silly notes. we're all allowed silly notes, right?

yesterday, at the gym, i ran into this guy i had a crush on in high school. ieeeek! funny thing is that my radar might not have been as off as i thought it was because both of us turned out to be queer kids. so, there i was focusing on not falling off the threadmill when he walked up to me and started chatting. suddenly, the oppressive testoterone gym atmosphere dropped down one level when i realized that most of the guys there all seemed to know each other... and looked all so queer as well! i was just waiting for them to break out and sign YMCA!

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i saw mr. c. for the last time yesterday. he was my monday mornings for the past months at work. both dreaded and cheerful. he was about my height, though easily three times my size. you could easily see him working as a santa claus in a mall, he had the physique and the facial hair for it, though he'd probably have to drop the (sometimes racist) jokes. he has been assigned, however, to work as a security guard. he's a bit rough around the edges, but i knew that deep down he was a good person. and he knew that i knew that, so we somehow respected each other in that way.

he borrowed a pen early in our session and then put it in his shirt pocket. this amused me for a moment and i said nothing. later on, before he left, i asked him to fill out a form and lent him my pen which he also pocketed without really meaning too. he left without returning them which was probably the funniest grand finale he could have offered me. i wish i could see his face when he realizes that he stole two of our pens! (which is even funnier when you consider his line of work)

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yesterday, on my way to my dad's i saw this girl on the subway platform across from me holding a box of mini-wheats in her arms, pressed against her winter coat. she looked normal and all, quite attrative actually, probably in her mid-twenties... which made you think that she really just felt like having a snack on her way to a late night class and did not bother to pack things neatly in a ziploc-bag.

it reminded me of a friend from psych who would go out, in the middle of winter, in her pj's pants, to get milk at the corner store. ' if you think i'm going to change just because i'm getting milk,' she'd say. i thought that was one of the most charming things, that she felt like a her lounging-around-in-my-pj's -time on saturdays was more important than the social convention of looking 'normal' to the depanneur guy.