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august 6, 2000. Today I went through all of my university papers. Lately, I've found that moving is like dying, without the fun of skipping out on the administrative work. With that in mind, I got rid of quite a few scraps of overheated drivel written during my period of insanity. I really don't want my descendents coming across them without context: i.e. this is not what I consider good, let alone a representative sample of my "ouevre." That feels like an awfully pretentious word to describe my literary output, considering that this here diary is my biggest achievement. Over 3 years old & cluttering up Geocities addresses across the spectrum! Cool.
Anyhoo, in the course of my sorting, I came across a bunch of notes, cards & missives from people who no longer care to speak to me. Most of these were tossed, but I couldn't help lingering over two letters. The first was a scrap of doggerel written by Alexi in the form of a love song. Something like, "I will be your calamine lotion when your back breaks out / I will be your aspirin when you've been stung by 1000 bees / I will be your Diet Coke when you long for one calorie / I will be your substitute for a guy who looks like me."
Cute, huh? What struck me is the similarity between the way Alexi treated me then & the way that the Boy treats me now. Goofy songs of tender treatment, lots of in-jokes, lots of understanding. It was a bit of a shock, because I've gotten used to thinking of Alexi as that guy who disrupts everything, who says the word that turns the situation to shit. When I remember the way things were, I'm both grateful that I've found a similar place with the Boy and troubled that I hurt Alexi so badly in getting here. I thought that guilt was over. I should've known better.
The second letter was originally taped to my door on the morning of 3rd year Fireball. It's a little progress report from Ophelia, full of endearments and reassuring me that I looked gorgeous for the big day. Once again, I had forgotten how much we shared. That does make me sad, now that it's irrevocably over between us. It's hard to give up on such past tenderness. But it is gone beyond redemption. So be it.
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What a crappy holiday weekend. Rattlesnake cramps, delicate digestive system, too many boring things that had to be done and a complete lack of fun dancing and/or drinking. At least the Boy had a good time for his stag on Saturday. Despite a somewhat small guest list (later referred to as the Magnificent Seven), they managed to fit gaming, a nudie bar and heroic amounts of drinking into the night. They washed up on the shores of the Science Centre this afternoon, in search of an Imax movie about hammerhead sharks. What can I say, geek stags are like a foreign country: they do things differently there.
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