Monday, June 5, 2000

The grades came in Friday. While I didn't do as well as expected, by no means did I fail miserably either (in fact, I failed Problem Solving quite gleefully). I am still eligible to attend yet another semester of classes at S.U.N.Y. Potsdam and I can even remain in executive positions in on-campus organizations. All is fine from my point of view.

Of course, my mother likes to tell a different story. According to her, if I don't get my ass in gear soon, I'm going to be in "big trouble." It doesn't matter that my grades reflect what your average college student receives in an average semester - if it's not all 4.0s, I'm a fucking deadbeat loser. This from a woman who has received grades that haven't always been golden either, for various reasons.

My academics are really none of her business anyhow. She is not really paying for my college education - that comes to me courtesy of a shit load of financial aid and student loans. When it comes time, I'm going to have to pay back the loans myself.

I saw Billie Jo yesterday. My family and I went out to eat, and she was in the restaurant, sitting at a table opposite us as we waited to be seated.

I had the feeling recently that I was going to see her again. It was just one of those mini-premonitions that one sometimes has. A few days ago, I even thought that I had seen her out of the corner of my eye while I was walking downtown. I didn't look though, for fear that it actually was her I would have been seeing.

This time it was her, no space in the least for denial. It struck me by surprise, seeing her - I don't know why. It was just unexpected, as if someone had just suddenly stepped out in front of me.

She passed by me at one point, looked at me and two years of change, smiled, waved and said, "hi." I returned her greeting in kind. There was no animosity in the exchange, no bitterness, nothing negative. She acted as if I'd never served up a piece of my heart for her, and I did the same.

It is interesting what two years does to people. As she looked at me, I wondered what she was thinking - just morbid curiosity on my part. I knew what I was thinking well enough. Two years ago I still wore the occasional snatch of color. I had yet to dye my hair. I didn't own a trenchcoat. So much changes in two years.

I was once talking to a friend about Billie Jo, and what would happen if I ever saw her again. I was told that even if the reunion turns out favorably, I should not try to get back together with her - it would only turn out badly.

"I never had her to begin with," I had intoned.

This was given a reply, that when simply translated, went something like, "on any level."

I agree. It may carry a certain air of melancholy, but once the chapter to some stories has been closed, it should not be reopened.

Just a quick reminder: I am playing tomorrow at The Fields from 7-9PM. Bring yourself, bring friends, request songs, leave tips (because that's all I get paid).