Joshin Jane

Passionfruit
2001-10-31 04:19:48 (UTC)

shard

i just had the most amazing conversation with casey.
had today been awful, this conversation would have erased
all evidence of my having ever been upset.
we are so similar in ways i can't even describe; i wish i
could be as open and silly and caring with every other one
of my friends as i am with him.
"i see so much of myself in you" he told me and it was the warm,
trusting feeling i get when i talk to becky, who i have been close to
for three years now.
even though the level of drama in my life is dropping and
my entries are getting dry and boring, i've been feeling
good and it's still relieving to sit down at the computer
every night and get some things down.
well, there is one bit of dramatic news.
i've been vainly hoping that the possibility of jon's
coming to thanksgiving wasn't ridiculously false.
clearly, i should have been able to deduce from the moment
i asked him that it wasn't a realistic possibility.
i should have realized that it would be awkward.
not an uncomfortable situation, just an awkward one for
him to be in.
i realize that i derange myself daily, using the fraction
of a day i spent with jon as the basis for my dreams of an
ideal relationship.
i talked to casey about how i want a boyfriend and images
from that one night flashed through my mind and i just sat
here, biting my lip and chewing my pen and shredding tiny tears into
a sheet of perfectly good paper, because i know
you can't push a relationship but why can't one just find
me?

i asked mike to invite-a-friend this morning, which didn't
get my day off to a great start.
he had a lot of work to do and his sneaking off campus for
the yankees game tomorrow night would require some planning.
i can see that.
he works a lot.
he goes to bed early like casey every night.
rez, also, was nowhere to be found.
i'm glad that neither of them was available; i needed to
test my limits a little bit.
at some point in the afternoon, emily and i were wandering
in the general vicinity of boys' lower so she could ask
adam and we ran into trey in our meanderings.
i'm so glad my day was going well enough for me to be gutsy
and do something i never would have expected of myself.
i had an awesome time with trey....i think it's great that
we can have a ten minute conversation about the difference
between apple juice and apple cider, and that he'll stand
with me at the grill to make sure my hamburger gets done
even though he could be hanging out and eating already.
i hope i get more of a chance later on to get to know him
because it has been three years but time flies so quickly
at lville; before i know it we'll all be out of here.

i did some writing last night.
i'm not sure where it came from; it must have some kind of
emotional source, i suppose.
well, here goes:
EPISODE ONE
"my anger is endearing, isn't it?" she asked as she stepped
away from the mirror.
he was silent; the question was not meant to be answered.
she continued about the room and every time he caught her
eye, he saw past the anger she was trying to harvest into
the memory of her passion.
her anger used to make her militant and productive, putting
herself on the line for something she believed in. these
days it just festered. she kept a vial of it by her always
and released it upon anyone who attempted to penetrate her
caring or trust.
he turned to inspect her cold reflection in the mirror; she
saw him out of the corner of her eye but pretended
otherwise. "Light me a smoke," she beckoned him without a
glance, and he obediently produced a lighter and a pack of
slims. she knew it had been months since he had quit, yet
watching puffs of circle his head greatly amused her.
he retreated to the door as the cigarette dangled from her lips like
a teardrop about to make a plunge from the jawbone. she inhaled stale-
smelling fog and his hand rested lightly on the handle.
why didn't he just walk?
he watched her quietly, knowing that even though her back
was turned, she was listening anxiously for the sound of
the door.
every cloudy breath she released intruiged him. he wanted
to hold her trembling fingers in his own, burning cigarette
and all. inch by inch, the stability of the tobacco was
replaced with the crumbling ash and by the time she ground
the stub into the heart-shaped tray, he had moved away from
the door onto the sofa beside her....
TO BE CONTINUED