When you live the life of a hermit, communication skills generally become rather rudimentary. Mine usually ride the range of technology. I feel safe in the world of black and white blinking cursors. There, things are black and white. What I write is what I mean. If there is a suggestion of something deeper, it can be uncovered in the permanent pages. Face to face conversations, and (god forbid!) phone calls, make my life a living hell. Suddenly body language can tell a story that contrasts tone of voice. You can lose yourself not only in the juxtaposition of contradictions, but you may also lose the tried and true signs of attraction—signs which I recently sleuthed the Internet for. (A bit ridiculous? I was desperate. And I flirt like a broken faucet.)
I should have a button that says, “Don’t talk to me. I’m Awkward.” Someone better watch out.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Season 4 xviii: The End is Near

Setting: Geneva Terrace, Logan High School, Parking Lot, English Office

There is only one day left. I have been holding on to that. Dexter has remained unwatched, a hostage in this whole messy situation. I will return him when I am ready. Unharmed, of course. He was an innocent bystander in the whole situation.

Overall, today didn't go much better than the rest. I practiced my avoidance strategies, but didn't have to work very hard since Michelle was there. I did have to crank up a little Biffy Clyro to cover their discussion about his insecurities in his relationship with her. I couldn't muster even a little sympathy. I have my own confusions to sort out.

He wouldn't let my efforts reign effective though. He tried to draw me into conversation as often as possible. "Alysha...." (I think he said my name more today than he had in total over the last month.) I really wasn't listening to his conversation, and he had to repeat himself every time he tried to get me to chat. He doesn't take a hint well; he kept trying to joke me out of my music solitude. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was all warm and fuzzy with Michelle and wouldn't even offer him a little eye contact.

Then I tacked on a final denial by shaking my head and rejecting his high five. That's right Mr. IV, I won't be your work flirt.

On the way out of the building, Beth stopped me. She had one simple reminder: "You don't have to wear them tomorrow, but don't forget your 'Come Fuck Me' heels." Stellar.

This is my life.
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