Cambridge: It’s not the first time that a slumbering giant crept up and bit me– sleeping, luxurious, nasty.
Graduation day I wore ivory with the perfect shoes. Another graduate looked over to me angrily as we processed in to the All School Ceremony (words of Meredith Vieira + Mary Oliver gets silent Honorary Degree) from beneath a polyester widow’s peak: You’re Not Even Wearing the Hat? A very gowned group, the 1500 that left with me.
Texts from my audience— the A-dubbed “pack of queers” + sis surprise:
“Did [Meredith] really just say schizoid?”
and also of note,
“Sister loves you”
For some (obvious?) reason one of the most successful women in tele-journalism used her speech to tell us all about how the best decision in her life was when she ceded to her guilty feelings about deserting her family for her career and “went home.”
Later we were walking around and sister pointed out that she was Sick of Everyone Staring at Us. Low/Behold everyone WAS. All those queer couples and one exceptionally pregnant with imminent Leo-Queer.
Another dream: I was going to marry one of my male friends. It wasn’t clear why– just that we would never have sex, he would still be in a relationship with his girlfriend, it was going to happen. Someone from my past came up to me and she told me it was a bad idea. Everyone did. I didn’t want to and there was no reason to marry him. It’s just that I had already agreed and everything had been arranged and the wedding would be the next day. Marrying him was impossible but I couldn’t stop it. Or marrying him was impossible so I couldn’t stop it. I can’t tell which. The person in my past said she could stop it all if I wanted to but refused to kiss me.
I brought it to my shrink. Delicately and then in rage and tears hoping she could tell me more about why I am invested in the fights I’m invested in.
“You left your keys in Providence? Who is this man?”
I moved forward to take a bite and slipped again and cried on her mat. I’m Glad You’re Going to Be Here Next Year. With her. With me. I told her.