Feeling: Reserved
Listening to: Dixie Chicks - Godspeed
Reading/Watching: The Religious Sense - Luigi Giussani

It is odd. You know how most of the time I can never shut up? When I didn't have a voice, I nearly went insane, with all the words that were boiling inside me.

But now, I have very little desire to speak. It's been three or four days now, and sometimes I rattle away as usual, and other times I'm sitting in a room with people I know and thinking, "I should probably say something." But then I realize, anything I would say would be idiotic smalltalk, because there is truly nothing remarkable happening in my life right now.

Things are the same. Friends are friends, school is school, and even though usually I can find something to comment on, for the most part I'm silent.

If I haven't spoken to you in a while, it's not because I'm upset with you; I just have nothing to say to you. Possibly because you already know it all, or maybe I don't think you'd care to know, or whatever. There's only one person with whom I'm consciously silent, and I doubt he notices anyway.

When I remarked on it, saying, "I've become really boring. I have nothing to talk about," Liz* agreed, saying "Yeah, I know, you've been really quiet lately." So it's not just me, noticing.

Not two hours later, sitting at dinner with the Curly Girls club (two of the freshmen who went with me to NATS), I was chattering like a magpie and laughing until my face hurt. Go figure.

Let me ask y'all, though; is it utterly backward to say I'm starting to get a crush on my boyfriend?

Things began so oddly for us, what with me needing someone desperately in the void Harry left, and wanting someone entirely different than Quincy, and yet there he was. I wasted too much time wishing for something (I should say someone) that I realize now wouldn't have been good even if I'd had him, and now that it's passed, I suddenly really, really want what I already have. I think I needed to storm and rage and throw a temper tantrum to flush out the very last of whatever neuroses was festering under the surface. Whatever it was that made me want the wrong person, I seem to have outsmarted myself.

Bri just said that's how arranged marriages work: you fall in love after the fact. (let me take a moment to shake off the weirdness of hearing the word marriage in application to myself) So after being with Quincy for nearly two months, I'm finally to the point that when someone asks about him, I take that half-second to smile beatifically before answering. Last semester, I always calmly answered, "He's fine." Now, I can't keep the corners of my mouth down.

It's lovely, by the way. Falling for a guy who has a girlfriend, and realizing the girlfriend is you.

(*= I have decided to start calling the Trevino twins Liz and Jessica, as in Wakefield. Sweet Valley Twins? Yeah. I'll leave it to y'all to guess which is which.)

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