Monday, May 01, 2006


Well. I got my paralytic weekend. Saturday night at Koko in Camden, since none of my senior citizen friends in their late 20s and early 30s do drugs anymore but still go out a lot, everyone double-fisted drinks the entire night. Whenever someone went to the bar, he/she would return carrying about 10 beer bottles, and pass them out to our group of 10. At one point I found myself on the middle of the dancefloor holding seven (7) bottles. Yet strangely, nothing compelled me to share. Particularly since my friends had the same glass contents in their hands. Then, of course, were the bottles of vodka we snuck in from which to shoot all night. I needed Saturday night. I've not had a night like that in a long time. I have no idea what happened in the rest of the club because I think our group only payed attention to each other.

Awesome called me on Sunday afternoon to demand, "So how many homos came up and hit on you or danced with you or just came up and kissed you? Cuz, baby, you know that happens, and don't deny it doesn't."
"Argh. Baby, I didn't meet any homos last night. For all I know there weren't any there."
"Are you sure?"
"Boyfriend, the only men who danced with me were Simon and Allie."
"Who's Allie!? IS THAT THE GAY ONE!?"
"No. Allie is straight, too. And the only man who kissed me was Simon. But he always kisses me, as he is a wonderful drunken fool," I told him.
"I know. We have to do something about that. Baby, give me his girlfriend's number."

After nearly three years, I still really like having a naturally jealous Rican boyfriend. It just makes me feel so loved and protected. It's psychotic, in a way, I know, but hey, that's just to what I am accustomed. He's a worrier. But I couldn't be with a non-worrier.

I'm a naturally paranoid worrier, too. My parents are/were; it's hereditary. But because of awful past occurences, I just assume that everyone dies. Really. That's what happens inside my head when I cannot get ahold of someone. My father didn't call me back late one night and then my sister called the next morning to report his unexpected death. A few months before my 19th birthday, I called my childhood best friend on her mobile and she didn't call me back; the next morning her mother called my mom to say that she had died. My junior year of college when my thesis advisor (with whom I was rather close ) didn't email me back, I arrived at his office the next morning to learn of his sudden death.

Everyone just goes and dies on me, you see. Hence my unfortunate psychological prowess for automatically preparing for the worst. My prolific imagination definitely does not help things, either. In fact, it makes things worse. While sitting around freaking-out about someone's whereabouts, the most horrific scenarios are staged in my mind, causing my blood pressure to increase for no reason, other than the fact that I've got an over-active, dramatic imagination. Yes: I expect to be fully senile by the time I'm 50.

Nowadays, whenever someone in my family calls each other, the conversation goes like this:
"What's wrong?"

Yesterday my little brother didn't call me back all day so I sat around worrying and preparing the eulogy for his funeral, too. When Boy finally called me at midnight, he told me he had been at his roommate's dad's funeral all day. The roommate's parents' car was hit by a drunk driver; the mother is still in the hospital with a tube stuck down her throat, so she couldn't even attend her own husband's funeral. And yesterday, poor Boy just went through the same emotions he felt at his own father's funeral, less than 1.5yrs after it all happened. I cannot imagine what Boy's roommate's family is going through; I've met them all and they're such nice, happy, grateful people. Or at least they were. I couldn't imagine dealing with death and such profound anger, since really, this father was murdered by some jackass who crashed into him.

Cars scare the shit out of me, man. They are pure evil on four wheels. I often feel much safer living in London or New York. I wonder if I'll ever actually want to live somewhere I must drive instead of walking everywhere. Probably not. I mean, until Awesome gives birth to triplets, we buy an SUV, and move to Connecticut. Oh fuck: I can only imagine Awesome and me as parents - we would paranoiacally worry about our kids so much that they would run away and join the carefree circus, or the Bloods or Crypts, or the Church of Scientology - it's all the same thing.

Oi. I still have so much work to do during the next two weeks. If I don't start completing things rather than just working on them, I'm gonna have to drag my laptop all over Scandinavia.

There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will. - Epictetus