Life as an Extreme Sport


I’m…not tired, yet tired at the same time. I’ve been fighting a lot on whether or not there’s really anything to be said over here, if there’s anything I want to put out there that I wouldn’t be willing to put out on Academia. I waffle – especially now that I’ve shared the URL with this quarters students. How much of my life do I want to become an open book? I’ve always maintained a policy that I’ll answer anything asked of me, but there’s a big difference between responding and volunteering.

In another vein, I’ve noticed lately the strong desire not to move on, but to have moved on. I’m seeing guys a touch differently, trying to read body language and signals, I’ve sussed out what it is I’m interested in, and I’ve noticed a few men who fit that description. I even went so far tonight as to leave a note (with a list of authors/essays, and my email addy) to someone at the restaurant I ate at – he asked what I was reading (Geertz), and we ended up talking for 10 minutes, until his manager yanked him back to work. He was friendly, asked my name, introduced himself, and stopped back to touch base with me, so I figured why not. If nothing else, I get someone else I can babble academia towards.

There’s a boy whose eyes haunt me. Perhaps some day…

Introspective tonight.