| May 6, 1999 | |
      
Scribblings: "Approach with Caution" Walking through yards in the warmth of spring, I think, that rhododendron bush would have been a wonderful place to escape and hide with her, the perfume of the fuscia flowers, the smell of her, the musk of me. Little girls finding that pleasure-touch in hairless realms, Not knowing why her lips felt sweet on mine, and what she did when my eyes were closed. (c)kmc |
 Last night Cate
talked to me. I can't say we had a discussion, because
she talked, I nodded. Even when I tried to interject
comments, she just said "Yeah," cutting me off and not
hearing what I said. I could have said she was a
spineless bitch and she wouldn't have reacted. But she was telling me the conversation that she and her friend had just had on the phone about rumors flying about her sexual orientation. I had been in the same room as she talked on the phone, so I heard everything. She's really hurt me lately. She recently became good friends with a sophomore named Jill. Jill, along with another woman, Kelly, have been helping Cate ever since she decided to explore her lesbian tendencies. The other day, though, I found out that Jill was one of the students I was in charge of during New Student Orientation when I was an orientation leader a couple of years ago. I couldn't stand Jill. She couldn't stand me, either. She acted tough, and like she didn't give a shit about me or how hard I was trying to last through 2 sweltering days with snotty 18 year olds. Well, this is Cate's Jill. I don't care if they're friends. I don't care if Jill thinks I'm the anti-christ. The point is that Cate didn't even blink about telling me that Jill didn't like me. And Cate went into it more last night. Jill didn't like orientation, it was a horrible time, and she referred to me as some "chick." Cate spouted off these phrases like a ridiculous children's water toy. I felt this part of me, kind of small already, shrink deeper and deeper internally. All I could think was, "I'm done with her" (meaning Cate). Of course I never said anything. Such a wuss. Would it have been worth it to say something to her? Maybe I was too tired to act. I've always, always felt that I've been sensitive to others' feelings. I may be blunt in other aspects, but I don't like to give orders. I'd be a terrible manager. It's a good thing I don't want to be a manager of anything. I also felt that shrinking feeling today while I was speaking in front of my English "peers" (faculty and classmates). I planned out what I would say, and rehearsed it in my kitchen. But when I got up to the table, sitting with my legs not crossed and my professors staring back at me, my voice sank into the back of my throat. I felt like I was in a vortex, similar to when I feel sleepy. Everything spins away from me and becomes very small and distant. I don't know whether it's concentration or something else. like me.
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