Too Much To Say Now
<<2003-04-10 - 5:27 p.m.>>

Well, I'm working. Inching toward the eighth page of the eight-to-ten-page Gender & History paper. It will be done tonight. I say this with actual assurance, not panic.

Jackie was way too nice when we talked after class today, telling me that she thinks part of the Reed education is sort of a trial by fire, that you learn to balance things, that you have to stop beating yourself up and investigate, that it's okay, that she'll still read the paper. I don't even think she's planning on penalizing the grade. Eddie echoes her sentiments. It's ridiculous. If either of them were Ms. D'Amico, I'd've had a guaranteed failing grade on these papers for weeks now—well, maybe not the Hum paper just yet. But almost.

Yesterday, I was walking out of conference with Eddie and we were talking about spring in Portland and how the cherry blossoms are just like the ones in Central Park, and he was still talking to me as he turned down the path toward his office and he tripped over this girl who was sprawled across the pathway. His long limbs everywhere. He started apologizing profusely and Miriam and I giggled.

Today I picked up a voicemail message from John, and my stomach tightened as soon as I heard his voice.

He's talking to Chloë now, or she's talking to him, or something, and apparently he's telling her that they should go out again because she represents failure to him and he wants to fix it, which is psychotic.

And there was that thing with me yelling at Kara and Miriam and bursting into tears and crying for awhile. And I think Rowen's avoiding me (whatever).

And we're taking the house, and I am having delicious house-fantasies.

And Miriam's not coming back next year.

And Fury and I are all of a sudden really close.

And I love Claire to bits and am a wee bit concerned about her. All this talk of hipbones.

And you see? Too much to talk about.

Elaboration will ensue.

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