I am really not a morning person.
So, last night was a disaster. I got off work at 4pm to get a filling re-done, which was fine, and then tried to find my to the Van Ness AMC. I ended up walking about twenty blocks because I got off the bus route, which was fine save for four giant blisters now sitting pretty on my pinky toes. I finally get there, get my ticket for Spiderman, and realize I have two and a half hours to kill. I wander to Starbucks, I wander through Circuit City, I get harassed by a bum, I smoke several cigarettes, I go into the movie complex with an hour to kill.
I call my dad. I call my mom. I call my brother. I text friends. No one is home. No one responds.
I call Adam and tell him to meet me here. He says he might but probably won't. He doesn't.
I think it's important to recognize that I have a crippling shyness that has haunted me since birth. I don't like to be in public places and I hate to be in public places by myself. I feel awkward, I get panicky, I have to reteach myself to breathe, I have to force myself to feel insignificant, that no one really cares that I'm anywhere. I think I'm a narcissist in that I feel like everyone who's around me is looking and thinking at me, but they're wondering why that girl is wearing those stupid pants and what kind of loser goes to see Spiderman by herself.
I sit in the hall reading a book. I sit in the bathroom reading a book. I try to go into the theater and am told I have to wait till they're done cleaning. I sit in the hall. I go up and down the escalators. I contemplate going home and crawling into bed and crying but force myself to stay. I go into the theater. I have 45 minutes left.
I read. I glare at people who try to sit near me.
The movie starts. I wish I had some popcorn, but the entire left side of my face is numb so I can't chew. A family of three sits a few seats down from me. They start to talk in Chinese -- Asian languages are not the prettiest sounding things in the world, but they're downright heinous when you're SHOUTING TO YOUR SON WHO IS SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO YOU WHILE YOU'RE IN A MOVIE THEATER AND A MOVIE IS PLAYING.
Joanna, who is Chinese, once told me that she didn't like hispanic people because they would come into the Gap, where she once worked, and mess everything up. I hope she takes offense when I say that I don't like Asian people because they talk during movies. After all, I'm sure all Asian people can't keep their mouth shut for two fucking hours. Such are the seeds of prejudice.
I also don't like Asian people because they, apparently, cannot eat popcorn without making sucking noises. Chewing, I can handle. Slurping, whatever. But sucking on your popcorn? Audibly? Fuck you, buddy. Clearly, you are out to make this traumatizing experience downright nightmarish.
In any event, the movie was awesome and I cried no less than four times. Then I went home, scrubbed the bathtub, watched Sex and the City, decided that Aaron was right when he said that I would take back what I said about him moving out while he was gone camping these few days (though I took it back within ten minutes of declaring it), turned the lights down but not off, and cried myself to sleep.
When I woke up this morning, I cried again when I couldn't roll over and cuddle with Aaron. I used to wonder why people only had single beds, and now I know: anything bigger is just too lonely.
one year ago today: nothin.
two years ago today: nothin.
three years ago today: nothin.