Today, I learned an interesting fact. Actually, I'm not sure if it's fact or not, but if it is, then it's interesting. Matt says there's a Long Beach in every state of the US. Elaina and I don't believe him. I mean, come on -- Long Beach, South Dakota? It just doesn't compute, folks. So I pretend to be fascinated and impressed, but inwardly, I'm skeptical. Google'ing it didn't help much either. Google.com thinks there's only one Long Beach, and it's in California.
skep·ti·cism 1 : an attitude of doubt or a disposition to incredulity either in general or toward a particular object
In other news! (Tonight was a fantastically good night, considering it was a Monday. o lunes.) I froze my toes for one fantastic view: coming in from sailing, watching the mist rising off the placid lake. Yes, placid. As in NO WIND. Ahh, kinetics, how I hate putting you into use. After, Jessica and I made the trek into downtown Bellingham to the Fantasia Cafe for Poetry Night! I stuck around for an hour and a half -- fantastic poetry, amazing readers, and the community feeling of everyone there was overwhelming. The regulars heckled and laughed and put everyone into an accepting, open-minded state. I almost cried at one point, though. Here is where I tell you about my self-loathing. Before the poetry reading started, I sat nursing my peppermint mocha and observing the people. As always, I immediately spotted the grossly overweight guy. He was balding, pastey, and overflowing all corners of his chair. I see a lot of people like this at the pool (especially during water aerobics), and I've developed this terrible habit of imagining them in bathing suits. My imagination goes overboard with the folds of flesh and (trust me, it's almost universal) ugly birth marks or skin discolorations. ... Really, have I offended enough people yet? Obese people are fascinating to me, in a disgusting and degrading way. Anyway, after I mentally ostracized this guy, he got up and read a "very personal poem that's hard for [him] to share". The gist of it was how no one has ever found him attractive, how he has found intellectual partners and friends, but no one who will love him physically. And how he's wondering if he'll ever find intimacy before he dies. I felt so guilty, as if I personally was responsible for all the pain and humiliation he'd ever been through. And there was nothing I could do. I still found him repulsive. But on top of that, I felt a sharp stab of guilt because I knew, 100%, that this was a real person with real feelings who probably feels worse than I ever have on a regular basis. And I still wouldn't be able to talk to him without seeing his obesity first.
Anyway. It's 1:30 am right now, RJ called right in the middle of that post and I had so much more to say... I just can't anymore. I'm tired. I want to sleep before I get up and shower before class tomorrow (which I haven't studied for or done the homework. Yay!)