If You Want to Know More About Me, Believe Rumors

October 2 2009.

This crash course in exercise, a tease, reminds me of the beginning of Outward Bound. I’d refused to go running beforehand, I’d taken only a few short powerwalks, and my heart and lungs almost exploded the first day on the water-8 hours kayaking in salt water. And the next day, and the next day, and I didn’t cry until the 5th day, the day I had a nervous breakdown on the sand- my hair had already turned to coarse rope, my hands were bleeding all over, I was purple with sunburn. A few days into the second week, I was alright. Things were still terrible, and I still woke up at night in panics, and there were the armies of crabs the colour of sand, and those racist homophobe boys (who were also so gentlemanly and taught me how to paddle and all the different kinds of seabirds and their prey), but I could take the work, and I could paddle without breaking my neck, and I could even jump right up and drag that fucker across the rocks when we hit shallow water.

I think it was Kristal, mainly, who taught me how to not take shit from people. On the way home, I stood in the airport without crossing my arms, and when my grandparents took me out to dinner, I embarrassed them by crowing over all the electric lights in the salad bar. I swear I ate a tomato that glowed. My grandmother ordered seafood something, and all I could think of was the way fish were just silver and shadows under water. The last day of OB, I took the coldest shower of my life in a roughly-assembled wooden stall with a hose up the side and over the top. It was about 5AM; I was first in line because due to a hypothermia scare, I hadn’t had one the night before. 24 hours later, I had a shower at my grandmother’s house. I made the water very hot; I hadn’t washed my hair in two weeks. But everything was white and tiled and sterile and I couldn’t see out of the window from the tub.

I was still in love, then, too. But she didn’t want to hear about the boy we had to pull out of quicksand, and the lightning drills in the middle of the night, and the boy’s skin peeling right off, and Kristal piercing her hands in a million places-almost to the bone-when she pushed off that coral reef, and that girl being helicoptered out, off the island. And maybe it was better that way- if you can make a fairytale, at least it’s good for a time.

On A Much Different Note:
This past Sunday, Ben and Liza and I went out. I managed to stay away from kitchen utensil aisles, even though I love them so much, because we needed to be places, and I can waste hours touching and holding and trying different ladles, potato mashers, garlic crushers, feeling the weight of carving knives in the creases of my palm. I bought high neon pink pumps that reminded me of Morgan.

Kevvy and I are going to full-body wax and there will be a day project, outside if it’s warm, or in a bathroom, with a collection of cool kids covering us in latex body paint. It will be blue. And Halloween. And BoyAdriel with his camera.

And Currently:
I’ve been writing lil queries to all my cool cats about fall break, to see if they’ll be around to rock it. Messaging people who’re out of this bubble has made me realize that school has made me talk so weird. Why?
It’s to the extent now that when I get home, strangers ask me where I’m from. Sometimes I make up answers.

After the gym tonight, Liza helped me take those bars out. There was a lot of pain involved, some blood, and some boy I don’t know asking if he could use his fingers to help, if he could stand and watch while my eyes rolled back a little. Oh, voyeurs. A girl, too, filling up her kettle at the sink saying, “Oh, can I see? What does it—OH. Ohhh. Oh.”

I wish I weren’t so intense. I think some things would be easier.