The Significance of Unattended Bicycles

I thought I had learned not to trust this feeling, but here it comes again, ready or not, willing or not, benign or not.
We sat together at our own table with our vegetarian dinners and "Float On" was playing in the background, except you could only hear the bass line and the chords changing. I somehow manage to eat less than her, even though she's half my size. I had confessed to her why I like eating at this dining hall on Mondays, even when the vegetarian options aren't good, to see that girl for at least a few more seconds than I normally would. She lays her fork onto her plate and says, in a tone unpatronizing and even sweet, "You really like her, don't you?"
I've made a huge mistake. I've felt too much and done nothing, received nothing. If I was spartan, stoic, more scientific, more discerning, maybe I wouldn't have done this again, wouldn't see anything in where she leaves her bike. Now I'm at that awkward and self-defeating junction: Do I give up, sever all attachment and just think nothing of it anymore, or keep on this feeling, hoping something in it turns to boldness, words, actions perhaps?

Hot Water

Hot water is just fantastic! I just love how I can go to our bathroom down the hall whenever I want and I can experience it. If I've been outside too long with no gloves, I can turn on the tap to rub hot water on my hands to keep them from hurting and drying up. Every morning or evening, I can get up and take as hot a shower as I want. In the dining hall, I can get hot water to make tea with, and then pour in milk and honey and any other thing I want.
I don't know why it makes me so happy. For the strangest reason, I always think of what things would be like without that luxury. Less sanitary, if you look at it pragmatically, but who cares about health? The things to look forward to would diminish by, not one, but hundreds. Cold showers and cold tea, that would be awful. Warmth. How in hell is it so valuable? The sensation alone improves a bad mood, and it's not as addictive as other sensations.
There's a famous study of a baby monkey. He was basically raised by two robot mothers from which he would get his milk from and everything, except one had a soft yellow sleeve over it. The baby monkey soon only accepted milk from the soft robot. I guess maybe that sort of explains it, the value of warmth, I mean. Attachment is created through pleasant sensation. If something isn't warm, it makes the entire environment more hostile. Imagine being a college student with only cold showers and tea available. How difficult would that become?
I love overcast days, but if those little pockets of warmth weren't so easily accessible, I'd have a lot of trouble.
Is that spoiled? I don't think so. No one wants to live without warmth, and if they have to, their life doesn't seem better at all for it. People can deal, and so would I, but it just goes back to the monkey. The whole environment gets better with things like that to enjoy.

I Will Marry 60% Of My Classmates

We were talking about Erickson's psychosocial stages the other day in my introductory psychology class. We got to experiences in early adulthood, which ultimately determine a person's intimacy with other people, or their isolation. This lead to that until my professor said something about our friends now. Some of the people I know now I will still have a close connection to thirty years from now. That's simply the strangest thing to me.
The people I know are from every place. One's from Georgia, most are from Massachusetts, others from New York, Alaska, Michigan, so on. It's crazy to me that the people I casually eat dinner with now, I'll be flying across the country to see them in my middle age. Maybe I'm just not confident in that right now. Maybe I'm a cynic at the moment, can't see any of that happening either because I think people'll be too busy or are too busy, or I'll just fuck things up with the people I really wouldn't mind flying cross-country for right now. The latter just seems painfully possible at the moment.
I've been going back a lot to the old questions again: Am I annoying/stupid/mean/rude/making you feel too uncomfortable to even look at me when you say goodbye? I can't help but think that's all I ever act like.
But she laughs, confides. What does anything mean?

Vacillating, Fickle, Etc.

I don't know if I like this anymore, or what I don't like anymore. It could just be one of those old episodes of that very instant feeling of being upset, except it seems they aren't old at all. I hate those. They would waste so much time with me just staring outside my window watching the young fig tree outside in our backyard bend around in the wind. I can't let myself get into that state again, not even for a minute. Not thinking's just as bad as thinking too much about it, and both are never as good as doing something. I've got too much studying to do today, too.
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Avey Tare- "Laughing Hieroglyphic"

Dancing From Mouthtips, to Perfume, to Macquoit Road

For those of us who don't remember (what's wrong with you?), "Hey Ya!" was a hit single by Outkast way back in 2003. It was kind of popular. I danced to it last night, a little after I told myself that I shouldn't care about things right now. I was worried at first, but I told myself that I needed to get to thinking about absolutely nothing at the moment. She wasn't there. And if she was, what would I even do? If I couldn't even let go of myself when there was no one looking for me, then what? So I danced, and I didn't feel awkward. I really got into whatever song was playing, even if I didn't know it, which was most of them, and this isn't about her anymore. I can dance for myself, now. Least, so long as there's a group I know. At least.
I found the mouthpiece I used for hookah last night in my sweater pocket. It smelled of ashy guava and jasmine and I remembered how much closer I am to falling into this place. I don't use mouthpieces because I'm sick or a germophobe, I use them just for this reason, remember the night before.
Her scent's still a phantom, though, presenting itself at times I don't think of her, when she isn't even here or around, whenever. I think I'll just have to dance harder and bike until my lungs are filled with the air of the marsh that Macquoit Road falls into.

Bonding Over Violent Movies and Railroad Tracks (The Weekend)

Leave it to me to pick out a girl that just so happens to have a load of unattended baggage. Well, I guess I could pick out anyone from the dining hall on any given day and they'd always have problems with whatever people have problems with these days, so I guess it's inevitable and nothing to really complain about. Perhaps instead of being a point of contention, it's really a fulcrum I simply need to learn to use, and then use it, of course. I guess it's mostly just annoying for the moment because I don't intend to maintain my current status as confidante. It's fun to just be friends with good people, at least.
I figure I'm not being at all too tactful about any of this, though. The only obvious displays of affection I can ever manage are in private moments, not that we're always accompanied or surrounded, it's just that I'm very certain those displays are not all appropriate for me and her right now. In every situation, then, the only way I can actually express any desire for anyone is by being a friend, which is wholly counterproductive to my ultimate ends and isn't it just like me to now change my mind about the whole thing? I shouldn't be fretting and worrying about speeding this whole thing along. Maybe this is supposed to start with watching Fight Club and then Kill Bill the next night. And then, what does it matter if it starts absolutely nothing at all?
There are these train tracks in town that lead to places. We were told that if one follows them, they go to some nice little spots. Me and her decided to walk along them today. They're defunct, not used now. Some of the ties are shattered, and most of them aren't even straight. The surrounding forest isn't dense; you can see brightly and dimly colored houses in the distance through the trees. The ground immediate to the tracks is packed by all of these rocks. They crunch when you step on them and make this noise like bones rattling if you drag your feet and kick them, except it sounds more musical than that, but only if you get it right. We didn't really have all day today, so we only went so far as this bridge. It was slow to get to the middle of it, since it's not really meant to be walked on (there are gaps between the ties that have nothing under them). The bridge is over this river. I don't know which river it is. It was windy. She suggested that we bring a kite next time. The water was perfectly blue and wrinkled all over, and the top of the tree line was yellow and orange while it's skirt was still green and the ground it stood on was brown like it always is/will be. We talked about all different things. She talked about her problems with her recent ex for a small bit, but then she talked about other things: movies, school, the broken glass we would see in between the loose rocks, the way she wears brown-colored contacts even though she's got blue eyes. I haven't seen them yet.
I hugged her good night yesterday. It was one of those side-hugs, but still different. Somehow, my chin found itself on top of her head, the hard bone of her skull cushioned by her hair and maybe some kind of sentiment? I wish I could remember if it was me who pulled her close or if it was her who cocked her head towards me, and if it wasn't all because she was so dead tired.

Fuck me. It's like I enjoy being some kind of idiot.
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Grizzly Bear: "Two Weeks

White Wine, Pink Hair, College, etc.

How has college been? I have a lot of free time. I mean a LOT. Peter and I don't have a TV in our room, which is good because we don't really want one at all, so most of the leisure time I've got is spent on biking. I'm not familiar or comfortable enough to go too far into town, so most of my biking is done around the campus. Besides that, I sometimes go and talk to any of the many people I'm acquainted with, mostly girls, which I find funny. It's really really awesome to be allowed to be so spontaneous, and I love it. To be schedule-less and without commitments to anyone is great. I hardly have a schedule to follow most days, but I miss some routines, like having dinner or breakfast or lunch with the same person or people everyday. That comfort and anchor doesn't exist for me right now, which I dislike. I don't like it at all, actually, and I think I hate it. I haven't quite fallen into a perfect niche yet, but I'm sure I'll get into one, preferably one that still allows me this lovely spontaneity.
The weather is just like home, which I like, except for more rain, which I love. The overcast days occur often with their soft light and wind. Sunny days come just as often (for now) and they're truly brilliant, the sun veiling the older and more featured buildings with distinguished shadows. Even though it'd put an end to my bike adventures, I can't wait until it starts to snow.
I acquired wine the other day, but it's cheap commercial wine. yellowtail. I asked for some kind of California riesling, but they got me two bottles of yellowtail riesling. Not at all cool, but I haven't tasted it yet, which is the only way to be sure, but still. I know I'm a college kid. I'm supposed to just want to get piss drunk, but no. I like wine because I like having something complex and nice to taste with someone else, probably nice and complex as well.
I've learned lots of new phrases, most of them vulgar. "Mackin on" is a phrase that literally means fucking, but it's mostly used as a joke. If someone wishes to pursue a closer relationship with someone else, it could be joked that they're mackin on them. Charming in how blunt it is.
There's a girl with pink hair in my building. Not all pink, though I think I've seen another girl once with short hair, all of it an electric blue. She just has a few long locks of pink left. Not hot pink, which is what it used to be. It's more the shade of pale cotton candy, soft and light, all of it on blond hair. I don't know why it's so eye-catching. I've seen a lot of eye-catching hair, all attractive for some strange reason. There's a rather whimsical girl who goes here with a full head of dreadlocks. Something refreshing about seeing her. There's another one with short hair, except she has this rat's tail that grows asymmetrically from her neck. Anyway, pink haired girl's nice. All of her pajamas apparently have hearts on them which is both silly and charming. She has a self-consciously bad taste in books and doesn't listen to enough music. I guess one could say that I'm mackin on her. I guess. Fall break's this coming weekend, and I'm staying on campus. It would be nice to get to know her more then. We have a plan to take a trip into town to the Salvation Army store this weekend, and we'll explore the rest of Brunswick, too. I may even have someone to share the yellowtail with *a-wink wink*. I guess I still run into some of the old problems, though. The subtle shyness. The feeling of not feeling appropriate to the situation. Whether I'm actually wanted around or not. I'll try not to let them come up, though, especially this weekend.
There are lots of trees around on campus. My dorm faces a tiny forest. It's not the densest one in the world, but if you look at it from certain angles, it looks impenetrable. The trees become fence posts that guard some neighbor's yard. They start to hide something, even though you know it's only houses on the other side, but that's only what you know. You don't actually go through. They hide something for those that want to look below, through, underneath.