I received this beautiful comment on post 277:
Anonymous said...
Oh, this is lovely. I've been reading your journal for a while (even back in the "boy with glasses" days--how wonderfully fall that feels! if that makes sense to you), and it so often makes me smile. I, too, am a fan of those sweet small moments. Please don't delete your journal after you're done! I'm sad to see you go, already (can you be convince otherwise?), and not having any of this to look back on would be so sad.
dimanche, septembre 24, 2006 9:32:51 PM
And this one a while back:
Het said...
OH Elaine. This makes me so sad. I understand your reasons - but I will miss hearing about your life. I will miss reading about your interactions with people in your life. I will miss watching you continue to blossom.
I will miss you.
samedi, août 19, 2006 8:38:43 PM
Thank you. Wow, two people, not including me, care about this blog. You and Het have taken the time to comment and that means so much to me. It's a beautiful gift, if clicking on a link can be compared to unwrapping a present. "the boy with glasses" days seem so long ago. has it really been two years?
I've made a decision. And I'm going to tell you a secret--just for you, dear faithful readers:
I won't delete this blog. I'll let it linger through the interwebs. Maybe some lucky person will find it, read it, be inspired by life, love, and all that is good.
Here's the secret: I'm moving on from "till human voices wake us", and instead, I'll be writing in a new blog, one that I've already started and kept secret from you. It's still a Blogger blog, but I got a new domain name, a different username, and I'm no longer "Prufrock". That blog will be revealed in my last post here. I'm closing the chapter "till human voices wake us" and starting a new one. "till human voices wake us" has shown how much can happen in two years--change, growth, and so many other beautiful things. It's only natural to move on and start somewhere fresh and new, like a new piece of paper.
All three reasons for leaving (seen in Aug. 18. 2006 post) still apply but with different meanings:
1. It's time. Because it really is time to leave "till human voices wake us".
2. Let go. Because I do have to let go of this blog by not writing in it anymore and letting it stand on its own. This is the first chapter written--the second one is on its way.
3. Love. Because I love you, and I would hate to leave you like this by deleting everything about me. I want you to remember me. How can you remember me if I delete this blog? I also want you to love others still like I stated before.
So, faithful reader, stick around for there is no end in sight. And for new readers, I hope you will join me for this wonderful journey.
With all the love in the universe,
Elaine
dimanche, septembre 24, 2006
dimanche, septembre 17, 2006
post 277: a good day at work
I got a job at the dorms at school if you don't already know. I'm the front desk person, almost like a receptionist. Students call me if they have problems in their rooms, I process packages, and I answer the phone.
There's a guy who is the assistant resident director for the whole building named Jason. He's a student too. Sometimes he hangs around during my shifts either working or studying in the office where I am. He sits at the desk behind me. Lately, he's been there a lot and always asks me when I'm working. When I tell him when, he says, "Oh, cool, I might be in here studying."
The paranoid pessimist in me thinks that he's just there to make sure that I'm doing my job right. That he's just there to keep tabs on me. But I don't know...he talks to me a lot, when I'm not doing anything and just minding the desk.
Yesterday, he was at the desk behind me studying. He asked me something about my pics on MySpace (I added him the night before when he gave me his MySpace address). I turned around to see that he had my MySpace up on the computer. We started talking about MySpace, our families, and other things. He asked, "Are you shy? Because I get this shy vibe..." I think I laughed, blushed, and tried to recover quickly. I said, "Yeah, but I'm trying..." I couldn't finish my sentence. I'm trying not to be so shy, I wanted to say. An RA walked in, and our conversation ended. I went back to studying, and so did he.
After a bit, he asked me if I wanted some Puffins--a cereal. I said sure. He left the office, came back with 2 carton pints of milk from the vending machine, went to his room (which is by his office), and came back with bowls, spoons, and two kinds of cereal: Puffins and Lego waffles. He handed me one of the boxes of milk.
"You bought the milk?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"That's so nice..." I remarked while holding the carton of milk in my hand. There's something so sweet about that little gesture that made me weak and my heart flutter. He bought me a carton of milk. The simple things are the key to my heart.
We sat in our office chairs eating cereal, watching freshmen come in and out of the building. We sat in silence, which was lovely. I love not having to speak when I don't need to. He had a second bowl of cereal, and I drank out of the carton of milk. Then he got a call on his cell--all the directors and RAs have cells for their work. There was a problem on the 6th floor, so he had to go resolve it.
My shift was almost over, so I said, "Thanks for the cereal. I might not see you before you get back--my shift's almost over." He said, while finishing up his cereal, "Hopefully, I'll be back before you leave."
I waited two minutes after my shift, and then I started getting read to leave. I wrote a note on scratch paper: "Jason, Thanks for the cereal! It was nice talking to you. Elaine". I left it on his textbook. While I was gathering stuff, he walks in and goes, "AAH!" pretending to be scared. I said, "Bye" and he said, "Be safe". I didn't mention anything about the note. I like surprising people with notes.
What a beautiful day at work. I probably shouldn't get my hopes up or anything. I mean, we're just friends. But these little things--the cereal, the milk, the comment about me being shy, the questions we ask each other to get to know each other better. They make me happy.
There's a guy who is the assistant resident director for the whole building named Jason. He's a student too. Sometimes he hangs around during my shifts either working or studying in the office where I am. He sits at the desk behind me. Lately, he's been there a lot and always asks me when I'm working. When I tell him when, he says, "Oh, cool, I might be in here studying."
The paranoid pessimist in me thinks that he's just there to make sure that I'm doing my job right. That he's just there to keep tabs on me. But I don't know...he talks to me a lot, when I'm not doing anything and just minding the desk.
Yesterday, he was at the desk behind me studying. He asked me something about my pics on MySpace (I added him the night before when he gave me his MySpace address). I turned around to see that he had my MySpace up on the computer. We started talking about MySpace, our families, and other things. He asked, "Are you shy? Because I get this shy vibe..." I think I laughed, blushed, and tried to recover quickly. I said, "Yeah, but I'm trying..." I couldn't finish my sentence. I'm trying not to be so shy, I wanted to say. An RA walked in, and our conversation ended. I went back to studying, and so did he.
After a bit, he asked me if I wanted some Puffins--a cereal. I said sure. He left the office, came back with 2 carton pints of milk from the vending machine, went to his room (which is by his office), and came back with bowls, spoons, and two kinds of cereal: Puffins and Lego waffles. He handed me one of the boxes of milk.
"You bought the milk?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"That's so nice..." I remarked while holding the carton of milk in my hand. There's something so sweet about that little gesture that made me weak and my heart flutter. He bought me a carton of milk. The simple things are the key to my heart.
We sat in our office chairs eating cereal, watching freshmen come in and out of the building. We sat in silence, which was lovely. I love not having to speak when I don't need to. He had a second bowl of cereal, and I drank out of the carton of milk. Then he got a call on his cell--all the directors and RAs have cells for their work. There was a problem on the 6th floor, so he had to go resolve it.
My shift was almost over, so I said, "Thanks for the cereal. I might not see you before you get back--my shift's almost over." He said, while finishing up his cereal, "Hopefully, I'll be back before you leave."
I waited two minutes after my shift, and then I started getting read to leave. I wrote a note on scratch paper: "Jason, Thanks for the cereal! It was nice talking to you. Elaine". I left it on his textbook. While I was gathering stuff, he walks in and goes, "AAH!" pretending to be scared. I said, "Bye" and he said, "Be safe". I didn't mention anything about the note. I like surprising people with notes.
What a beautiful day at work. I probably shouldn't get my hopes up or anything. I mean, we're just friends. But these little things--the cereal, the milk, the comment about me being shy, the questions we ask each other to get to know each other better. They make me happy.
jeudi, septembre 07, 2006
post 276: a gift
Another Slate post. I mean, why not?
L. and I were discussing him the other day. How he is the fad, the face of Tiger Beat, because all the cinema girls love him or are attracted to him. We, L. and I, don't want to be attracted to him, but I can't help but feel that quasi-gravitational pull towards him and the schoolgirl shyness take over. L. is stronger than me and has a good platonic feel for him.
Went to the club's office before Film History to hang out. He was there, along with others. He said hi. That recognition makes me special. I sat on the couch and ate a string cheese while he and Brian tried to pry open a locked file cabinet. He asked me to come over, that he "needed Elaine's brain". I obeyed and surveyed the cabinet, but they got it open without my help.
L. came, and we went to Film History together along with Slate. He sat next to me. He made funny comments under his breath about the professor that only L. and I could hear. We stifled our laughter. He asked me for a piece of paper which he later used for drawing a caricature of said professor. Again, laughter ensued. I told him that that paper should be for real notes. He sadly turned the paper over and wrote: "REAL" NOTES on the top along with a sad face. Then he drew a sad face on my notes. When the prof asked who the French major was (I had written it in the survey that she asked us to fill out), and I had raised my hand, he turned and asked me if I was really a French major. By his whisper, I was not able to tell if he was impressed or intrigued, but I want to believe that it was both.
These little things make me smile. The drawings, the laughter. Even when a boy says my name, I can't help but feel a flutter of happiness echoing through my heart and body. It's like a gift from my parents at birth that keeps renewing itself with every person who is acquainted with me.
He didn't get to add the class, and so I won't be seeing him a lot this semestre, but that's okay with me. I shouldn't and don't want to get too attached.
L. and I were discussing him the other day. How he is the fad, the face of Tiger Beat, because all the cinema girls love him or are attracted to him. We, L. and I, don't want to be attracted to him, but I can't help but feel that quasi-gravitational pull towards him and the schoolgirl shyness take over. L. is stronger than me and has a good platonic feel for him.
Went to the club's office before Film History to hang out. He was there, along with others. He said hi. That recognition makes me special. I sat on the couch and ate a string cheese while he and Brian tried to pry open a locked file cabinet. He asked me to come over, that he "needed Elaine's brain". I obeyed and surveyed the cabinet, but they got it open without my help.
L. came, and we went to Film History together along with Slate. He sat next to me. He made funny comments under his breath about the professor that only L. and I could hear. We stifled our laughter. He asked me for a piece of paper which he later used for drawing a caricature of said professor. Again, laughter ensued. I told him that that paper should be for real notes. He sadly turned the paper over and wrote: "REAL" NOTES on the top along with a sad face. Then he drew a sad face on my notes. When the prof asked who the French major was (I had written it in the survey that she asked us to fill out), and I had raised my hand, he turned and asked me if I was really a French major. By his whisper, I was not able to tell if he was impressed or intrigued, but I want to believe that it was both.
These little things make me smile. The drawings, the laughter. Even when a boy says my name, I can't help but feel a flutter of happiness echoing through my heart and body. It's like a gift from my parents at birth that keeps renewing itself with every person who is acquainted with me.
He didn't get to add the class, and so I won't be seeing him a lot this semestre, but that's okay with me. I shouldn't and don't want to get too attached.
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