Replay

I'm a cracking vase with arms that try to push pieces back together, but its form is so warped that another falls out from behind. Clattering, the sound of porcelain snapping against itself.

What a fat lie she was, she is. And ugly truth, touching herself to the beat of my ignorance. Did she feel filled by her fingers? Fingers blurring away, melting against sugar skin. Was I so terrible? Those are the words she tossed from her mouth, and once in awhile I believe them even when I know they're wrong. Then the questions come.

How? How could she? When she made the first move, hand traveling in the air reaching for sex, did she feel stronger? How was that kiss, how did the liquor breath between them taste, and how easily did her fingers slide between her thighs? Where was her heart when I called from the airport, when I landed and she blew through the snow in her car, when I lay naked in her tired arms? I know I need to stop pressing replay, but I am weak sometimes. Neiloo isn't my past, but with even two weeks apart comes a sinking fear. What if this is my worth? What if the most Brittany loved me was the most I can hope for? I know that's not true also.

Why do I lie to myself?

Throbbing Halves

I am two people, probably more but there are only two relevant ones today. Tomorrow will probably be different and what defines me will change, but this is now's reality manifest in a collection of letters.

I am the past. I feel the weight of Brittany on my shoulders, her reaching to lean on me when my mind is crying out to leave her in the shadows. My heart is vacant and empty when she sings to it, but to also push the closest friend I've had in years seems wrong. I struggle on a tightrope, fumbling with a balance between kindness and firmness. Somewhere inside myself I cry at three a.m., memories flooding my stomach of unspeakable rejection. Silence grows on my face as the world twists within.

I am the present. I feel the weight of Neiloo as she lays naked against my chest at four a.m. She touches the exposed and sees my eyes. I pull and she does too; I kill the butterflies and she does too; I tell her not to and she challenges me too. Tipping in the night we define time by our body's skin. I am swallowed in her hands and lips, eyes catching on her hips. Desire is past fingers running together. I ache for more but the words to ask are captive.

I am two people. I am push and I am pull, past and present shoved against one another. I will ebb and flow, dynamic contentment.

One of Those Crushes

I have one. You know, one of those crushes.

It's the kind where you don't really know the person all too much, so you project everything that you could ever possibly want on them. It's someone who you found initial attraction for, and there was a moment when they sparked your curiosity. So your mind fills in the blanks as it naturally does, but it's to your disadvantage. There could not possibly be anyone better on the planet than the person you've unconsciously constructed. Once in awhile it makes me feel dubious about my relationship, as if there is a completely new world that I've been missing out on.

I won't say her name, but she was presented to me in one context: superiority. That already puts me in a place where I look up to her. (I know that's vague, but I don't want to give too much away in case it bites me in the ass.) Then I find out she's here on a basketball scholarship. She has contributed more than me to my family financially and has a passion or strength besides academics. Lastly, she makes really insightful comments with perspectives I have not examined, broadening my horizons. I can really respect someone in all these regards. I already found her attractive, being taller than me with feminine features and a masculine edge, so adding these ambitions and control imbalances certainly enhanced my taking to her.

Since then, I've had numerous infatuated fantasies. None of them ever involve sex though. The most I have ever taken it is groping, but mostly just kissing as far as sexual contact. Really, the vast majority of them are about tilting the power between us in my favor. For instance, there are scenarios where she likes me instead and is jealous of my girlfriend and I. Some are about her discovering something that I do well and enjoy. Of course, in the fantasy I'm much better at it than real life, professional level and all that. Martial arts, dancing, singing. That's embarrassing. I think the last, most prominent one is where we are playing one-on-one at two or three in the morning, the moon illuminating the basketball court. She sweeps me, but we're both sweating. She wants me and I want her but I can't show her because I'm afraid of being venerable. I turn away from her because I'm not ready, but she turns me around at the hip and pushes me against the hoop's pole. She's always wearing a basketball uniform, and it feels like air and silk against my hands. And that's always where it stops. I think the reason it stops there is because it's not about real emotions or sexual desire. It's about power, about being perceived as an object of lust. I also think it's because I don't get intense sexual attention when Brittany isn't here, so my mind thrusts these intimate thoughts onto the one person that has caught my eye. At first I was afraid of these thoughts, but not anymore. This rationale allows me to accept them.

And I know. I should be following up on the last blog post because it's so strangely juxtaposed against this one. And I left many questions unanswered that I have at least some reasonings for now. I have to get up at a somewhat decent hour, so I'm going to throw in the towel until tomorrow. Or the next day. Whenever my life permits me to write, or perhaps when I find it of enough value to continue, I shall.

Nightnight

-Alena

Ranting as Usual

Today, oh today. Ugh times three.

I got up at about eleven today and watch The Biggest Loser for way too long. I got hungry after a couple hours though and headed straight for the dining hall. I ate a burrito with these two girls who I think could be lesbians. At least one of them for sure because no one talks about The L Word so graphically unless they want to munch vagina. It actually ended nicely, and I went to the study room. I was actually quite impressive (maybe only to myself) cause I got a great amout of music and film homework done. Anywho, I did a little socializing after with Iggy and his gang.

I honestly think Iggy doesn't really like me all too much. I'm probably a bit too much for him to handle, which is understandable considering how soft spoken he is. I like him and would like to hang out with him, but since I'm usually the initiator I think I'll step off for awhile. Upon coming to this decision, I got Cat's number so I could contact her directly since she and Robert were the main reason I even hung out with Iggy that much. I then hiked (twenty steps) back to the study room.

Now, you may be asking yourself why I couldn't do my homework in the comfort of my dorm that my parents pay about $10,000 a year for. You see, I have two roommates, Sydney and Melissa. For the duration of last quarter, Sydney and I were close-ish. At the least I liked kicking it with her. Melissa not really ever. I just can't get into fake people who have to turn up the volume to 11 to declare their presence to everyone within earshot. She doesn't do her homework but can complain about the rigor of her classes to no end. Too much acid and weed is what I have deduced is the issue. I'm sure we all know the type. When Melissa got a night to herself in our dorm room at the beginning of the quarter, she realized she could smoke in our room without getting caught by blowing it out the window. Now her and Sydney have made it a regular habit. I'm all for it once in awhile, but there is a certain respect for communal space that one should innately adhere to. Perhaps I'm irrational. But, for the last four or five days I have walked into a weed cloud at least twice a day cause it still sticks and reeks. To return to the question at hand, I don't want to have to inhabit the stench. I think that makes sense. So, I have decided to spend more time out of the room because I'm out voted in this trio situation. Besides, they seem to think I'm out having a good time when I'm actually trying to avoid their habits and get work done. I sense a tinge of jealousy surrounding me having things to do all day, so I'm definitely sticking with it.

Anyways, that's not really the half of it. I'll get to that later.

Jesse, my CA, had a scary movie night tonight. We watched Paranormal Activity and ate tons of junk food. It was great except that it was in the B6 lounge and I kept going back to that night. All I could think about was shame. That's probably why I stuffed my face so thoroughly. I did enjoy the company though.

As I was walking down my hall, I talked to a guy I met last quarter named Dylan cause his door was open. I ended up talking with his other two roommates too, Steven and Tony (whom I had Core 80B with last quarter). It's strange. I truly enjoyed my conversation with them, as casual as it was. It came so naturally and flowed with ease, something that I don't experience a whole lot of. I think I might try and get closer to Dylan, though this might conflict with Sydney's interest in him. Honestly, I couldn't care less because she is more of a distance admirer, and I'm looking for only friendship. I'll just try not to share my rapidly lowering opinion of her with him. Try. Haha no really, I'm going to hold back.

Later, Robert, Cat and I walked to the College Nine/Ten Dining Hall only to find it closed. It was a nice walk though. We got back to Cat's and they WANT to work on putting out a trilogy of webisodes! The concept is about a girl who is sexually abused and finds relief in killing rapists. I won't say all that much about it here, but I'm definitely excited about it cause we have a follow up meeting tomorrow for dinner. I think they might be really accepting me into their friendship, like a trio. Cat is interested in theater and Robert is changing his major to theater, and I know that's different from movie acting but I can't help but get excited about this. I'm trying not to get my hopes up. Maybe. I might start the screenplay tonight, but I had to get all this out.

So I finally get back to my room and it's about 12:30-1:00. As I walk into the ever-present cloud, I realize there are six to eight guys in there, two of which are sitting on my bed. My bed is NOT communal space at all, and I have no fucking idea why they would think they can invite their friends over and let them sit on my bed. If they have friends over, they can sit on their beds. No sense of boundary. I want to approach them about it, but it's clear I need to calm down so I can be taken seriously. At this point, I only want to coexist with them. That was the breaking point, the line they should not have crossed. Now my comforter smells like cigarettes. Cool. So I sat in the room as awkwardly as I could so that they would leave. I can't stand a lack of respect for communal space, let alone my space.

Okay, I think I'm done with the ranting. I really do want to get the screenplay at least started with a scene or two. The Biggest Loser also calls.

-Alena