Islands in the Sea

That is what we are...

Okay, wrong song.

Darcie_P probably hates me. We went to this "Islands in the Stream" collaboration event between HU's and GWU's CSAs (Caribbean Student's Organisations). It was supposed to be a dinner with live music and dancing. That's what the Facebook invie said. Firstly, I didn't know it was a Christmas dinner...or I wouldn't have gone. Secondly, even though it was, the parang made me feel warm and fuzzy feelings of home, regardless of how pagan it was (...what?). Anyway, apparently Basement Knokers was the entertainment provider, and they were hosting the 'after-party' as well as the 'party'. I didn't know there was an after-party.

Instead of staying, we went to get drinks (which was something impossible to do on the GWU campus) and I proceeded to get tipsy. Lamiepooh is really nice, even though she is the shallowest person on planet earth, as I've recently discovered. But...She has a kind heart, which is more than I can say for myself. I hope I'm my own worst critic. Anyway, I got home, and she went with me (after she got ready for bed) to get food, cause I was starving on account of my tipsyness. That's not why I think she's nice though, there are more, less selfish, reasons.

Anyway, this was supposed to be an apology to P, since she thought it would be something nice, and I'm sure it ended up being something that she hated. I'm sorry for real.

I got to go...eyes closing. I hope I can wake up when Rasta calls me...he hasn't yet. He told me to call him when I got back...which I did. I don't think he could tell that I was tipsy.

I am not stupid.

I know you better than you think.

So I will agree that I may have let my hunches run away with me before, but more often than not I am RIGHT about my 'feelings'. Whether it be clairvoyance or not, it's generally right. Anyone who knows me knows that. So when certain behaviours repeat themselves...don't expect me to draw any different conclusion. Especially since I was the one who caused those same behaviours a couple months ago.

I have become accustomed to a certain routine, and for some reason over the past week or so, things have become realigned in a completely different direction. Maybe this decision to take a chill pill wasn't the best one...I don't know. The point is, I'm worried about what's happening. I got absolutely NO sleep last night, and that has never happened to me before...even under the worst circumstances.

I need some reassurance. And I'm too worried it's true to ask about it. It had better not be, or you can all start calling me Lorena.

Les Halles

"I don't wanna wait, for our lives to be over.
I want to know right now, what will it be?"
~ Paula Cole, Dawson's Creek Soundtrack

I feel like Jennifer Aniston, when she was with Brad. Last night Rasta and I took Nanner out to dinner in thanks for loaning us her room, twice. She's a doll. Anyway, Rasta was in town for some boring-ass engineering something, that I would've paid more attention to if I didn't know that that meant he was coming to DC. I didn't care why really, just that he was coming. He's my new escapist drug. Not that I ever had an old one. I got all dressed up and cute, and we got there a little late...only to find out that the reservation was for two, and Rasta wasn't joining us. I had a huge pout on the inside for most of dinner.

The place was cute, though. Nanner insisted on sitting outside, even though she still had a touch of the flu and ended up having to wear my coat all night. It turned out fine, though: I have considerably more insulation than she does. Tried to make the most of dinner and to be a good conversationalist, even though I paused to notice every taxi that stopped in front of the restaurant. I knew he was coming, I just wanted him to come soon so that we could have more time together. My thoughts were distracted, however, when a couple of caucasian males got up and left..which was fine, except for the fact that the garçon was running after them. One of the men, both obviously drunk, turned around and started cursing him out for taking too long to bring the bill (or the check, as they say here). It's so hilariously funny when button-down businessmen get drunk and start acting like idiots. When that drama was over, the same garçon came up to us and announced that Rasta called, and was paying for our dinner. That was the moment I felt like Jen. I don't feel like explaining why. Go read some old tabloids to find out...they're more interesting than this anyway.

Finalmente, I heard a taxi stop in a spot that I couldn't see and out of the darkness appeared my Rasta, looking sexy as hell, as usual. That moment couldn't have been better if it were written and directed by the makers of Dawson's Creek. We sat and talked for a bit. He and Nanner harassed each other to no end, as usual. Then we walked around downtown DC for a bit looking for an ATM. It was gay, but at least I got to see him, and hold his hand. He put us in a taxi back to the towers, and jumped in one himself, back to Virginia.

Oh, if you're ever on Pennsylvania Ave, go check out Les Halles, it's pretty good.