sarahrose: (necklace)
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I'm feeling really gross, in a "my throat is swollen and I feel nauseous and my head hurts" kind of way. And so I can't really write in cogent, fleshed-out paragraphs. 

Fragments, then:

I went into the office this morning for a couple of hours, to get a feel for the space and the people. Helped set up the office; sorted out my email and voicemail. I was in for only 2 hours and managed still to leave with "oh, dear god, this is a gong show being run by people I have absolutely no desire to spend the next 3 months building and running a Festival with. Shit". Maybe all Festival people are simply bat-shit crazy and frenetic and self-important? Back tomorrow; me and my colleague - the woman I'm running the volunteer program with - are going to sit down and pow-wow our plan of attack. Maybe actually starting in on that will assuage my apprehensions about working with her.

Got a phone call this afternoon to interview for an events coordinator position with the Pride Society. We'll see how this current gig shapes up, and what the more in-depth scoop for the position with Pride is.

Yesterday afternoon was coffee with a girl who's actually bi, and poly for-real, and whose relationship situation seems legitimately stable and wonderful. Have I found my Unicorn!? She gets bonus points for the New Zealand accent, anyway. We clicked really well, which is to say that we seem to be able to talk absolutely openly about everything and anything. So we're now in the midst of swapping thoughts about how we want to shape this and where we see it going (refreshingly novel, being able to have this discourse). (Open palm, Sarah; open palm. The clenched fist has never done you any good.) (But have I told you how madly I yearn for a real, significant, soul-opening Connection with a woman? Have I? I'm trying to hold that not-in-desperation.)

Yesterday night was a Second Date with a boy. I knew with absolute certainty that it was A Date when, once we'd finished our dinner at the restaurant around the corner from his house and he suggested we go back to his place, I found myself feeling nervous and shy and apprehensive in that "Ok, learning to navigate uncharted beyond-platonic territory" kind of way. I met his cats and I poured over his books and movies and art; we smoked his cigarettes (I don't smoke), drank amaretto, and watched half of Shawshank Redemption (which I'd never seen). I Like him. He does heartspace with freedom and ease, which I really value. Neither of us made The First Move while we were there on his couch, but as I was sitting on the bus heading home, I received a text message from him: I wanted to kiss you. I'm shy about these things, still. Next time. My lips were sticky-sweet with amaretto, I thought to myself. That would have made a yummy first kiss. I can be shy too, I wrote back, giddily kicking my feet; let's let each other off the hook and call it endearing. I don't even know where to begin to process the fact that he's trans - that is, in the context of a potential lover - and so I haven't yet.

I'm being a Terrible Student right now, typing this rather than listening to my classmates' presentations. I have a silly crush on my professor, I've just decided: she's beautifully and adorably geeky, closes her eyes when she's articulating a particularly complex point, and has a wonder-ful smile.

Music:: Tori Amos - A Sorta Fairytale
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