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rinuefor.mi.ca'tion, n. a sensation of the body resembling that made by the creeping of ants on the skin.
The past two days have been surreal to say the least. Time is not working properly. I show up to classes which don't seem to exist; I finish half-hour commutes in 20 minutes of heavy traffic and no speeding. Every clock I look at is wrong. Someone e-mailed to ask if tomorrow was the 20th. I called my guitar teacher this morning to make sure I still had class; when I arrived I just tuned my guitar the whole lesson while he talked on the phone.
Him: Sorry about that. Legal stuff.
Me: It's cool.
Him: You have an amazing touch, have I told you that?
Me: Probably.
Him: No, I mean, it's hard for me to correct you sometimes because whatever you play sounds beautiful, even if it's dischordant.
Me: So should I not come anymore?
Him: No; just keep doing whatever you're doing.
Me: Not practicing?
Him: Do you mind if I talk to you about this legal stuff and see if you can make sense out of it?
Me: Whatever.
People I've never seen come up to me on campus and say "You seem to have a grip on all this. Can I call you some time for tutoring?" What class? "Does it matter?" No, not really. The people who don't talk stare. Just stare and stare and stare and stare, like they're waiting for me to do something important.
E-mails are flooding my inbox from Dale, a 50-something unemployed software engineer with a 14-year-old daughter and no tact who doesn't understand why I'm not madly in love with him after getting sushi one time.
Him: But we have so much in common!
Me: We both went to high school. Whilst there, we both took Physics. That does not constitute "so much in common".
Him: Say what you will, but we had a great time!
Me: You had a great time, because I am a pleasant companion.
He keeps trying to prove to me that we're Meant To Be by sending long letters in French, bemoaning the nature of infatuation and critiquing my lohan form (that last part I do actually find helpful, which is the only reason I haven't just blocked his address).
Meanwhile, I've looked down twice to find spiders crawling on my arms. Since I constantly feel as though there are spiders crawling on my arms, this makes me jumpy and reactionary. Hallucinations are all very well so long as you know they're not real; when they sometimes are, things get complicated.
Even Delta Airlines are messing with my head.
Oh! Oh! And the best part, which I forgot, is that I got the same e-mail today that I did yesterday, and when I opened all the news websites, they were from two days ago. Even my friends page on livejournal.
I think I need to leave town this weekend.
The past two days have been surreal to say the least. Time is not working properly. I show up to classes which don't seem to exist; I finish half-hour commutes in 20 minutes of heavy traffic and no speeding. Every clock I look at is wrong. Someone e-mailed to ask if tomorrow was the 20th. I called my guitar teacher this morning to make sure I still had class; when I arrived I just tuned my guitar the whole lesson while he talked on the phone.
Him: Sorry about that. Legal stuff.
Me: It's cool.
Him: You have an amazing touch, have I told you that?
Me: Probably.
Him: No, I mean, it's hard for me to correct you sometimes because whatever you play sounds beautiful, even if it's dischordant.
Me: So should I not come anymore?
Him: No; just keep doing whatever you're doing.
Me: Not practicing?
Him: Do you mind if I talk to you about this legal stuff and see if you can make sense out of it?
Me: Whatever.
People I've never seen come up to me on campus and say "You seem to have a grip on all this. Can I call you some time for tutoring?" What class? "Does it matter?" No, not really. The people who don't talk stare. Just stare and stare and stare and stare, like they're waiting for me to do something important.
E-mails are flooding my inbox from Dale, a 50-something unemployed software engineer with a 14-year-old daughter and no tact who doesn't understand why I'm not madly in love with him after getting sushi one time.
Him: But we have so much in common!
Me: We both went to high school. Whilst there, we both took Physics. That does not constitute "so much in common".
Him: Say what you will, but we had a great time!
Me: You had a great time, because I am a pleasant companion.
He keeps trying to prove to me that we're Meant To Be by sending long letters in French, bemoaning the nature of infatuation and critiquing my lohan form (that last part I do actually find helpful, which is the only reason I haven't just blocked his address).
Meanwhile, I've looked down twice to find spiders crawling on my arms. Since I constantly feel as though there are spiders crawling on my arms, this makes me jumpy and reactionary. Hallucinations are all very well so long as you know they're not real; when they sometimes are, things get complicated.
Even Delta Airlines are messing with my head.
Oh! Oh! And the best part, which I forgot, is that I got the same e-mail today that I did yesterday, and when I opened all the news websites, they were from two days ago. Even my friends page on livejournal.
I think I need to leave town this weekend.
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(no subject)
Date: 2002-02-21 12:28 pm (UTC)I have no idea why I'm telling you this, only that your post made me think and I hate having to justify shit.
Btw, I in no way mean to imply that all Chinese people look hungover or whatever. I think it was bad lighting and a bad sweater. And now I'm just digging myself in deeper. But my new years resolution is to stop apologising. Sorry.
(no subject)
Date: 2002-02-21 01:37 pm (UTC)-Romie