My boobs had a field day. The girls did not want to sit still. I think I had fun, but I'm not really sure. I whirled like mad, I jumped off the stage a lot, I swirled and loved dancing by myself. I talked to a boy, danced with him (and another, though only briefly) and decided he was fabulous. Oh, he was - he was adorably earnest and a cute dancer and I wanted to eat him up. He was from Madison and his name was Steve. Then he left to go back to his room and I stayed where I was.

I don't know how to take this, but I think I'll just go to bed and see how I feel in the morning (Hungover, I bet). I'm tired. Did he want me to follow him, or go for a walk, or chat things up some more? Or did he want to ditch me like a disposable friend. Did he not like me? Find me too scary or forward?

I don't think I flashed many people. My hair looked romantically tousled for most of the evening. I guess it was successful, in that regard. I left early and sat in a meeting hall, trying to feel warm and trying to see if I felt sad. Mostly I just felt a sort of nothing.

I'm glad I got to dance with that guy, even if I never see him again. I twirled and twirled, and said "All I really want to do is twirl." It was fine by him. He was fabulous. I do feel like I've used up all my courage reserves and am just going to have to shrink into my nice, comfortable shell of an all-women's-school for the next two years. I'm sad, though, cause I feel like I didn't charm him very well. I scare 'em all off.

On the ride over, we talked about our family sagas. We talked about the crazy relatives, and how we felt like we walked right out of the movies. There's some magic realism going on - a woman sold her children for pretty things, a man watched his fish leap out of their pond during a flood and then he went crazy. We have whole novels at our disposal.

I have a beautiful grandfather and a beautiful grandmother who never should have gotten married, when you get right down to it. Oh, they look so glamorous, like movie stars. My grandma was gorgeous, with a mooney face like mine. My grandfather was dapper. When he was older, his hair turned a brilliant white color, and he looked like Gandalf. He was so brilliant, they tell me. My grandma was so intense, they tell me. Now he's dead, and she's mad.

2002-11-24, My evening

before / after

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