Hello, I am writing a diary entry to avoid e-mailing Brian and asking him where he is, because that would be stupid and highly useless. The Manchurian Candidate was better than I remembered. Ian came home with one of his friends from high school, saw me rooting through the fridge in my pyjamas and mentioned that I was home from work early. I wasn't home early, the store closes at seven on Sundays, but I felt kind of oddly embarassed. And then I realized that he probably didn't want me around while his friend was there, and then I was even more embarassed but then I had some cake and milk and felt better all around.Nobody thinks that my involvement with Brian the Internet Boy is a good idea anymore. It makes it difficult to rationalize, but then I remember that hardly anyone I talk to these days even knew me back when Brian and I were talking all the time and things were actually good. It's hard for me to understand the collective opinion against it because I remember all the nice stuff, and how we have funny things in common and the same sense of humor and how he's so smart and a nice guy in general and really liked me and made me feel nice.
For example! It was the second half of my freshman year in college and I was having a really rough time of it because I didn't know anybody and I was living alone and I was being lazy and I stopped going to class. One day, I bought a bunch of junk food, put on my sweatpants and in typical drama queen fashion announced that I was through with being a productive member of society. Workaholic grad-school student Brian was concerned. He decided that since he couldn't be there in person, he would offer me a trade: If I put down the can of Cheez Whiz and went to all of my classes for one week, he would send me a present. This sounded like a good deal to me. I threw the Cheez Whiz can into the dorm donation box - it was stolen a day later - and went to all of my terrible boring General Education classes. Even the lectures. A week later, I found in my normally-empty mailbox a beautiful, weighty art book.
And now here I am on the Dean's List, feeling like I owe that spark of motivation to him. Still, I'm a cynic and a pessimist and I'm just sort of waiting for things to go sour for good.
I don't like not knowing big things about myself and my life, and this is a big thing. I forsee myself spending quite a bit more time and maybe a chunk of money on this. But I'm not complaining because I like the idea of the adventure. I consider myself a tough girl and I like testing that. I am sort of talking out of my ass at this point.
As tough as I am, I know I'm scared of the dark. This house is too quiet and dark, and I've already been up to double check that the door is bolted shut. It is a comfort to be able to chalk up mysterious noises to apartment neighbors.
