Monday, January 31, 2011
Return of the Talcum
I’ve been here in the lab since 9am and I've done nothing. I have a meeting in one hour in which I'll own up to doing nothing for the last week, so it seems pointless to change that now. I’m about to put on some music. That’ll help me feel better. Nope. I feel scared. I stayed up late last night, numbing my mind with sudoku puzzles. This is ridiculous. I’m so paralyzed right now. I’m literally paralyzed (figuratively). P a r a l y z e d ( f i g u r a t i v e l y ). On Saturday, I woke up around noon with a mind to make up for a week of slacking. I was going to get shit done. On my way to the front door, I decided to make a pizza and watch Colbert. I decided that the day must die and I killed it without remorse. I bludgeoned it with frozen food, tv shows, and sudokus. Let’s not focus on the bad though. I was feeling avoidy all day but around 8pm I started to feel a bit like my old self. My self from this summer. I felt like soul-dancing. I decided to go to Talcum for the first time in months. I invited Kathleen; she was with Eleanor. I invited Neil and Kraig; they were uninterested. I invited Jim; he was already going! With his friends from fisheries (fish people)! We’d meet up later, briefly, just enough to say “hi, friend.” I went alone -- just like I used to. It really is better that way. It’s just awkward dancing in a group of people, you can’t really talk and communicating through dance is prone to misunderstandings. Either you have a perpetual dance-off (admittedly, this can be tons of fun with the right people, Ryan Brown) or you half-ignore each other while you try to balance the proper amount of personal space with the proximity that says “hi, friend.” I feel much more comfortable just blowing around all by myself on the dance floor. And the attention is nice. Whether it’s due to, in spite of, or completely indifferent to my lack of dancing ability, I feel like I get a lot of "you're cute" looks. And I can almost remember how to be comfortable with myself again.