one of those abdominal-enhancing episodes of laughter erupted when i learned that James decided I might possibly be the girl for him when, having unexpectedly encountered a comic-con at a Howard Johnson hotel in Delray Beach, Fl in which we were staying for the duration of a nearby academic conference, just days after he had declared emphatically that he did not "consider me his girlfriend" and wanted "to see other people" after I exchanged saliva with a handful of women and, evidently, one man, though my hippocampus failed to record the incident, before asking him if we could "pretend I'm not on birth control so that I (could) have (his) babies", i expressed interest in and a willingness to purchase and employ ornately decorated paddles for use in sexual rituals prominently displayed in a booth (wo)manned by two ladies dressed in renaissance-themed regalia.

if only i had known that would do the trick.

Last night I had a dream...

... in which my PhD mentor showed up at my parents house, where I was staying and participating in a combined Christmas/amusement-park event, for a meeting for which I was not prepared. In addition, for some reason unknown to me, the left side of my mouth was numb, rendering my speech difficult if not impossible to decipher. And I had not managed to dress myself completely. While my mentor waited for me gather the relevant materials, she asked my (deceased) grandmother to interview me on her behalf, so that she could go and play soccer with my 14 y.o. sister. When I later emerged from the house, my mentor was wearing a midriff-bearing (yet still "professional") blouse, while engaging in said soccer-playing with my sister. Naturally, when they kicked the ball to me, I was completely unable to mount a coordinated physical response and simply flailed aimlessly as it approached. Soon I was rushing to gather the necessary accoutrement including a printout of my health insurance card necessary to attend and complete a gynecological exam at the doctor's office. Of course, time and printers were scarce, so I simply threw my laptop in my mother's Honda Odyssey minivan (license plate: ILIAD) and we hit the road. Jack. Frantically scrambling into the doctor's office building, I realized I had neglected to carry the laptop with me and it remained in the car. As I sprinted to retrieve it, I implored my mother to jump on the (finally arriving) elevator and to let them know I would arrive momentarily.

... that after being stood up on a date (with whom I know not, but I think it was someone for whom I once harbored romantic feelings while in college), I was convinced to tour the top floor of my dorm, and subsequently found myself making out with a coworker with whom I have no desire to exchange any sort of bodily fluid (nor did I have any such desire in the dream). I felt only the agony of guilt, knowing that I was only in love with James. Soon said coworker's girlfriend arrived and the guilt became nearly intolerable as I considered the impact of my abhorrent behavior on her feelings. Still I could not extricate myself due to some mysterious lack of self-efficacy that pervaded the dream. Instead I was left to hope that I was dreaming, a hope that haunted me until I finally awoke and found myself in my own bed with James beside me. As usual, my pillow, sheets, and I were soaking wet, my fingertips wrinkled as if I had been swimming for hours.

i remember the fire of late late adolescence like it was yesterday. the neophyte clinician who can't resist playing therapist with all her friends. the daughter still e-merged in the pleasing river (now swimming for shore). the partner in a costume of heroics. but now some are blind. the ashes all fall(en) down and the white picket boundary(or maybe its pink)i've built in its place. the mental mud they're still mucking in still sticking to my boots.
yum, yum.