The Disciple's Vow

At times I feel overwhelmed, alone and afraid. I don't even recognize myself sometimes and I feel as if I've transformed into an entirely different person. I've learned that, like a marriage, it is impossible for one to truly know their spiritual partner. One could spend his or her entire life with someone and still have a shallow or incomplete understanding of that individual. A spiritual master may see only what representation the disciple portrays of him/herself. (The eternal spiritual master who resides in the heart, Sri Guru, however, is never fooled.)
Disciples frequently lack the maturity or complexity to understand the desire and wishes of the spiritual master. Likewise, it is daunting to understand the Self. While the pact between master and disciple is before God to each other, allegiance in spiritual life is also an allegiance to the Self. The disciple is obligated to act always in his spiritual best interest. By no exaggeration, it is the primary priority of the initiated disciple to remain chaste to her eternal spiritual identity and duty. Failure to do so would hamper all progress and lead her astray; in fact, such misgivings could turn her away from the spiritual path entirely if given to offenses and accumulated misconceptions.
I do not know my Self. I do not understand my Self. I've often succumbed to doubt, temptation, fear and, most of all, hesitation. I fear to act, speak, feel or think for fear that it may not be palatable to others. I fear that my actions could be misconstrued or condemned or deemed reckless. I've found few things that truly bring me joy-- music, martial arts, and dedicated study. I've found that often I learn more valuable lessons in pursuit of mundane knowledge than in a dry discourse. I've seen drug addicts, addicts of the flesh, gamblers and so-called lost souls with more humanity, compassion and wisdom to offer than even the most weathered practitioner in temple. I find their lessons most valuable, relevant and influential-- for they remind me that the Lord can lead anyone back Home just as easily as illusion can lead her astray.
O Keshava! I've seen You staring back at me in the pages of a book. I have seen the Lord-- He was hidden between scribbled notes on the page. The Lord was found in careful arithmetic and calculations, in the relaxed breath between poetic phrases, dancing amid notes on sheet music. He was intelligence, beauty, an exasperated sigh and fluent understanding breaching forth from the page. I felt the Divinity within myself, around me, encoded within the multiverse, and brimming forth unbounded! I felt alone in this realization as I feared no one else had this same vision and yet I felt swaddled, safe in the Divine Feminine's arms.
Of all my identities, I found that the one I treasure, protect and keep hidden is the one that I should nurture and cultivate. She is locked away in a tower, accessible only with great effort. She is appalled and frustrated and distrustful of the outside world. She lives in her own imagination, in a fantastic faery-tale realm with ivory towers that offer her fortification from the grotesque. She is alone and peaceful, and yet restless and yearning for escape. She remains chaste, loyal and faithful to her spiritual master and awaits patiently his orders and instructions!

Gouranga Duti Pada

Today I woke up late at 5am. Our hope was that I would get the boys up early enough to make it to the early morning service (mangala-arati) but I figured it wouldn't happen so I prepared for my home altar service. The boys got up relatively early for a weekend (and spring break at that) and they helped out a lot with the services. Since today is a Gouranga Mahaprabhu's appearance day, we planned a large festival and worship for Gouranga. I sewed a new outfit for Giriraj Lal, a turban, two dhotis and chadars for Gour-Nitai. I thought the turban would take more time and I wasn't sure if I would be able to finish it. Kanai volunteered to make garlands, he designed a garland for Giriraj that was adorable.
We took a breaks for breakfast and lunch but the entire day was full of preparations for the festival. I managed to finish the outfits before it was time to go to the temple celebrations. I changed Nitai into his new outfit and quickly showered and changed before we left to Radha Kalachandji's temple. When we got there, I immediately couldn't stand it. The place was already packed and the festival was just getting started. I wore my new yellow silk sari with this gorgeous embroidery work. I think it's my new favorite sari. After the temple's bathing ceremony, it was time for us to get home and do our home deity's bathing ceremony. We did a bathing ceremony, worship ceremony and I got to lead the Gour arati prayers. We were supposed to go back to temple for the procession around the block but the boys and I were hungry and exhausted so we decided to go back home and eat. Dinner was fantastic. I was full so I decided to lie down for a bit and check Facebook. Maria and I took some cute photos today but she's really good at taking photographs.
I wanted to shared a prayer in glorification of Lord Gouranga's two lotus feet:

The Lotus Feet of Gouranga are my life and soul.

They shelter and protect me from the onslaught of material suffering.

The Lotus Feet of Gouranga are my only refuge.

They are like an oasis in the burning, desert-like material existence

My Lord Gouranga has come with the gift of Divine Love of God

He freely distributes it to whomever asks for it

Regardless of whether one is qualified or not.

My Sweet Lord Gouranga has shown the path back to Godhead

By personally taking up the process of chanting the Holy Name.

May that Holy Name bring upon Divine Love in my heart!

May that Holy Name purify my existence!

May that Holy Name always dance upon my tongue!

The Lotus Feet of Gouranga are my treasure, my soul, my greatest solace! 

Serie Anonimo

Anonymous Series

La Primera/The First

One of the final things you said seemed unenlightened from my perspective. Though I could bring myself to understand or accept this situation as a reality for others, it never crossed my mind that, perchance, such circumstances would ever fall upon me or mine. That is, if you would allow yourself to be mine. You broached the topic carefully and I understood it immediately for it was of sensitive and somewhat scandalous nature.

La Segunda/The Second

Today I felt particularly drawn to you. I wanted to tell you about something that happened over the weekend but it wasn't exactly appropriate and we had company. I can't tell you how much I love talking to you alone in your office. I really like it when I hear you playing some music or practicing alone in there between classes. That's why I peek in and sit with you, even if I don't have anything of interest to talk about. Sometimes, when you get really quiet, it feels cozy and safe, even if we're sitting far apart. I'm glad I met you and that we're becoming friends because I feel like I can speak freely with you unlike others. I feel like we've been friends for ages, possibly lifetimes, and that you understand my subtle moods quickly as well as their cause. I don't have to reveal much to you; intuitively, you perceive and understand everything perfectly such that at times I feel you're a mind reader! I feel that you sense my eagerness when I walk in the door or the hesitation by the sound of my dragging feet or defensiveness when I hide out in the room alone for a while listening to music or watching puppy videos. Sometimes, we don't have to say anything at all but remain silent, comfortably in each other’s presence. Why wouldn't you feel the same around me if I feel that way about you? Isn't that how Mother Nature designed attraction and coded this into our biology?

La Tercera/The Third

Oh, when she came into your office I wanted to rush her out. I know she has a bit of a crush on you and, though I understand her, I frequently feel irritated when she simply barges in or when she interrupts or distracts you from our conversations. I feel that way and I think you do as well; in fact, I’m sure you can sense my annoyance and jealously of her. You love her so much and she loves you but I’m starved, absolutely starved, for your attention. Pay attention to me! Why don’t you ever look at me when I gaze lovingly at you? Is it that you’re afraid to make contact with me? I assure you that I desperately desire every bit of your affections and attentions, but frequently I feel your trepidation and fear.

Is it that you’re ashamed of me? I’m not ashamed of you. I want you—every part of you but I also know your position. You’re in a position of authority and power in so many ways and your life is very public to your students. Why wouldn’t you feel a bit ashamed of me? I represent every unethical possibility and disastrous outcome and scandal. I promise I’d do my best to keep your public life safe from prying eyes and use utmost discretion. Couldn’t it work if we sat down and carefully planned ahead?

Behind The Mask

Yesterday I was frustrated and on the precipice of a heart-wrenching and conflicting realization. I desperately wanted to burst open and pour out all my thoughts, feelings and anxieties but I resisted. I resisted even in the presence of someone with no personal connection to my past or present circumstances or any personal bias. I resisted because I was afraid that someone would finally see me for who I really am rather than the mask I flash before them. Someone could unearth the interred remains of an identity I desperately tried to suppress and stifle ages long ago. For what more terrifying monsters lie in wait for us than the visage of our most repulsive and impulsive selves? Am I subhuman? A monster? Selfish? Greedy? Lusty? Unabashed? Impetuous? Immoral? Deceptive?

Later, I began an uncomfortable conversation with myself in hopes of alleviating some of the internal strife only to unravel further the tangled, mangled mess and catch fleeting glimpses of a new identity with complex and apparently contradictory beliefs and values. Who am I? Who have I become? Why do I continue to resist knowing full well the repercussions of isolation?

Secret Notes

Dear Sunshine,
I want to tell you a dozen things.
I want to tell you how much you intrigue me but I know it's a bad idea.
I'd like to get to know you better and tell you more about myself in turn, but in the process I know I could get myself and others hurt.
Knowing full well, I still feel drawn toward you. I yearn to reach out toward you much like a sun-loving vine tangles her way forward and climbs toward the warmth of the sun's rays.
-Latā, The Vine

Dear Beloved,
I managed to finally rid myself of you, that is, until today. I ran across an acquaintance and instead of moving forward gracefully, I found myself wanting to dig for any information as to your whereabouts, well-being, etc.
Perhaps I could inquire, but I know it was unlikely that I could manage the task without giving myself away-- or appearing desperate for you. (You know how I care about impressions.)
How can I know you, truly, when I am ungrateful of you when I have to to myself?  I take our moments for granted and then pine for you in the aftermath of your absence. Why is it so hard to admit that to you when we're together, alone?
-Ekākī, The Loner

Jazz Head

This Party Is On
So my latest dream takes place at a party and it begins with my my son and I showing up to the venue of an arts and crafts themed children's party. The host set up crafting stations for every craft imaginable. For example, one table was fully equipped with felt puppet making supplies like googly-eyes, hot glue guns, felt, etc. while another was a paper crafting table. The host even hired chaperones for each table-- most of them retired teachers and volunteers. My son was enamored with all the tables and decided to make a rouched black pencil skirt. After machine stitching the skirt panels, he hand-basted some loose gathers at the center front and back to get an idea of what the skirt would look like. I really loved the skirt, it looked great, especially for a nine year old's first try at sewing. The stitches were straight and even, the tension on his thread looked perfect, but the basting was a little slanted. The only thing he worried about was the size of the skirt because he hadn't taken my exact hip measurements before starting. "I think it looks fine, babe, but I can try on the skirt if you want." I said as I ducked into a nearby bathroom.
Rouched Mess
What I hadn't taken into account was that the material was stretchy and he hadn't used elasticized thread on the gathers or stretched the material as he stitched the vertical basting stitch so the hem was too high at the center front and back. When I tried on the skirt, my crotch and butt were completely exposed while the rest of the garment rested snuggly on my thighs. I have to disclose that I wasn't wearing any under garments, so I couldn't even model the skirt for him because there was a room full of nine and ten year olds that surely would laugh at my humiliation. It was like third grade all over again. I tugged hopelessly at the front of the skirt until the basting thread popped and the skirt front fell near my knees. Krishna Chandra knocked and peeped from behind the door and giggled at the silly sight. "It's alright, I can fix that later." he reassured me. He only saw the front of the skirt and I explained to him that I couldn't possibly come out because the back was more embarrassing; the basted gathers bunched up to the point of least resistance somewhere along my lower back. He got the picture and just had a fit. Besides the mishap with the basting stitch, the skirt was well-made. I assured him that we could finish the project at home where we had more materials and measuring tape. He laughed and I looked for my lover to show him Krishna Chandra's outfit.

Social Butterly

As it turns out, I knew plenty of people at the party, and by 'people' I mean intelligent adults with whom I could converse with for more than three minutes at length. Apparently, I was single because everyone at this party either kept asking me if I was seeing anyone yet or they would flirt and ask me out. I was seeing someone, and by 'seeing' I mean I was having casual sex with someone I knew but we weren't an official couple. My dream self is not very complicated but she confuses me. I really enjoyed the attention at the party but as the party went on, I started to feel guilty about lying to my friends about my relationship status. I wanted them to know the truth but I didn't know if my lover wanted to be my boyfriend yet. I looked for him everywhere as he assured me that he would be at the event, which, as I already related was more like an Arts and Crafts fair than a kid's birthday party. I started to feel bored and frustrated without my partner and so I left search for him. I wondered if he had fallen asleep or if he was sick, or if something terrible had happened to him.
Mountain Cabin
Around that time, someone mentioned to me that a huge storm was headed toward my lover's house and several attendees got emergency weather alerts from the National Weather Service in close succession on their smart phones. Thunderstorm warning. Flash floods. Hail. Heavy Rain. Flood warning. The jarring sounds of emergency alarms resonated in the corridors, which amplified the cacophony and my trepidation. I jumped into my car and drove to my lover's part of town and then hiked the rest of the way up to his cabin. He lived in a log cabin with a beautiful scenic mountain near a lake or river. As I hiked up to his place, I noticed the emerging thunderstorm clouds nearing the mountain and remembered that terrifying sound of resounding alarms so I ran up the rest of the way. I saw my lover's vehicle nearby and an unknown car as well. I thought that he must've gotten tied up with unexpected guests and was hosting them. Being cut off from cell towers and internet, he must not have received my texts of any weather alerts. It all made sense; I just had to warn them that the storm was on its way to this part of town and get them out of here before the flood water washed away the mountain side. Images of landslides and a collapsing mountain side wiping my lover's cabin from the face of the Earth rushed through my mind. As I approached his window side, I caught a glimpse of him in bed with a young blonde woman. As it turns out, my secret lover is none other than my husband, Chandaneswar. I should relate that is a recurring theme in my dream. It is unclear whether Chandaneswar and I are divorced, separated or if we were ever married in the dream. I just know that I'm an available single mother, a flirt, and I'm sleeping with an asshole. I don't know what it means, and it doesn't matter because we're at the scariest, darkest, most sinister, disturbing part of the dream. I hiked up the mountain trail past my lover's cabin and looked down at the view.
As I stood on the mountain side, a deep sense of calm detachment washed over me. I realized that his cabin was a perfect bachelor pad. I began to contemplate my life and wonder if it I wanted to make a scene or confront them. I grew apathetic and indifferent and concluded that it really didn't matter. I was using him as much as he was using me; perhaps I only wanted him for the purposes of filling a void in an uncomfortable social scenario. After all, I wasn't accustomed to handling social events alone. Eventually I would have to accept this new identity and social dynamic. As the storm descended upon that mountain, I decided to let my lover and his lady friend brave the storm and its wrathful destruction on their own. I didn't have to warn them, after all. Maybe they would perish in the flood water and resulting landslide. Who knows? Who can say for sure? Who knows the future?
Creative Destruction
I ran back to my car, got in and drove back to the party. As I drove, I remained eerily calm and determined that I would write my own future. I would go back to that party and get some phone numbers of people who wanted to be with me, who had no problem asking me out in public, and who didn't keep their cards to themselves. When I got back people were looking for me and asked me where I went and why I took off. I told them that I went to pick up a friend but got scared when I saw the approaching storm so I turned back. They all assured me it was wise that I had come back to the party quickly, I have a young son to care for after all. Krishna Chandra was still hanging out at the sewing station so I sat at an empty bench, grabbed some scrap paper and started jotting down lyrics, chord progressions, and a simple melody line. In my melancholic trance, it quickly turned into a jazz chart and song about murdering my lover and his mistress. I showed it to a couple of jazz guys and musicians at the party and asked them if they thought it was any good. The consensus was that it was inexplicably brilliant. "Have you ever written jazz before?" someone asked. "No, but I guess I should." I replied.

New Acquaintances

Have you ever met someone new and trusted him or her implicitly? I do not typically trust or disclose much personal or pertinent information about myself to strangers or casual acquaintances but when I do, it is because I feel like I haven nothing to lose by holding back. I guess that is how I have felt lately. I instinctively felt that I could trust this person with myself because sHe knew who I was and where I was headed or what I wanted in life or in death. I can’t describe it any other way and for some reason, I feel like I want to express every part of it, expose the darkest corners of that dream and let you see inside.

I got that feeling recently from someone in real life and it caught me off guard. I disclosed information that I have been holding on to for a long time. I did not think twice or hesitate about disclosing it. I even felt this person was trustworthy and worthy of my truth. This has not happened to me a lot but it has started happening with more frequency. At first, I met a few people that I trusted with vaguely personal things, and then I met many people—complete outsiders from my world—but I felt that they were not outsiders, they were insiders and they knew me. They knew the deepest parts of me because they experienced, felt, and understood the same experiences.
Lately I have been focusing only on violin studies and my personal puja. I do not worry if people do not see me at the temple; in fact, I have stopped going every day. There was a time when I had to go to temple for darshan once a day. It was compulsory. Now I do not really care and many times I do not even bother going to feasts for very long if I am not feeling it. Instead, I stay home and worship my personal deities. I gather flowers and leaves from my garden for Them and bathe Them with a simple abhishek. I give them Tulasi leaves and sing for Them without fancy melodies but with heartfelt lyricism.
All right, so in my dream, I travelled to Mayapur with some friends. We would be there about a month or so and I heard that Indradyumna Maharaj was coming back to India around that time so I brought my violin with me. I waited around the Mayapur Chandradaya Mandir in hopes of seeing some familiar faces or making new friends. As it turned out, a few young women were walking by, clad in bright yellows, pinks, and whites, and carrying instruments, costumes, and sewing baskets. I immediately fell in with them and befriended their leader. They were all from Eastern Europe and met at various events. The leader was hand-sewing new outfits that employed Indo-Western fused fashion elements. I was taken aback because I have never seen another devotee wear, much less create that kind of garb for temple activities, and she was doing it by hand. I have experience with sewing machine but I will be the first to admit that my hand stitching needs more practice and I realized this would be an excellent way to learn and improve my craft. Interested, I asked her if she needed help, an assistant, to press, gather, pleat, baste and so on. I explained that I had some experience but I wanted to learn more from her and she agreed. First, I noticed she was making pleated trim by hand so I offered to show her a technique I developed that made the process much faster. When I showed her, her face lit up and she said, “That’s brilliant! What else do you know? Quickly we became best friends by exchanging methods and techniques; she also loved music and studied back home so naturally Maharaja brought her along during Harinam tours and concerts. Her quarters hosted a dozen other girls, equally talented in various fields. Some girls were dancer/choreographers, others costume designers, other actresses and directors, and some were painters. When they learned that I studied violin, they asked me to join their troupe and I was so excited that they invited me in!
Later on, I went back to the temple where I saw a disturbing sight. My mother travelled to India and was lying in a cot sick and weak. I went to see her but she said it was merely jetlag and she’d been worse before. I told her that she should have told me should would come so I could arrange lodging for her but she said, “No, just let me sleep and close the door.” When I opened the door to exit, rays of light streamed in, and I noticed some boys in bed with her, my nephews! All four curled up with grandma, snuggled in close like wolf pups in a den. I asked her why she brought them along, scolding her, “Don’t you know they can’t stay in these quarters? This is for the local pilgrims who cannot afford lodging! They need beds, not woven cots! The heat will get to them, they need running water, showers, and AC!” Next to them, I saw another devotee I recognized from Dallas. I was stunned; certainly, an American can afford a room in the guesthouse, so why was he bunched up on a horrible cot in the underbelly of the building? When I kissed my nephews and mother, they felt hot! I felt obligated to check the other devotee as well, so I touched his foot and sure enough, he was burning up with fever and his body was covered in sweat. Disturbed and embarrassed, I walked away in search of a devotee friend who runs the guest services in hopes of securing a couple rooms for my family and possibly this other devotee. I searched around the compound but I could not find him and he is usually easy to spot because he rides around on a bright blue motorcycle. Instead, I ran into my new friends and told them what was going on. They said they had some friends who would gladly take them in. Their house was outside of the temple compound but a short walk away. They also had AC, indoor plumbing with hot water and plenty of space for four young boys. I was relieved. Maybe these women were heaven sent, I thought, they were the loveliest and kindest ladies I ever met and they took me in like one of their own.

                                                                                                     

Unanswered Queries

This morning I had a few errands to run before  I could go biking but I finally made it out of the house and headed to Lindsley Park. I had a weird dream about something or other but the most interesting thing so far are the confetti egg remnants around my perch.

There's confetti, flour and crushed eggshells everywhere! A small part of me is a bit grossed out by the eggshells but, mostly, I'm amused. I didn't know that anyone still played with confetti eggs or, even more fascinating, that people still go through the trouble of making them. It's notoriously tedious and time consuming.
I remember mom used to prepare weeks in advance. She would start collecting, cleaning and coloring eggs as early as February, or January, if she anticipated an egg shortage. To this day, I don't know who keeps track of egg production and consumption like she did (except for maybe commodities brokers who invest in eggs and whose livelihoods' depend on it) or how one goes about this task. WTF, mom?
I still don't know how she managed to cut such a uniform hole without shattering the eggs, or how she found the time to wash, color and fill them with colored paper confetti and flour! How she loved seeing us play with them! She really loved Easter festivities and I don't know if there was another occasion that she enjoyed as much.
These past few weeks have been stressful. Our trip to India was postponed, Purandar Acharya is throwing himself into this work, I'm biking to fill the extra time, Chandaneswar is focusing on his health and diet and Krishna Chandra seems perfectly content without his electronic devices. (He lost privileges a couple weeks back) He's almost too happy and content with out them. I mean, how will I punish him if he misbehaves? I could take his bike privileges but truly it would hurt me as much as him. I love riding together. It's the most fun we have whether we're alone or together. I really enjoy it and it gives us a great excuse to go outside at a moment's notice.
Yesterday, Chandaneswar, Purandar Acharya and I were watching a Bengali film named Kaler Rakhal but only the first hour and a half was available on YouTube. I'm so upset because there are a couple of Baul songs that I love but they're on the second half of the film. I've been searching everywhere for it with no luck. Where can it be??
Well, we're probably going to India this summer but I'm upset that we won't be able to travel with Lokojit prabhu. He's the best travel guide ever and knows all the best spots and people. At least we still have each other. I feel like we're desperately clinging to each other now more than ever before. I feel lost and alone adrift an ocean of anxiety but my raft mates keep my company and sanity. I don't know what I would be with out them. I don't know where I would be without them. I don't who I would be without them. Sometimes I think to myself, "Renounce this lifestyle and give yourself completely to Gauranga!"
What shall become of us, Thakur?

Anonymous Notes: The Last Time I Saw You

The last time I saw you, I felt anxious. I felt that you wanted to talk to me and it appeared you waited around in the hall in hopes of seeing me. I don't blame you; I've attempted the same before myself. There was no reason for you to stick around; the more I mingled, the more I realized that you probably were trying to reach out. I don't know whether you think I'm stupid enough to engage you or if your intentions are completely innocent. I don't know whether you think I'm a flirt or just friendly or that perhaps you have a chance in hell at striking up a fling off the cuff. What does it all matter now? As long as you persist, I'll resist. I'll keep you at a distance. Your demeanor is deceptively relaxed but I can see beneath that nonchalant veneer, my darling. 

The last time I saw you, I felt the happiest in my life. We were both absorbed and entranced in a delightful conversation and I didn't even care who else was around or eavesdropping because I simply couldn't have enough time with you. There was a palpable sense of urgency and desperation in the air that evening that drove me. Where shall we meet again, if ever, and when? I don't know if I'll ever see you again, or if I'll even have the courage to express to you how much you've touched my soul. I love you. I love you so much it just fucking hurts.

The last time I saw you, I felt we were both painfully awkward. I couldn't really find words to fill the empty void. I gave you a gift and without any reservation, you expressed how surprised you were but we didn't really speak again after that. I wonder how you are sometimes but honestly, I can't even be around you anymore. Sometimes I think you're deliberately trying to hurt my feelings and I can't wrap my head around you. Are we okay or not? I don't understand how you have so much power over me. Why do I care what you think about me? Is it because I still care about you? I can't stand you sometimes.

The last time I saw you, you told me I was beautiful and that you regretted the past. I accepted your apology because you seemed sincere and it was such a long time ago. I think you wanted me to feel sorry for you, your situation, your circumstances, and your hard times. I don't really give a shit. I don't care about your hard times because they were your own doing. You've manipulated and deceived plenty of people in your life and that is why you suffer. I don't know if you'll ever read this, but if you do, I hope you know I helped you because I cared for you, not because I felt pity. I wanted us to be friends and move forward but you crossed me in the worst possible way. How could you do it? 

The last time I saw you, I knew it would be the last time. I knew in my heart that I would have to live with this longing for the rest of my life and that every so often, that pang of separation would crop up, I'd stab it down, and forget it for a few years. And so on... it's been almost fifteen years and I don't think you'd recognize me anymore. I don't know if you would even speak to me in my present state and consciousness. Would you even find me interesting anymore or would I bore you? I wonder where you are, if you're all right, whom you're with and how you're doing periodically. I stab at the possibilities. I stab, stab, stab. 

The last time I saw you, my heart jumped. I couldn't believe it was you, but I don't know why I was so shocked. I don't know why I thought that I could avoid you and that it was improbable that I'd ever see you again. It was foolish to think so. It was foolish to hope I could put you behind me as an embarrassing phase and move forward without batting an eyelash. When I saw you, I had some ice cream or popsicle and you were headed to an exam. Where the hell were you all year? I didn't have to see you until finals week and it scared me shitless. I wanted to say, "Hi." but I also wanted to run the other way. I'm still terrified and titillated by you.