Suddenly I See.

I feel like painting some sort of tragedy on canvas but le grande
studio is in the basement and the basement is scary at night. It feels
like a murderer is lurking in some hidden corner except there are no
hidden corners. Also there is a dead chipmunk in my driveway and it is
being devoured by all kinds and manners of insects. The circle of life
I told my roommate. I am living in a horror movie.

I am exhausted from all of these boys. I can only paint my face, curl
my hair, and spew out witty lines so many times before I become one of
those girls I always feel like torturing. You know, the ones who smile
too much, laugh too loudly, and are overly polite.

In a few more weeks I can resume my nerdy, anti-social descent into
the academic life. At least then I will have important things to think
about like global economies and mass marketing strategies, rather than
thinking about reasons why I shouldn't make out with any of these boys
I meet. Apparently, they all have something wrong with them. Somehow
it is very difficult to imagine myself making out with any of them
without becoming physically revolted. I cannot recall the last time I
had a problem making out with just about anyone. Maybe I should start
drinking again. That always seems to cause a re-evaluation of
standards and protocol.

I was also thinking this morning, when I was experiencing an
inexplicable urge to get it on with someone, anyone really, that it
would be entirely reasonable to call up ex-boyfriends to inquire about
their relationship status. And now I know what it is like to think
like a man because clearly, such phone calls would signal desperation
and I am not entirely desperate, just looking for some sort of
unfortunate temporary replacement and cannot from this point forward
allow hormonal impulses to ruin my life.

I sat by a pool today sipping, okay devouring, sugary alcoholic
inventions, attempting to destroy boredom by forgetting about it. But
the distraction wore off quickly and the boredom only multiplied and
then suddenly I felt trapped by the strip malls, the coffee shops, and
the mini vans so I ran away to the city only to be surrounded by
misguided youth, unskilled vagrant guitarists, and men whistling as
they passed in cars. And somehow that wasn't any better but there
wasn't any place else to go.