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05.10.04 - 12:45 a.m.
getting jiggy with it i have an appt. with my thrpst today at 1PM. i should let her do her job, and actually let her help me sort out my feelings there. for the past few months, i've just used that space to report to her the conclusions i've already worked out in my head. since classes ended last week, and i'm nearly free from t.a. responsibilities, i should push myself to shop around for a new t.... to be honest, june's the perfect time to go t-shopping in a college town since graduating students who leave town free up client lists and maybe i'll be able to find someone i wish to befriend, rather than someone i'm willing to submit my psyche and soul to for analysis each week. two sessions ago, when i described my sadness about saying goodbye to alice for the last time, i swear to the DSM-Goddess that I saw TEARS welling up in her eyes. i can only remember that happening once before, a very very long time ago (1992?) with my first t- - at the time i was describing my grief over my friend michelle's death in a plane crash...oddly, back then i felt comforted by that t's tears...her visible sadnesss felt like artificial walls crumbled and that she actually understood my pain; then, her crying made me want to open up more... a decade plus later, this t.'s tears anaestheticize me...i've grown callous and cynical. inside i'm saying, "lady, wouldya pull yourself together? you're acting SO unprofessionally, ugh! stop being such an amateur!" ... her tears make me want to withdraw into myself even deeper. to me, t-tears signify fragility, and more problematically, that she's got so many emotions she doesn't have room to deal with mine. tears suggest her desire to for consolation, yet i don't want to console her...her tears just get in my way... i didn't confront her on all those feelings her feelings brought up in me, because i didn't feel like wasting my time...and that didn't bother me in the least, i think. i keep cooling my resentment, because even if i blew up at her, she'd likely demand that we process that outburst and i don't want to invest any more energy into her or our relationship. when we first began meeting on mondays, i felt jipped. 'how could i go the rest of the week without any potential intervention to defuse all the roughtimes i knew would arise AFTER i'd seen her?" and now, the cyncial me feels happy with our distance...i'm enjoying the pleasure of just crossing out "See the T" on my To Do list. the fact that i don't care somehow signifies independence, a weaning off. she's not my best friend...she's not my only confidante, nor the only/first/most treasured person in whom i confide...she's not even the most reliable source of advice! in fact, she's so good at breaking boundaries, i've actually used her big mouth to get info on local thpsts and profs in town her unimportance to me allows me to keep in perspective the weight of her words. i'd feel differently, i suppose, if i were paying a hefty co-pay. as the rules of this wacky insurance world would have it, aetna covers the whole damn cost. yes, i'm sickened that she gets $80 a week to log in that i'm alive and not in danger of harming myself. that $80 should go to give therapy to someone who needs it more than i do... wait. yes, i know i certainly need therapy... like on saturday night, i went to a SLAMMIN' fun party...and danced for 2 hours...i surprised myself especially since the turf was new. an mfa student p____ threw a pre-celebration party. plus, he invited friends and family of other mfa students who happened to be in town for the end-of-the-year reading today... literally, i walk in the room and start examining the walls. my social skills tactic, i artfully peruse the bookshelf, cd collection, and posters hanging on the wall; meanwhile, out of my corner's eye, i scope out the room and figure out my evening's companions. irony of ironies, th___ and her mom sat directly in my line-of-vision when i first walked through the door. again, i breathe relief that she declined my 'so i have these feelings' confession in march. when she introduced me to her mom, i could just be another ubiquitous grad student at the party. and our small talk could be meaningless chatter rather than an awkward anxious meet the 'rents moment: considering that her mom's a progressive, liberal bible fearing mississippi single-mom ..., my new england 2nd-generation american immigrant blackness did not have to mean a thing... and still, i took pleasure in spending time on the futon talking with her mom longer than most, and catching the furtive gazes of t. looking at us talk..and imagining that she was relieved because (a) she wasn't introducing her mother to "the new love in her life, and yet (b) relieved that we got along swimmingly... hell, my 'rents raised me well enough to make anyone feel at home (hah hah, what a laugh in these multi-tiered levels of displacements). the party got hopping after midnight, when all the mfa's parents went home. the host busted out with awesome mixes of house, hip-hop, and old school music. then get friggin' contradiction number two: his blonde, blue-eyed, younger sister - a massage therapist in oregon - was the best dancer there!!!! as usual for this crowd, the women booggied while most of the men drank beer and looked on... okay, the gender lines weren't so clear... but, and i'm sure the race lines were even blurrier - i know i was happily buzzed when (a) i squealed every time lauryn hill or the word 'Brooklyn' played on the stereo..., and i knew i was rum roasted when i found ang_'s catch-phrase to describe where's she grew up in "white flight de-troit" hysterically funny (ya gotta flattan the second syllable into a long "i" to make the joke work... and also add vodka tonic to that rum drink! ang_ is such a sexual sensual dancer [oy, if she didn't have a long-term boyfriend...they're so good together...damn though if i couldn't bottle her spirit and conjure a lover like her for myself] ...i've got hip action, but my shoulders are way too stiff; all my upper body moves jerk,meanwhile she rolls her shoulders with a rhythmic motion... yah, a dance circle mostly of single women...of course i felt the sensuous vibe...and i know i'm the one inserting strangeness by dancing raucously (sometimes raunchily, it's all good fun tho'] with everyone else but her. i had a good time, yes, just dancing close to anyone feeling body heat intimately reminds me of how isolated i am ordinarly... and so, after such a fine night of hardly feeling my color even, of dancing with everyone not feeling self-conscious even if i feel abundantly overweight these days...why fuck it up declining a car ride home, and insisting on walking home by myself, so that i could stop by the 24 hour store and buy a cookie, bag of chips, and candy bar for a planned binge, so that i could then purge before i went to bed at 3:30AM??? (shit! i said i wouldn't process but let the t_ do her job tomorrow!) > short answer: i felt more resentful, upset, and hurt when i imagined confronting the feeling of coming home to an empty house [did i mention that my housemmate's away until may 20th (10 more days!] visiting her mom?]...i armored myself with comfort food to face coming home alone...rather than just come home alone. anyway, that's screwy fucked up...life's very good now...i found out i won a $500 best graduate essay in American literature award on saturday... i've got to process that out too because it's a dream come true - to EARN undisputably before my peers some recognition marker, especially for an essay where 2 of the 3 texts were canonical writers (poe and gilman)...affirmative action had NOTHING to do with this award, thank you very much... i realize i'm opening huge cans of worms by not explaining that comment, but in short...i've grown sick of others murmoring, and thus me internalizing and devaluing my own rightful claims to awards... i interrupt this stream of thought to say that Clarence Thomas's anti-affirmative action argument is SO about HIS lack of self-esteem, NOT the institutional mandate to historically redresses YEARS of policy-driven and tacit-agreement to refuse to award or consider candidates who look like me or with histories like mine so yes, my silent shock, surprise, inner but muted glee over this award has everything to do with disbelief, vindication, unfamiliar territory, even fear of how to walk with pride over a job well done... it's 1:30 am, i'm fading... sunday, today was equally eventful...went to the mfa reading...again, enjoyed stolen intimate pleasures of sitting with other/bodies close in packed room...welcomed... may another week begin
MUSIC: me'shell ndegecello, comfort woman
READING: mfa thesis reading
FEELING: jiggy with possibilities
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