insanity. That's right. Don't come any closer.
My room is infested by ladybugs. It's like being invested with kittens, or finding too many four-leafed clovers. I don't really feel that I can complain about it.
Meh.
-N
