phoenix {rising}
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Error #404 (File Not Found) or: The Dubious Peril of the Online Social Life
<<2003-01-21 - 1:47 p.m.>>

There is no TF. TF is one big Error #404 (File Not Found). This makes me nervous. I've really come to invest more than I ever thought I would in this particular community. I've been there for four and a half months now, and that's pretty long-term. It had better come back, that's all. I'm sure other members are at some other, necessarily inferior board, sharing their nervousness, but I don't know where that board is, and so I have my nervousness alone, in a cluttered room with the grey, grey sky seeping in the window.

This is not a crippling nervousness. Try and cripple me. Just try. I dare you.

I am in a good mood because I checked in on Kara's online diary (you know, the one I'm not supposed to know about) and found her saying that if anything were to go wrong with our Paideia class, "Mollie will find a way to make it all better."

And I would, too.

But see how Kara thinks I am a capable human being? See how my own reaction reveals that I, too, think I am a capable human being? See how this is always a surprise when I get back to school?

The Paideia "Buffy" class went pretty well, actually. Wonderfully, it turned out to be at 8 PM, and thus everything was quite alright. Kara and I spent hours on it yesterday (interspersed with frequent breaks: playing Swedish card game, talking about our vacations, playing with Freud action figures, discussing other Paideia classes that we're interested in attending, watching snippets of tomorrow's "Buffy" as they downloaded...) and put it together and five people came, which was not ideal, but was fine. Kara and I said interesting things. Megan suggested an interesting idea.

Megan has been warming the cockles of my heart. She emailed me; I suggested dinner, she said she was going downtown but then she changed her mind, by which time I'd already opted to order pizza with Miriam and Kara and Kara's visiting friend Rachel. So I suggested she meet me back at their room, and I got there before she did, and when she knocked, I flung open the door and shrieked "Megan!" and she shrieked "Mollie!" and I gave her a big hug. The hug was nice because I hugged neither Kara nor Miriam upon seeing them again, because they are just not particularly casual-hug-friendly people. But Megan is. And so am I. And that's nice.

Megan and I really have an awful lot in common. City girls, histories of self-destructive behavior, now enjoying new feelings of maturity and capability. I remember the other night, after Winter Formal and its vague unpleasantry, how I just wanted to run to Megan and plaintively ask her, "Megan, how do you do it? How do you feel so comfortable with yourself and your sexuality? And please, can you teach me?"

Ha! says the universe. Now Megan will call you and ask you to go to a Paideia class about picking up men with her. Ha!

So off I go.

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