Wednesday, January 18, 2006
The clock in my laptop shows 11.13 am
After four months I continue to abstain from making the significant change
To Dublin time
Its beyond three am now
I am sitting cross legged on the bed
Hunched severely
Cindy lauper’s girls just wanna have fun ringing in my head.
My flat, somewhat insufficient pillow on my lap
And my right side tingly and slightly burning from the warmth of the fan heater.
I got back from aka a half hour ago
As much as I find that I do not find clubbing extraordinarily interesting
I had fun today
We din abide by the 80’s theme,
But I did wear a stripey top
And beady necklaces
It was a medsoc shindig
So a whole load of potential doctors were there to grace the evening
And it rawked
The dancefloor was full to the maksimum
Imagine a dancefloor with standing space only
One is left shuffling uncomfortably.
Lols.
They played some really good songs.
Thriller.
Final countdown.
GJWHF.
And of course, they played even more crappy songs.
What is it about tonight that’s so different?
Maybe because everyone here possibly shares a similarity with me.
Maybe because I danced with a total stranger. A third med. In a Hawaiian shirt and blonde 80’s wig. Who asked me my name. *blushes*
Maybe because three of my groupmates were present: lucia, padraig, n conal.
All looked absolutely fah-bulous.
And quite surprised to see me thr
Maybe because I found a styloh cap on the floor, early on when the place was empty.
Finders keepers.
Maybe because of you. Yeah, you.
It was innocent. Both right and wrong.
It was the dancing. The talking. The arms around waist. The sitting together.
The sly holding of hands while in the cab.
Obvious, yet not. I felt both betraying and exuberant.
Merely for breaking the rules. The margins. The unsaid limits.
In the end its just you. And me. A night out clubbing is a fine excuse for anything, kan?
So tak patut. It’s the very insanity im so up against.
But I am 20. and having a friend like alia helps me realize that in life, many unusual things could be done.
All in the name of life.
Of growing up.
Of whoop-do-dee-dos.
And whoop-do-da-dees.
At the end of the day
The black mark on my hand is still there
The marker’s ink smudged slightly from when I washed my hands at the ladies
The blackness bleeding into the fine meshlike grooves of dead epithelials.
Shaped like a t, sideways.
Like an irregular-shaped mole from far
My eyeliner still on
My head a lil throbbing
Im smirking, not smiling
And I am here
Today, not tomorrow.
Tomorrow, not yesterday.
Now, not now.
<3 <3 <3
20:38
