July 24, 1999.

On the way to first period yesterday, I absent-mindedly sang:

"I would go out tonight, but I haven't got a stitch to wear."

One of my fellow counselors smiled and said, "is that true?" I was mildly shocked to discover that it was. But I did have the Bag, and that's enough.

Unfortunately, the Zen-like powers of the Bag weren't enough to defeat some negative synchronicities (Dr. J the meditation teacher says that coincidences are "a million angels pulling strings," but Dr. J is, as we've determined, a flake). To whit: A bunch of us had made plans to meet in the city yesterday night. The Boy thought that Q or Pixie would let me into the Nook, and they thought the opposite. So there were a bunch of considerate and helpful notes inside the apartment that I couldn't get into for 3 hours.

That sounds awfully bitter, doesn't it? For awhile I felt so abandoned that all my compensatory logic was swamped with hurt. I took centering breaths and managed not to say a lot of stupid hurtful things to Q & PS, things that I knew I didn't mean. But even though I didn't explode or cry (much) in public, by the time I was let into the apartment I just wanted to sulk for a good 12 hours (preferably while getting some much-needed sleep). Fortunately I couldn't find Dirk to tell him to stay home, and I was "forced" to go to Tequila Bookworm and be social.

It was definitely the best decision I made all night. The people at Tequila are always super friendly to me, despite the fact that I'm an extremely irregular customer. Their sympathy helped me get over a lot of the self-pity I'd been lugging around in the Bag. And then Stacy & Dirk showed up. Some women swear by hot baths at the end of a long week; I'd rather be all sweaty & tired from modified goth dancing (all things are modified by the Bag - especially dancing in a dark pit of darkness).

I also got to talk to Josh a bit, which is always an illuminating experience. Josh works door at the Garden, and every time we talk, I always discover new depths. Once you're off campus, it's more difficult to find someone who understands the trials and luxuries of the academic life...but we once spent an hour talking about Arts degrees. I walked into the Garden feeling like a stranger in a strange land - I mean, how many goths work with kids? And of course, Josh used to be a counselor at a special needs camp. We talked about Allergia a bit, and the strategies for dealing with little sociopaths. He was impressed that we were allowed to touch the kids at all. I don't know how I'd be able to deal with any kind of child - let alone a special needs child - if I wasn't allowed to get their attention through touch.

That was the main plot of the evening. An interesting side effect from wandering around the city with no fixed address was that I eventually gravitated to the Grad Pad (i.e. the basement hangout of my old res). And there was a bunch of friends from 3rd year, including Aegis, Cranly, and Comrade Jen. Cranly and I had the best conversation we've had since the "unpleasantness" of the fall - something I don't think either of us ever understood. It felt so fucking good to be there and to be laughing at the inevitable Grad Pad foolishness. Case in point: we convinced Cranly to put a t-shirt over his puffy vest, with the end effect being something that looked eerily like a fat suit. We laughed till we cried.

After Cranly's departure, Aegis stretched himself out on the folding deck chair & asked for the serious side of things. Sometimes he's really good at pulling revelations from me, and this was one of those times. I told him how conflicted I was about returning to camp next year: on one hand I count off the days & long for selfish days of solitary slack, but on the other hand there are benefits to this job that are wholly unique. My bosses actually care about my psychological state and what I feel about what I'm doing as a way to help me do my job better. I've never been told to suck it up for the duration of the job. I'm treated like an equal.

On a wholly different plane, my ability to relate to other people (especially kids) has taken huge jumps. I've discovered, much to my surprise, that my affection for children is almost wholly confined to the abstract, or when concrete, entirely confined to young children with no distinct personalities of their own. This is partly why the first session was so hard: I lived in a little fortress of solitude, sending out incomprehensible messages of friendship. I still have moments of rupture (when I suddenly discover that I'm merely making noises at someone instead of talking to them), but they're getting fewer. Another session would help inordinately.

But these kinds of revelations don't exactly feel like bliss...they speak of painful adjustment and the need for continual hard work, and I'm a slack-ass. Aegis reminded me that no job was without stress, and that I should always explore the gray areas in life when the chance was offered. I'm not sure how I feel about the advice, which is pretty wonderful. I mean, how often do you get advice that isn't sugary platitudes or nastiness disguised as wisdom? Bloody rare, that.

Spent some time wandering around Queen Street today, before and after getting my hair cut way too short (after camp, I think I'm gonna dye it pink). A busker proposed to me, which is something that doesn't happen everyday. I had to break his heart. Hmm. Had to. Interesting phrase...I wonder if the real Belle Dames Sans Merci thought of it in those terms.

And then I got home to a wonderful package from Javina, which was a bit of a shock. Not because the package was wonderful: she's got an amazing hand with surprise packages, like a favourite aunt in a far off place. But because she seems so depressed lately. There's been an especially bitchy visitor to her message board lately, the kind of person who wants to obliterate everything she touches and manages to piss everybody off instead. I've been lucky to avoid such parasites.