Miles to Go
Firstly, contra used to give me problems, because there is a definite preference for one direction of rotation. Probably as a holdover from my OCD, this seems to manifest physically (mostly in my vision imbalance). I was able to correct this today by spinning the opposite direction at any opportunity, but it is interesting to note how strongly this still affects me. Sometimes I wonder how much of my lack of visual capacity is psychological.

Jealousy, wrath, an inability to let go. Things that I can sometimes load as fuel, sometimes overcome. I used to have so much trouble with this, but it's getting better.

Debauchery, lechery, celebration. It was interesting for a while, but by 1:00AM, the party turned into an ugly, smelly guilt trip.

Contra dancing was different. More skill, less knowledge. More social, less intimate. No sex, no guilt.

So is Bryn Mawr. Maybe it's the best of both worlds, but it's still quite possible to have a lame-ass night - just not at birthdays, apparently.

Sometimes I think that I lack the tenacity to carry things through, and this is what screws me.

Coming back from Sager, I contemplated my situation. I can't make up my mind, and I wonder if that makes me a bad lover.

In a way, it's almost comforting that I have such a long journey ahead of me. It is a big maybe, a maybe of greatness. I worry, though, that in my efforts to keep the big maybe alive, I am holding myself back from ever achieving. And every day that I hold back, I miss another set of opportunities.

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