como frijole?

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dateline: oZburg

16 october 1996 7:06 p.m.

It's weird. I hadn't seen Derek for over a week. We barely talked at all over the phone, and when we did we spent most of the time consoling eachother for how tired the other was. I didn't know I missed him until I saw him today. He called last night and talked me into talking him into taking off from work ("That way the bad karma gets charged to my account," observed I) to come up to campus and eat lunch with me. At least I knew it wasn't going to be a bad date -- Wednesday is steak day at Manoa. I saw him wandering around Sakamaki Hall -- which I affectionately call "Suck-a-Monkey" -- from inside my Hawaiian class, and it was all I could do to not tap on the glass and wave. When we were let out, I ran up making a noise that won't easily be forgotten (that place has got some nice acoustics) and bowled him over with what he humbly called the "best damn hug in the universe." The line at the Marriott tent was only a mile long today, and after fighting over the last Pepsi in the bin (fighting over a Pepsi -- how pathetic), we sat on one of our school's many works of "public art" and talked. About everything. Often with our mouths full. It was disgusting. I wasn't as impressed as he was that he could find his way around campus "after all these years" -- I figure people with civil engineering degrees just have short memories. He kept mumbling, "Was I ever this young?" I kept flicking rice on him. (One thing's for sure -- the man's "appreciation" for younger womenfolk is deeply rooted. His neck's going to be aching tonight.) After we inhaled our lunches (my steak was about half meat, half a mysteriously-colored hunk of fat) we just sat, held hands (a highly underrated practice) and watched people. I love Hawai`i -- where else can you get sunburned waiting for your next class? Next class... I'd just experienced the shortest hour on record. Suddenly it was time to race off to psychology, clear across campus. I couldn't figure out if I had anything due. So I skipped it. Derek couldn't skip work, unfortunately. All of a sudden it was like the end of "Casablanca." Strings, misty filter and soft lighting -- the works. I don't get it myself. It's not like we spend a tenth as much time together as I figure anyone does as a couple. Whatever we've got, it's a helluva lot different than with most of my past relationships -- where either I'm just a few points short of obsessed or writing down a hundred-and-one credible ways to say "I'm busy." I'm never one to feel lonely -- which I guess partially explains my lousy instincts as a friend (if there are any of you left out there, I'll call soon, I promise) -- but I'm definitely somewhere else when we're together. It's like we pick up exactly where we left off when we can get together, but in between we lead completely unconnected lives. This "relationship" thing feels pretty weird without the guilt factor. Provided I can drag myself out of bed this weekend, we've got a picnic at the zoo and "The Long Kiss Goodnight" on the menu. Failing those, there's always another video night (the MST3k movie has been out for a while, after all). Now for a pointless Hawaiian exercise. "Ua lele `oi aku ka `alopeke uliuli `awiwi i ka `ilio moloa." Or, the quick (`awiwi) brown (uliuli) fox (`alopeke) jumped over (ua lele `oi aku) the lazy (moloa) dog (`ilio). It's amazing to realize how much you can accomplish while stuck in Beretania Avenue traffic. If I have my dictionary on me on Friday, I just might translate the Iliad.