Fuck

Fuck!

Proprioception

Professor DB looked into my eyes for a long time during class today. She was demonstrating/explaining how the right and left lobe works in facial and name recognition, and she used me for her demo. She stared into my eyes while she spoke...the demo went on for a rather long time. Instead of getting squirmy and weird under her steady light brown-eyed gaze, I felt entirely comfortable. I was like a flower that was basking in the sun, opening it's petals as wide as it can, trying to absorb the sun rays with a wide petalled hug. I really like this teacher, and I was taking that moment to let her know with my eyes. There are so many things we do not say. It is taboo, it is uncool, it's just not said. I have had so much negative experiences with science teachers in the past that I expect them to treat me really badly. But I really like this teacher. She's a revelation. I think I was comfy under teacher's gaze because her gaze was so friendly. An "appreciative glance"is how Dr. Schwyzer would call it. Versus the "penetrating gaze." But this was a steady and appreciative gaze. I felt appreciated. It felt good. I think she was admiring my eye makeup. It was kinda flashy today.

Yeah, right!

"Laura, I'm your therapist. The parameters and limitations are established and ethically defined. I am not an option."
-Paul

In Treatment

I had such a dreamy time yesterday that it's hard to focus on work. Or anything at all. I joined Sholeh and Melvin for swing dancing at the Verdi club yesterday, and it was so fun. I looked like ass, but I think that was good. I wanted to dress up, but Sholeh is a no-frills kinda gal, and I didn't want to upstage her by wearing my geisha layers or embarrass myself for trying too hard. I was also reminded how appearance sets up expectations. If I went there looking all dolled up guys might think I knew how to dance really well. The lesson went well. Melvin learned really fast--so fast that the teacher, this cutie patootie named Tanoa (Hot! Original name!), singled Melvin out. Sholeh wasn't bad either. As soon as the lesson was over the Stompy Jones band started to play, and I looked across the dance floor and saw my old swing dance teacher from years ago. I went over and said hello, and soon we were dancing together. As soon as the guys in the room saw that I knew how to follow I had a bunch of guys asking me to dance back-to-back. Sholeh called me "the belle of the ball"--which was nice. I was looking around, trying to find someone young, cute, a good dancer...but the only hottie was the teacher who is obviously too good for normal folk. Of course that meant I had to ask him to dance with me because I knew I would feel unsatisfied until I had danced with a good lead who was also gorgeous. Our first dance was a slow one, but the second was faster. I only expected him to dance with me once, so I was grateful for the second dance. We lindy hopped for the second dance, and I was so happy! He is tall, and so his breath would land somewhere on my face, and it was so nice...nice breath, cute guy, great bod...drooool. At one point we were going so fast that my face would bump across his chest/shoulder, and I had this urge to bite on his shoulder. Hotties make you want to bite them. When it was over he looked at me and (reluctantly it seemed) told me I was "good." YAY! The weird look on his face tells me I have so much more to learn. I felt like his face said I was fairly tolerable at dancing. Kind of confusing. I guess good is better than bad. *sigh* It sucks that I'm always sorta...midrange in dancing skills. I'm like a master at basics in salsa and swing...but never good enough to feel magical or fully graceful on a dance floor. Before, the only dance I felt any connection with was salsa and east coast swing, but now I can say I can decently do the basic lindy hop. I hope one day I can get good enough not to feel embarrassed. Gosh that guy was cute! He was helping Melvin and Sholeh with the basics, and I stood by my friends grinning like an idiot, staring at Tanoa like he was a piece of meat. Which he is. *droooool*

A's for Everybody

I am suffering from a premature case of Hero Worship. Hero and Heroine Worship! Melvin and Shaleh are two cool cats from my anatomy class that make me drool with how nice and good-natured they are. They are eons smarter than everyone else, bizarrely humble and aw-shucks about it, and FUNNY AS HELL. Compared to the cutthroat bitches and freaks that you usually find in an impacted competitive pre-nursing class, these two shine brighter than the sun. Too bad they aren't nursing majors. It would be heaven to have them with me on this journey. They might be taking physio though. We are supposed to hang out tomorrow. I hope I don't drool and embarrass myself more than usual!

Guapissimo

Below is a quote from E Online. It basically confirms why Gilles Marini is my husband. Sis and I are Gilles Marini-crazy. I go through different phases in types of attraction to people. There was my ex and his dirty blonde hair. But when I look at Gilles, who cares about blondes? Give me that French Greek Italian Sex God any day.

"As if his dashing good looks and smooth dance moves weren't enough, Dancing With the Stars' hunky frontrunner Gilles Marini just gave us one more reason to adore him.

E! News caught up with the star backstage after tonight's elimination show and asked for his two cents on how Cheryl Burke's weight had been a topic of discussion in the press and on the fan boards.

Read on to find out what Gilles' fantastic response is...

"If women look like her," Gilles tells us, "that would be the perfect world. She doesn't need to change anything. Who likes stick-skinny girls? Where's the flavor? Whoever likes those stick-skinny girls never had sex before in their life."

Bravo, Gilles. Bravo."

Dios Mio, Man

We have a murderous practical and written exam coming up, and everyone is freaking out. I am terrified of the coming tests. And here I had fantasies of taking both Physio and Micro in the Fall. Yeah fucking right. If I can barely handle one mega science class, what makes me think I could handle two? Creepy stalker guy was at it again. He sits near me in lecture, and would turn and shyly smile at me when anyone said anything funny in class. I could tell he wanted me to laugh and smile and look back at him, and just knowing that makes me my face stern and serious and angry-looking. After his creepy email cards filled with love poetry I had told him I wasn't interested in him at all (I gave him my email when I thought he was normal, but classmates later told me that he stares at me all through class). I said I just want to do well in school. No romance. None. He responded by saying he was glad I was honest with him, that he could tell someone hurt me badly in the past, and that he likes talking to me in class. Gag. Sure, someone did hurt me, but my lack of interest in him does not reflect a wounded heart. My disinterest reflects standards in men! He still hovers around from time to time. I feel his icky eyes on me, watching my face, keeping track of my position in the room. When we moved to the lab he was making a show of "taking pictures" of some bones in my direction. I had this feeling he was just trying to take a pic of me so I turned my back towards him. He then called my attention for no reason at all, just saying he was taking pics of some bones near me. I think he thought I would hold them so he could take a pic of me holding the bones, but I said, "Let me get out of your way," and got the hell out of his picture view. They say you have to be cruel to be kind. I have been nothing but ice cold to this guy. I have kept it civil because I have some compassion for pathetic fools who are in love with someone they can't have (Been there, done that! Thanks, K!), but his weirdness has brought it to a whole new level. I wonder if it would come off like bragging if I told some of my new study group buddies. I am a little afraid of him. I want them to keep an eye out for me. I carry my pepper spray around visibly whenever I am on campus. I've never considered myself a magnet for sexy desirable men (who does, really?) but at least in middle school and high school the dudes who fancied me who I didn't like back were normal. They were undesirable because they were awkward and shy or too nerdy or reaked of hormones and lusty yucky pubertal-boy-cootiness. They were normal. Some of them were actually damn cute...just not "mature enough for me" or "smart" (Gag. I can hear my high school self now. At this point, I don't care. Good looking, sweet, and dumb as rocks sounds fun right now. I'd be like: "Shhhh! Shut it! I'm not dating you for your mind, hot stuff..."). At least back in high school there was a high chance that the dude who liked you was normal. Or if he was a perv, probably not all that sexually experienced enough to be too aggressive (well. I avoided those guys like the plague). And old men knew to leave you alone. At least there were laws against it. Now that I've been legal (translation = old gross men think they can fuck me now. Aughhhh!) for a while now I feel like I have no protection against unwanted attention. Yucky men look me up and down with no shame, old or creepy-looking men actually approach me unashamedly, pursuing romance. I wish I could tell them, "Just look at you! You're an old ass fucker! Go get yourself someone your own age! What do you want to do--ruin my gene pool?"