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Saturday, Jul. 17, 2004 - 12:17 a.m. PALEOLITHIC ART It has been over a month since my last entry, and I suppose a few interesting things have happened to me since then. For some reason though, over the past month, I found myself not wanting to update my diary. I simply had no motivation to write about everything happening to me. In fact, I could not tell when the next update would be until I recognized something when I sat in front of my computer tonight--the true motivation for my writing. I feel compelled to write when I feel alone. I suddenly become overwhelmed with the feeling that my life has no meaning to anyone and that I for all general purposes had I never have been born the world would never have cared. The mere scribbling of this diary is somewhat similar to the marks left by a caveman thousands of years ago in some remote canyon. Who knows who that caveman was? Who cares? Either way, I suppose I will recapitulate the events that have unfolded over the past month or so. Maybe a disinterested anthropologist will discover my writing in another thousand years. As the LSU Tiger baseball season winded down, I went to a few ball games with that old man from the cruise. We became good buddies. Before the LSU football spring practice he invited me over to his house where his wife barbequed and I once again saw his teenage son that I had also met on the cruise. In fact, we had plans to go to the College World Series together had LSU made it there. But even though baseball season ended, we would still get together for a beer after work about once a week. He seemed like a nice old family man who was kind of adopting me as his second son. One thing the old man and I had in common was a passion for traveling. At a baseball game he had told me he was taking a trip to Nova Scotia for a distant family reunion, as he had ancestors from there, and that this year was L’Anniversaire d’Acadie, or the celebration of when the Acadians landed in Nova Scotia. I kept his trip in the back of my mind as I had wanted to do some traveling of my own during August to use up some of my compensatory time before the next crunch at work. I then asked if I could join him. I met with him once or twice for a beer after work to discuss our trip. He brought me magazines on Halifax and Nova Scotia and detailed his own plans and explained that for part of the trip I would have to do my own thing. I had no trouble with his fact as I was hoping to do sea kayaking and other outdoors activities that would help me experience Canada, activities he probably would not be interested in anyway. I bought a plane ticket and I was psyched about the trip. The same weekend of the College World Series, I pulled the plug on the relationship I had with the preschool teacher. I felt terribly guilty about it afterward. She was such a sweet person, with so many qualities I desire in a female. However, she just did not physically attract me enough for me to desire to give her the affection necessary to bring our relationship to the next level. I had no choice but to end it. I brought her to the Aquarium of the Americas, sat down with her for coffee, and brought her home. As we parted, I basically told her that she was a great person, but I did not want to pursue or relationship any further. In the meanwhile my social life began to slowly awaken. A couple guys from the Lafayette area that I had met on the retreat had moved to Baton Rouge. On occasion, they would invite me and a few students from the campus church who had also been on the retreat over for dinner. In addition, I have made two trips back to the Lafayette area since the reunion. One was for the birthday party of a former retreater, and another was for a wedding of two former retreaters getting married. The same weekend of the wedding, an LSU student from the Lafayette area who had directed the last retreat had a birthday in Baton Rouge. Over this month-long period of time, ample opportunities have abounded for me to strengthen my ties with the people I know from Lafayette. And a girl from the retreat has a crush on me like I have never before experienced. She e-mails me telling me all of her emotional problems, thinking that I would understand them. She was on me like glue that entire wedding. As I had mentioned in a previous entry though, I am not interested in her. As sweet as she is, she has the religious upbringing of a nun, she looks terribly unhealthy, and she is far too reliant on other people. Looking at her makes me want to run back to the preschool teacher to beg for forgiveness. Nevertheless, I will be joining this girl at another wedding tomorrow in Lafayette that she asked me to attend with her. I do not know what her intentions are, and frankly, I do not care. My social life needs prodding, so any weddings I can go to, I will go to. If she pushes the envelope too far though, I will be up front and say that I just wish to stay friends. On the other hand, I am no longer friends with the old man from the cruise. When I got back to Baton Rouge after the 4th of July weekend, I noticed a letter in my mailbox with my name written in French. I noticed that it was from the old man‘s address, so I opened it right away. I thought it would be more information on Nova Scotia. Instead, it was a letter stating that the old man was really a closet homosexual, and that on our trip he promised not to touch or molest me in any way unless I consented to it . At first, I read it in disbelief, thinking he was playing a joke. After all, he had a wife and kid. Then, all of a sudden, puzzling innuendos after innuendos I had heard in conversations with the man started to make perfect sense. The man really was gay, and he was very attracted to me. A couple days later I called him to say that I would not be traveling with him and that I would not be doing anything with him any more. Fifteen minutes later, he called me back “to explain.” I courteously said I did not wish to hear an explanation, and, after hearing him yell over my speaking, I hung up. Since then he has called three times and left messages on my answering machine. He says he wants me to mail him back his magazines on Nova Scotia. I suppose he will have to borrow the magazines from his gay friends in Canada, because I refuse to send them. If he really wants to stir up an ant pile, I have a signed letter that states he his gay that I can show his wife. I do not know what to make of my situation. I reject a girl with a great personality that likes me, I hang out with an old man that turns out to be gay, and I worry about what I am to do about a girl I am not attracted to who has an inexplicable crush on me. Meanwhile, my ties with the students at that campus church, especially relating to that retreat, are getting stronger, and I seem to know more people in Lafayette than in Baton Rouge. At the same time, I find myself writing in this diary motivated by loneliness. I wonder what the anthropologist will think. |