The sky is overcast, and outside the trees sway as the gusts of Cape Town wind are picking up. The air-conditioning in this lab is not run by principles of human comfort; rather, the thermostat is adjusted to a temperature that draws a stark distinction between an environment and its occupants.
It is cold. I am cold, although I cool easily. I am waiting in the lab with Chris to write a test in two hours, but such a long time in the short-term feels like we are waiting for nothing at all.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Of love and loss
The year's just begun and already shite states of affairs are brewing. Last night I attended a farewell party for my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend who I am still deeply in love with, and I just realised how little time I have left with him. Max (the wonderful man in question) is going to Johannesburg to study for a Master's degree and it looks so exciting. I'm going to miss him so much though. The party was a really decent affair, except Max and I kept going into his room to cry and cuddle and by the second time I was too sodomised by sadness to go out again, so I curled up in his bed and fell asleep like a big party pooper.
Every time I start crying with Max around he hugs me and I try to remember that for when he isn't around and I have a tears festival for one.
The English language seems so inadequate sometimes. 'I'm going to miss him' is such a fucking understatement of how I feel about this. It's probably a result of the semantic inflation of abstract nouns, and right now I am annoyed with myself for contributing to this, if only because I wish those words conveyed more.
So I knew this day was coming from very early on when we started dating, but I fell in love with him anyway. I believe I would have fallen for him even if I tried not to. It is really strange being on the experiential end of a concept which, for a very long time, has not been particularly meaningful to me.
On an unrelated note, I have this OCD about blood. It's really, really distracting and I have trouble with life and personal relationships because I am mostly preoccupied with avoiding blood and blood traces. Today Max helped me carry some stuff up to my apartment and on our way down I noticed a trail of blood drops from the gate to the stairs. I hope neither of us stepped in it but it's highly likely that I had. I put my boots on the carpet in my room and now the anxiety is hitting me like a Teutonic invasion about how I'm going to avoid touching the carpet or the underside of my boots and how many things I may potentially lose by accidentally dropping them on the floor. I have a patch of broken skin on my hand and a few healing cuts on the underside of my foot (which don't dispense blood) which I am worried about being points-of-entry into my body. This is pathetic, but part of my fear for blood is the remote possibility of being infected by a blood-borne disease like HIV or hepatitis and thus ending up forever alone or a vector to people I care about. That is my greatest fear, now that I think about it. I am incredibly dismayed by how I may have tracked blood into the apartment and my room and this is compounding on the pre-emptive feelings of loss that I've been sinking in these past few days.
Anyway, I love Max and I really wish I could have spent more time with him before he leaves.
Every time I start crying with Max around he hugs me and I try to remember that for when he isn't around and I have a tears festival for one.
The English language seems so inadequate sometimes. 'I'm going to miss him' is such a fucking understatement of how I feel about this. It's probably a result of the semantic inflation of abstract nouns, and right now I am annoyed with myself for contributing to this, if only because I wish those words conveyed more.
So I knew this day was coming from very early on when we started dating, but I fell in love with him anyway. I believe I would have fallen for him even if I tried not to. It is really strange being on the experiential end of a concept which, for a very long time, has not been particularly meaningful to me.
On an unrelated note, I have this OCD about blood. It's really, really distracting and I have trouble with life and personal relationships because I am mostly preoccupied with avoiding blood and blood traces. Today Max helped me carry some stuff up to my apartment and on our way down I noticed a trail of blood drops from the gate to the stairs. I hope neither of us stepped in it but it's highly likely that I had. I put my boots on the carpet in my room and now the anxiety is hitting me like a Teutonic invasion about how I'm going to avoid touching the carpet or the underside of my boots and how many things I may potentially lose by accidentally dropping them on the floor. I have a patch of broken skin on my hand and a few healing cuts on the underside of my foot (which don't dispense blood) which I am worried about being points-of-entry into my body. This is pathetic, but part of my fear for blood is the remote possibility of being infected by a blood-borne disease like HIV or hepatitis and thus ending up forever alone or a vector to people I care about. That is my greatest fear, now that I think about it. I am incredibly dismayed by how I may have tracked blood into the apartment and my room and this is compounding on the pre-emptive feelings of loss that I've been sinking in these past few days.
Anyway, I love Max and I really wish I could have spent more time with him before he leaves.
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