Hooplah.Org A Story of Graceful Stumbles

Tick Tock

I feel uneasy for some reason. Like something is sitting ajar in my world and throwing me off balance. Like something catastrophic happened and I forgot the event but remembered the effect it had on me. I know it has nothing to do with Matt, nor anything to do with him being here in less than 24 hours. I know it has nothing to do with me getting freaked out over the possibility of something bad happening with Matt's flight (though I always get that feeling everytime a plane becomes involved in my life, that form of paranoia doesn't feel quite like this... that feeling will probably hit me sometime tomorrow, before I head out to DC to pick him up). It's like something that has already happened, and it's as though I have not dealt with it properly. Unfinished business would be the best term to describe it.

There are things like how I took a class survey yesterday and accidently selected "strongly disagree" instead of "strongly agree" for the nice professor I have. All semester long he has been doing live class sessions, and sending biweekly e-mails saying how great everyone is doing and always offering suggestions and help for those who are taking their first online classes this semester (like myself). I sent an e-mail to apologize to him, explaining what happened, but as of yet he hasn't responded to me. I felt awful that I was so careless to do that. I only noticed I had done it since I was planning on being far more critical for my programming design professor and for some reason the options at the top of my page caught my attention moreso than they had the first time.

There's also the fact that whenever I clean (which I have done alot of the past 3 days, moreso than what would be required really, but it needed to be done) my mind tends to drift into deep thought. It's been a while since I've dwelled on my past... and the past 3 days, that's what I've primarily been lingering on. For some reason, it's been my time with Andre that's been wondering through my mind the most. Maybe I'm upset that I did not write more details about him, mainly in fear that I'll have completely forgotten those 3 months of my life in a few years. I also thought of the last time I saw Alan, and how I said good bye to him... and how I never wrote that down, either. There wasn't any real feelings or attachments with my thoughts as I was cleaning... it was just like dusting off old memories. A different sort of spring cleaning. Though, I think alot of my thoughts were brought on by the little pieces of my memories that I ran across while cleaning (like the ticket stub from when Andre and I went to that baseball game in Atlanta in May of 02, or the "rough draft" of a letter Alan was supposed to write me about why he wanted to be with me again back in October of 01. I'm not sure where the final copy of that letter was... or even if there was ever a final copy) and listening to the new Avril Lavigne songs through MTV.com, which are reminiscent of The Cranberries to me (and they are a big part and stable to my emotional past). I put all of the little pieces of my past that I found in a box, taped it shut, and shoved it in the corner of my closet. Over the years I've found that's the best way to deal with the things that are choking you - hide it and forget it.

I don't really know. Maybe it's all the mindless rants on my regular game forms that I wish I could lash out and respond to, but I know better than to do that; nothing is ever accomplished and they end up attacking me personally in the end. Maybe I've been feeling tense about certain political issues (coughgaymarriagecough) that just leave me feeling powerless to help those that I love that are in that situation. Maybe it's all the issues with the war, and maybe my unconscious decision to never really speak of it here has finally started to get to me. Maybe it's from being so active over the past few days that I'm "crashing" by returning to my normal sluggish behavior. Or possibly it's things like this that make me fell silly and embarrassed, and thus make me contemplate moving my journal to yet another script. Maybe it's because it's been a decade that I've known Carl, and I'd like to tell him that it's been that long, but can't seem to get ahold of him. Or finally, maybe I just want to get the hell out of here to Myrtle Beach and roam around in my shirt that I didn't need to buy and forget everything else but ocean, sand, good seafood, and Matt. Hopefully my hormones will have calmed down by then.

I feel like I'm moving backwards in time.