It is ten minutes to 4:00 pm. My cube paper lantern is on, but the room is still rather dim. The day outside was cold, but pleasant. I've just returned from my Writing class, 21W.713. We have an essay due on Tuesday. I usually have problems writing essays on demand, but the structure of the class and the personality of the instructor are such that I don't feel pressure to produce anything more than a compilation of my honest thoughts. The professor is able to find something interesting to say about everyone's work, perhaps even just a small phrase that he particularly likes. And I think that's what I've been looking for in a writing class--- just a warm, encouraging environment that will allow me to write with as much ease and naturality as possible.


I think that's what we seek in friendships as well--- people who make us comfortable to be ourselves. And I really don't ask for anything more. Just yesterday, I seem to have found that a friend has gone through great lengths to give me attention, it seems at cost of his own personal obligations. I would not have gathered it from complaints (which he makes none) or from his seeming ambivilent during our time spent together (he is kind enough that he would be happy just to make someone else happy.) I do not despise his attention, his company is some of the most pleasant I've had in a long time. But. . . I don't want him to suffer for my sake. I want him to be honest about his other obligations, and I don't want to take up his time. And I wonder. . . due to his extreme kindness. . . if this is because he feels compelled to give me this attention---- that he thinks that I am in some way in need of it? Do I act as if I need extra taking care of? Do I act selfishly? And who will take care of him?


Do I make sense? I hate to speak in vague generalities, but for akwardness I cannot much do otherwise.


It is ten minutes after 4:00. The room is still dim, and will only grow more so. And my homework still sits waiting.