What a graceful letdown...

It is that time of night when you aren't entirely sure of the spelling of graceful...or even if it is a word. I know; I just looked it up in the dictionary I won at post prom. Sure enough, there it was lodged between grace cup and graceless. Curiosity struck, and I have found that gracile, grackle, and gourami are in there, too. The gracile gourami narrowly escaped the clutches of the grackle.
Tonight didn't start with much hope; the inhibitionless memeber of our posse had flown the coup. Try as I might, I have never been a graceful dancer--I am ungainly, I flail. Generally, with full understanding of my ineptitude, I dance as oddly as possible. As always, my philosophy rears its ugly head: Make them laugh.

My dissapointment stems from one thing, and one thing alone: My own inability to vocalize my feelings. Perhaps, dear reader, you know the pangs (haha...she just said the word pang. Yes Jamie, I know. Let me pretend to be angsty) of liking someone and not being able to even broach the simplest of topics. Maybe like me, you can't even say hello to him without turning a distinct shade of lobster.
Well....Lobsters, I should probably turn in the evening. Maybe tomorrow will be my day.

Oh...and as a point of interest (and do not cheat and use a dictionary):
If you can tell me the meaning of "xebec" , I might love you forever.