Lonely.

It’s at times like this. 2 AM, home from work and fighting sleep, that the loneliness is concrete.

The funny thing is that I am not alone. A whole 20 ft away is the roommate, formerly the fiance, but that relationship is as strained as you might imagine.

When classes are in session, I barely have time to think, never mind dwell,  but the 40 hour summer work weeks leave me with too much time on my hands.

And it’s not a romantic relationship longing, though a little intimacy, to put it politely, would be welcomed.

What I really want is a once a week boyfriend. Someone who will settle for one date a week and plenty of phone time. But I doubt he exists. And I don’t even need that.

I would even be happier if I got to spend more outside of work time with Johanna, or if Jen lived closer, or of it wasn’t an hour and a half to my grandparents’ house. Or if people I missed would return my phone calls. Just a little acknowledgment is all I’m asking.

Or maybe I just need some sleep.

No Progress…

The extra day off a week hasn’t translated into more time, mostly because I’ve been working an extra day or two most weeks.

And I still have as much to do as ever. But not nearly as much as I will have to do in a month, when classes start again. I can hardly believe that most of the summer is gone and I have nothing to show for it.

There books I meant to read, pages I meant to write, papers I meant to research and models I meant to build.

But at least my room is clean.

Is it sick?

That I read the entire HP book in one sitting. I took one hour out to watch Big Love, half an hour to talk on the phone, and I took one bathroom break.

So, I read 1.95 pages a minute. I wish I could read text books that quickly!

Awkward

I change the sheets, I shave my legs, I almost fall asleep.

And when he arrives, we have awkward small talk, I give the awkward tour, and awkwardly lead him by the hand to my bedroom. He awkwardly shuts the door and I say what needs to be said.

“Well, this is awkward.”

And then I shut off the light, put my arms around him and kiss him like awkward doesn’t exist.

For an hour and a half, it doesn’t. It’s like riding a bike, really. A noisy, inappropriate, bike that tastes like Vodka.

And I know it’s wrong, but it is just too right for me to care.

House of Order

I bet you thought I forgot I had a blog. This is not true.

I’ve just been selfish. I’ve been reading all your blogs, but not contributing my own writing. ha!

Now I know I moved into this apartment in April, but tonight the final box was finally unpacked. I can see the floor of my bedroom and it actually looks like someone lives here.

Don’t get me wrong; it’s still not to the level of organization I’d like, but it’s a start. I feel like a human being and a bit more peaceful. When the outside is ordered, the inside feels steadier.

Yes, very deep. But it’s pixels on screen and it’s 2 AM.

Now that my house  is ordered, I’m free to write. But that may not be a good thing, all things considered.