September 23, 2003

  • Oh, la!!!  Registration Week.   I must admit I rather crave the nervous rush jitteriness, everybody up at the crack of dawn to print their course schedules, gulp down a quick dose of caffeine, wash up in the john en masse, and head out to the student center to wait in line for their reg cards, meet with their advisors (never!), resolve any schedule problems, and hit the campus bookstore.   Lucky me! I got Acting 101 with Brett; we like to take at least one class together every quarter to touch bases during the day. 


    Who would ya think I'd run into while sitting on the quad checking out my new books and replenishing my tan but Liza.  She made it into law school, proving once again my exceptional character judging ability.  I've always admired her.  A London born and raised girl whose engineer father transferred to Shanghai in her early teens,  her sultry understated Natasha Kinski looks, elegant English accent and manners, keen wit, and rich cultural background makes her the ideal woman to me, especially since she also accomplished the near impossible feat in her class of being so natural.  Everything taken in stride, including starting sex and going on the pill at fifteen.   With Liza, it's always, "Why, of course," not a long drawn out awkward transition phase with your whole family and circle of friends harping from the peanut gallery.  Needless to say, all the guys are crazy about her, a few willing to risk their rent to lavish her with expensive jewelry, leather and silks, even plane tickets and new cars.  But she stays hard to get, having the independence and know-how to make it on her own.  She's not at all frivolous and absentminded as jealous chicks are apt to say.


    By the way, one of the sororities is pulling a really catty trick for rush this year.  They drive around, six or more bitches packed into one car, until they spot a pretty girl walking alone.  Then they pull up to the curb, flag her down as if they need directions, and have the pledge say, "God, you're fucking ugly!!!"  Talk about "nobody walks in L.A.!!!!"


    (As you might've noticed, I don't have a jealousy problem.  For one thing, I like myself.  Two, at the precious age of twenty, I'm not an ugly cow.  And three, I decided a long time ago to deal with such retched embarrassing self-deprecating feelings constructively.  That means never acting out.  It helps to admit one's insecurity in a well-placed compliment, like, "Wow, you sure can draw!  I wish I were that gifted, man!!!"  Even better, do a thorough analysis of your life, and see if there's something you're not doing because of poor self-esteem.   Often you'll find it is in reach if you just take a chance and be realistic about failure, the human route.  That's my method and a jealousy-provoking one in itself; I sometimes get suspected of being a secret lezzie, just cuz I can be friends with super hotties without wanting to tear them apart!)