The Dangerous Twist

I'll tell you about my day.

Class #1, Cultural Anthropology with Professor Eleanor Cross Harrison. The woman is filled with a kind of quiet passion, the kind you see exuding from dusty antique marvels in an attic. Much of the time though, she is rather incoherent and prone to babbling. It makes me feel kind of sad and guilty for being impatient with her, but there it is. She was saying something about kinship and marriage and incest taboos and exogamy and endogamy, ordinarily very fascinating topics, but man. She might have been recounting her last garage sale haul.

Class#2. Macroeconomics with the professor that could compete with an air horn. Impossible to not pay attention, which I guess is a good thing, and I have some tenuous grip on GDP, etc.

note: am loving how my classes kind of mesh together in a FACT sort of matter. Application of knowledge, et al. In geography, we'll be talking about GDP per capita in Brazil and how increased industrialization in South America is infringing on the lifestyles of the indigenous peoples, and then in cultural anthropology we'll be talking about the indigenous peoples, and so on! Fantasmic.

So at this point, it's after Class #2 and I decide to call Emmanuel's workplace to get a hold of him, because my heart is beating so and I started to cry in Class #2. Waited on the phone for ten minutes only to be told that he didn't pick up the the phone and had left. The slightly exasperated man on the phone tells me he might be back.

I proceed to panic.

I skipped my last class and drove to pick up my paycheck (measly 80 bucks, btw), then rushed to Riverside to Emmanuel's workplace. One of the employees tells me he hasn't come back, sorry ma'am, had been gone for an hour. He asked if I was related to Emmanuel. I said I was his girlfriend.

So I drove to RCC, in vain hope of maybe finding him. I walked through the library where he sometimes goes to do his homework, couldn't find him. At this point, I am a mess. I'm crying, I'm thinking mad thoughts. I cross the street three times thinking I should go back and search more thoroughly. I stop and realize that I'm acting a little bit crazy.

Okay, a lot crazy.

I mean, what kind of crazy girlfriend plot was I brewing? Was I thinking with my breasts or what?

I mean, the asshole slighted me. And here I am sniveling to make amends. Amends for WHAT?

I just. I get so angry. I get so despereately sad. I am. I don't know.

Drove home crying, half passing out from fatigue and crumpled up soggy notepad eyes. Went to the Verizon store to file a claim on my "dropped" phone.

I realized this morning I had thrown it so hard it had struck my digital camera and popped the batteries out of it.

So I came home, ate something cuz I was passing out, and then proceeded to pass out. Slept and cried in turns for about three hours. Talked to nice claims lady on the phone. Getting replacement on Friday.

Proceeded to transfer the photos and videos of Emmanuel and me onto my computer via email.

I love him.

Typing that seemed hard. I hate him sounds easier but more painful. I'm in such a flurry of emotion I can't compose myself.

I want to call a million times in a row.

I want to punch him in the face.

I want to fuck him.

I want to scream, and scream, and carve out an empty space, a bony alcove in my ribcage, and go to sleep there forever.