I felt so mean yesterday. Chris and I were out for our afternoon walk and he was telling me how he thought the manicure girl at the mall is cute, and I said that if he thinks so, he should go back and talk to her (she accosted him and tried to polish his nails).

He said something about how sheís probably about 22 and since heís almost 40, that might be a bit creepy, and I said, ďYes, thatís creepy, but you donít know for a fact that sheís 22.Ē

He winced when I said, ďyes, thatís creepy.Ē I had no idea it would hurt his feelings, but I couldnít take it back and deny that I thought it was creepy, since I have a brain problem that makes me feel like the whole world is going to fall apart if I am not completely accurate in everything I say and do.

Also, despite that it seemed to hurt him, he immediately tried to cover up his reaction. So, to bring it to attention mightíve been even worse.

Itís not that I think that it would be terrible. Heís still very handsome and looks much younger, so he could get away with having a 22 year old girlfriend. I find it creepy is because heís intentionally selling himself short just because sheís an attractive young girl, rather than finding a more suitable mate. Maybe thatís why everyone finds large age differences creepy?

I wonder how many people choke on water or get water up their nose and find it exciting because it reminds them of diving?

I donít know what to do with myself. Perhaps the best thing for me is just a good workout. A week or so ago, I was hiking on some trails outside of the city, and I came to a place where my trail crossed a footpath, and two guys were jogging by, so I stopped to let them pass. One of them looked at me and said, ďHey!Ē and then I realized it was someone from my karate class (a really, really bizarre coincidence, if you ask me).

He then said to me, ďI didnít know you were a trail runner!Ē

My breathing was perfectly regulated, so if he thinks I was running, he must think Iím in incredible shape, but I said, ďActually, I was just hiking.Ē

I didnít recognize him because Iíd never seen him out of uniform before and holy muscles! No wonder he can jump so high. But, anyway, he put the idea in my head. I could become a trail runner. All I really need is a new ipod, since my second-generation giganti-pod is ten times the size of a shuffle.

Iíve also thought about other practical things like, getting one of those camel-bak things for water and where Iím going to carry my cell and maybe even my pepper spray. I find that excessive gear sucks the fun out of things, though, unless, of course, that gear is made up of beauty products.

Iím only mentioning this because I think the exercise might get me out of this funk. I was sitting here thinking that I donít know what to do with myself to help myself and thatís the best I came up with.

Itís coming up on almost a year ago when I saw him and I felt like the entire universe rushed into my head all at once, and he barely even noticed me. I asked him once if he would have spoken to me if I hadnít spoken to him first. He paused a minute and said, ďI assumed I had spoken to you first.Ē I find that ridiculously funny.

I get frustrated with myself for carrying on like this for so long, but at the same time, I donít understand why I should pressure myself for a time limit. People are always rushing from one thing from the next, especially me, throughout my life, but in the grand scheme of my life, a year is pretty insignificant, five years, even. So, what does it matter?

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Wednesday, Jun. 27, 2007 at 10:55 PM