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sunday, may 9, 1999, 04:09 the days drag on and on, but by the end of them, i find that i am no better off than when i started. what? a model for architecture. i-beams contructed, but not much else at this point. not much? who am i kidding. nothing else. a program to write. seemingly no end in site. two in a team of four throwing themselves at this thing, as as soon as one section is completed, it is as if another section creates itself, begging to be written. looming finals, not even in my mind. job search? hello? the air is cool and clean. surprisingly so for this time of year. and i was going to go out for a walk tonight with her, but i ended up asleep on the couch and she with friends. and it was better off that way anyway. am i getting too close? too attached. a need to see her ever night, every day, and a feeling of emptiness, that death in the pit of my stomach if i don't. what do you call that? (...) are you allowed to call it that? the meds that they prescribed to me yesterday might be working. pills, sprays and inhalants. all to help the breathing. breathing and the need for space and ... i relized last week that i was having trouble brething. i realized it, and i proceeded to ignore it, as i often do with illnesses, hoping that it would go away. well, it didn't go away and my parents made me promise to go to the doctore. well, i did. nurse practitioner, actually, and i always wonder if i'm really getting the best possible care if i don't see a doctore. actually, i'm probably getting better care without a doctor. so i went to see the r.n./n.p. person (4:30am... the birds just started their morning song) and she poked and looked in my ears and my nose and my throat and did the "mmm... mmmhmmm... no swollen... mmm" thing, and proceeded to tell me that i wasn't in fact sick, but that i was merely suffering from allergies, and here, have $128 worth of drugs that might make you feel better. which didn't actually make me feel better (the money part of it), but we'll see if the drugs do their job. the real kicker to this whole experience was that once again, i was reminded that people actually think that i'm a lot taller than i am. "So," she said to me, after she tested my breathing, "you're a bit on the low side of the scale for someone who is... five-nine, right?" no. i'm actually five-four, five-fiveish. "no you're not." no really, i am. "you are not. get off the table and stand up." i really am. "oh. wow. i guess you are." so that either means that the years that my mother made me stand up straight really did pay off, or that i have this commanding precense that makes people think that i'm really much taller than i am. i can't imagine that it's either thing, and attribute it to the fact that my pants are often too long and it confuses people. ... i wrote about what i saw today. about a relationship that has been ongoing. and i don't see how it can continue this way. and i hope it doesn't. and i know it will. and i know it's none of my business. as always, more creativity is stored here than in my daily life. i need to stop being so boring.
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