eidolon

[Tuesday, October 31, 2006]

I heart Halloween.

I wore pointed ears to class today. People didn't notice for a little while because my hair was down and the tips stuck up through the hair. It didn't matter, because I had to take them off halfway through the day. I think I'm allergic to them. My nose started getting congested and when I took them off, I had a rash on my ears. Either I'm allergic to the prosthetic ears or to the glue I used to stick them on. How disappointing. Now I have glue residue on my ears and I can't seem to get it off in the shower.

Posted by ink | 11:33 AM

[Saturday, October 28, 2006]

Microbiology.

Tad Hamilton and I have continued dating. After an unsuccessful attempt to break up with him directly prior to my exam last week, we've been spending a little less time together, which gives me a bit of room to breathe. After all, it's hard to ask someone to please care about me less. I appreciate the enthusiasm, though I think things could develop a bit more naturally if I didn't know all his cards all the time. Girls complain that boys never call, and I have the opposite problem. I also feel like a horrid amoral slut, since he likes to wait until things turn serious before sleeping together, and I'm the sort who likes to take a test drive before I commit to anything. This puts pressure on that already pseudo-awkward first-time-together. Not only will we be seeing each other naked, but I'll also have to go into it knowing that this means "commitment" in his eyes. Is this how boys feel? I'm almost hoping this "commitment moment" happens a little later rather than sooner as I'm not sure I can handle that type of pressure. Who knows, maybe I won't make the cut and I'll never get to that point. I've been single for so long that I'm not sure I can really commit to anything quite yet. What's wrong with just fun dating and seeing where it goes naturally?

Being in the microbiology block hasn't helped things. He's terribly attached to his cat and dog, both of which are horribly cute and have horribly cute names. I'm also horribly allergic to one, if not both of them. I wanted to nickname the dog Pasteurella (after a type of bacteria found in dogs' mouths that can give you skin infections) and the cat Toxoplasma (after the disease that pregnant women can get from kitty litter). He wasn't amused. I'll have to make do with calling them their new names inside my head. People get really protective of their pets. I'm a little surprised he's put up with me for this long. I wonder how much longer I'll last before he gets fed up.

Posted by ink | 10:25 AM

[Thursday, October 12, 2006]

So, are you dating anyone?

I'm not sure. I could be dating him, but are we really "dating"? He made me dinner last night, but granted there was a bowl of cat food on the table along with the steak, shrimp, and beans. He also said "I like you", but then tacked on, "...despite the fact that you're a med student."

We met when he knocked on my door last Monday because he'd locked himself out. I was wearing toe socks when I answered. And not matching toe-socks either. I'd received them in the mail from Kenmore as a birthday present and was trying one on each foot to admire them. Kenmore, being Kenmore, decided that toesocks are really not properly toesocks unless they have crazy designs on them. So, he chose a pair of purple hairy ones that make me look like snuffleluffagus, a pair of rainbow harlequin ones, and a pink and grey striped pair (the only semi-normal set).

This-guy-I'm-not-sure-I'm-dating is a fourth year at my school and is chock full of advice, as well as phone calls to hang out. The initial concerns I had at the fact that he owned "How to Win a Date with Tad Hamilton" on DVD along with Bridget Jones were allayed at last night's dinner, when I discovered that he also liked comic books and video games and all those other types of guys-y things as well. Having a boy like me always puts me into all sorts of consternation and confusion. How could this be? Boys never like me. This must be a joke. Funny how the thoughts you have when you're 16 still recur when you're 26. It's like a bad habit that you just can't break.

I left dinner feeling a little more reassured and a little incredulous. Tad Hamilton let me out the door, without trying to get into my pants. He made me dinner, I was in his apartment, and yet when I left, there was no attempt to give me a hug and feel me up in the process, or any casual requests to "have a drink up in my room." Do such boys exist? Apparently they do. And they sleep on the other side of the wall. Literally. I realized his bedroom adjoins mine when I used the bathroom upstairs. So I guess my only task now is to 1) figure out if I actually like the guy and 2) try really hard to be normal and not a freak. That's hard sometimes.

He made me lunch today. Apparently, he really likes cooking. I've started to feel guilty about it. Two meals, and all I've done is give him a hard time about his DVD collection. I half-offered to make him dinner in return, but really - anything I know how to make is pretty pathetic in comparison to the offerings he's made so far. He did tell me that he's a romantic guy, which I suppose was adequate warning. I didn't know what to say in response to that. So I said, "Romance makes me feel awkward." Maybe that explains the bowl of cat food on the table at dinner.

Posted by ink | 8:03 PM

[Monday, October 02, 2006]

Turning 20-something.

I couldn't sleep last night. I made the fatal mistake of drinking iced tea with my dinner and the caffeine kept me tossing and turning all night. It was either that or the allergies I get whenever I come back to my parents' house. I was insomniating, congested, and exhausted. Thus I was when I crossed that invisible border between 25 and 26 and entered yet another year of living. If you want to get technical, I wasn't born till 10:02 PM on October 2nd, so I'm really just enjoying the last few hours of 25.

I'm going shopping with mom and mom's credit card today instead of going back to Philadelphia to clean my badly neglected room. I worked so hard to get out of suburbia and to shed all trappings of it, and yet it feels ironically sweet to be back. Just imagine, the stores are all within easy walking distance, and I don't have to weather the elements! Only slightly crazed soccer moms intent on getting the last pair of Converse All Star sneakers so their daughters can be uber cool. Did anyone notice that the 80's are coming back? Leggings have been spotted on the streets. Thumbs down on the leggings, and a cautious thumbs up to Converse sneakers. I'm slightly disgruntled because now it means that my own Converse-like sneakers that I've had for years are no longer a statement towards being a rebel without a cause. I knew they were officially "trendy" when they appeared on the models in the J. Crew catalog on my parents' kitchen table.

I'm not doing much today besides hitting the shopping with mom. Quite honestly, I'm not super excited about turning 26, so I'd rather treat it like it's any other day, and pretend it never happened. But it's hard to be gloomy when flats are back in. There's now a selection of comfortable shoes that won't make me look like grandma! Flats still make my feet look extraordinarily large, but that's probably because my feet actually are extraordinarily large. Nothing can be done about that, so I may as well decorate them in pretty sparkly shoes that I can walk for hours in. Hurrah for flats!

Birthdays used to be a relievingly anonymous event, where just the few people who cared about you the most would remember, and you could spend the rest of the day just like everyone else. But now, thanks to stalkers like Friendster and Facebook who send out email reminders, I'll have to face a million people in class tomorrow with birthday wishes and the ominous innocuous question, "So how old are you now?" Considering that I'm in a class with a lot of recent graduates, there will be the inevitable "No way. You're 26? You graduated in 2001? I graduated from high school in 2001!" Asshole. Then there'll be the classmates who are older and won't say anything, but just cluck and shake their head at me because they're all in serious relationships and on their way. And I obviously am still idling in neutral. It's not my fault I haven't found anyone to rev my engine, okay? Vroom vroom anybody? Anyone?

But I was never a fan of ducking the age question and answering with the ever cheesy "Oh, I'm 20-something", or "30-something", or "40-something". I mean - really, so it sucks to be a year older and have things begin to sag and droop, but there's no reason to be embarassed about it or hide it. It happens to the best of us. And it'll happen also to all those obnoxious little young 'uns. And then I will cackle, cackle with glee!

Posted by ink | 12:05 PM