He's a sociopath.

He hates his mother, and his step-mother, the latter because she favored his half-brother over him. He's talked several times about his hatred for his mother.

He must be on something - always jerking, randomly making weird noises, saying things and then forgetting what he's saying. He's admitted he used to "have fun with the bong" a lot, but doesn't anymore, but did spend his lunch hour buying "special ethnic cigarettes" from a sketch area of town.

He says he's trying to quit smoking, but I know he's not. I've been there, that's not what gets me. At the firm, we have a smoking cessation program, where the insurance will pay for things like patches and gum to help someone quit smoking. This guy asked if hynoptism was covered; it's not. He said hypnotism has helped him a lot in the past, especially with his "severe anger problems" that would cause him to lash out at everyone.

And I'm stuck in this room with him every day.

My new coworker is a sociopath.

So I got an LSAT study book! It's actually really cool, and I feel like a total dork for admitting that.

I bought it this weekend, and there are several tests: 2 each of reading comprehension, logic games and logic, and then one final test. They're timed, and each are 35ish minutes.

I've done the two reading comprehension ones already. The first one I took this weekend, and got 14 right and 13 wrong (ugh). I just took the second and got 16 right and 11 wrong.

Movin' up...

Lots of things happened today, and I'm tired, but I want to remember them, so I'll write in clips.

***

We visited my patenral grandmother, et al. today and heard some good stories about my father and his five siblings. Two of my favorites:

*One of the six broke something in the house (a pretty much daily occurrence) and no one would fess up to who broke it, so my grandmother sent them outside where they had to stand against the side of hte house until someone admitted to it. So when they're standing out there, my dad and his brother (two oldest) convince their sister to say she did it, because she's the good one and won't get a spanking. So she did it, and my dad remembers he and his brother outside listening to her get a spanking.

*My dad and his brother convinced their sister (a different one) that the deaf woman down the street, the one who takes daily walks around the neighborhood, gets angry whenever she sees red. So whenever my aunt wore her favorite red-and-white checkered shirt (frequently) she would hide behind bushes or trees and wait for the woman to pass.

***

My sister and I saw "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" tonight at the new movie theater uptown. The movie was good, a little slow towards the end and a little long (2:47), but creative and good. The movie theater was freaking awesome. They're trying to make downtown a lot more livelier and better for the younger yuppies, I guess, and have opened a lot of new clubs and places within a few-block radius. I'm actually excited about it, and will have to come back and try everything out.

I saw the movie with my sister, who coughed the whole time. I admit that there are some things that I'm type A personality about - being on time for instance (which is why I'm almost always at least 45 minutes early for volleyball practice and have to drive around for a while). Movies are another thing. I can take some talking, some cell phones going off, but only so much. So when my sister begins coughing every three-to-six seconds during one of the most significant scenes in the movie, I get a little type A and let her know it. So she's pissed at me.

As we're walking to the car after the movie, she makes a comment that the only people she sees in downtown are "unattractive girls." And she follows the statement with this little laugh, though it's not really a laugh - just a little noise thing that is supposed to make her look like less of a bitch when she says something mean, almost as if she's adding the little laugh as a way for her to cop out with a "just kidding" if the person she's speaking to gets offended.

I've noticed this about her. She's become this person who's so critical, especially of other women and their looks, and I don't even want to be around her because it's like there's this big negative force around her. It used to be that she'd just ignore everyone and scowl, which she'll still do occasionally, but my god. I didn't think it was possible for more bitchiness to come out of her personality, but now...

I did point out a pile of puke on the sidewalk, though, which grossed her out and made me laugh, for some reason.

***

There's something strangely painful about being justifiably left out of certain things, but then feeling a bitter nostalgia. I saw a picture today of an old friend and his fiance, one of the first I've seen since the engagement, and it's sad to think that I'll probably never meet her, and that they're a beautiful couple but...but what? I don't know. It's not like I ever did what I could to keep up with him. To be honest, I've been a pretty shitty friend in the past. Something else to work on.

***

I spoke with my uncle (the cool one who works in the Pentagon, who works in MY CITY) yesterday and he asked what I was waiting for. Goooood question. As of now, my plan is to get engaged, get married and have cute babies and a house with a yard for my future dog. But in terms of my career? Fuck no I don't have a plan.

So I thought about it and about what's important to me that I can make a career out of. I decided that the ideal situation would be to become a homicide detective and work part-time as a pastry chef. Obviously, neither is practical.

But, I can do something about it. So I'm going to try and take classes to get paralegal certification, and maybe a few fun baking classes. I can't get into law school with my undergrad GPA - not sure I even want to go to law school yet, but if I ever decide to do it, the paralegal certification could help me out. Hopefully I can then work my way into either a criminal defense firm (I used to tell myself that I never would, but the more I've thought about it, the more I realize that the judicial system only works if both sides are adequately represented) or a prosecution position. We'll have to see.

***

I go back home tomorrow, and back to work Monday. Both have good and bad aspects. Though I think knowing that I'll be moving towards something in my life will make things a bit better. :) The holidays are over and I barely even noticed they were here. I might like that better.

She Saw No Contradiction

Just a brief blog - I woke up this morning and read the news that Israeli F-16 bombers have killed at least 155 people in the Gaza Strip, most likely all of whom are Palestinian.

The Israeli-Palestinian crisis has always been a bit too in depth for me to fully grasp, but I've tried, and with a Palestinian friend, I've gotten the general idea of both sides.

It's a terrible situation (duh) but one I can't understand, in terms of the motivations for the violence. The creation of Israel was questionable, I believe, not that we can go back in time and change it. But, and I know I sound terrible saying this, I would have expected more from the people who "gained" Israel, considering why they did.

It reminds me of a news article I read while researching Apartheid for one of my literature classes: "Brothers in Arms - Israel's Secret Pact with Pretoria." In the second part, the author begins:

Several years ago in Johannesburg I met a Jewish woman whose mother and sister were murdered in Auschwitz. After their deaths, she was forced into a gas chamber, but by some miracle that bout of killing was called off. Vera Reitzer survived the extermination camp, married soon after the war and moved to South Africa.

Reitzer joined the apartheid Nationalist party (NP) in the early 1950s, at about the time that the new prime minister, DF Malan, was introducing legislation reminiscent of Hitler's Nuremberg laws against Jews: the population registration act that classified South Africans according to race, legislation that forbade sex and marriage across the colour line and laws barring black people from many jobs.

Reitzer saw no contradiction in surviving the Holocaust only to sign up for a system that was disturbingly reminiscent in its underpinning philosophy, if not in the scale of its crimes, as the one she had outlived. She vigorously defended apartheid as a necessary bulwark against black domination and the communism that engulfed her native Yugoslavia. Reitzer let slip that she thought Africans inferior to other human beings and not entitled to be treated as equals. I asked if Hitler hadn't said the same thing about her as a Jew. She called a halt to the conversation.

Reitzer was unusual among Jewish South Africans in her open enthusiasm for apartheid and for her membership of the NP. But she was an accepted member of the Jewish community in Johannesburg, working for the Holocaust survivors association, while Jews who fought the system were frequently ostracised by their own community.

Many Israelis recoil at suggestions that their country, risen from the ashes of genocide and built on Jewish ideals, could be compared to a racist regime. Yet for years the bulk of South Africa's Jews not only failed to challenge the apartheid system but benefited and thrived under its protection, even if some of their number figured prominently in the liberation movements. In time, Israeli governments too set aside objections to a regime whose leaders had once been admirers of Adolf Hitler. Within three decades of its birth, Israel's self-proclaimed "purity of arms" - what it describes as the moral superiority of its soldiers - was secretly sacrificed as the fate of the Jewish state became so intertwined with South Africa that the Israeli security establishment came to believe the relationship saved the Jewish state.

I know that's a long quote, but it's worth reading, as is the rest of the article. This is one of the many concepts that I don't think I'll understand, and it's frustrating.

In other news, off to visit my paternal grandmother in the country. I get to see kittens. :)

Yep, today was a weird day.

Well, okay, some background - last week, my brother (you know, the one who had a heart attack in his twenties) was beat up by two guys. To save a long boring history lesson - my mother's relationship with my brother is frustrating. He takes advantage of her, both economically and however else he can, and she won't listen to anyone who tries to even just reason with her. My father has stopped trying.

Basically, my brother is my mother's project, the one thing she'll pour everything into to try and mold him into the person that both she and society accepts as a "normal" person. He's far from it, and she won't stop trying. Every once in a while I'll be like, "Hey, sure, what the hell, he's not too bad a guy," but then he'll act like he always does and everything will go back to the way it was.

So anyways, ever since he got beat up, my mother's been so on edge that we're all walking on eggshells. I didn't think she was serious when she yelled at me for laughing today, but yeah, she was. And it's gotten my father all on edge, too.

I went with her to drop off Christmas presents for my brother's ex-girlfriend's daughter (another story), and we were in the neighborhood where my brother was beat up. As she was walking back to the car I was sitting in waiting on her, I unlocked the doors, and she yelled at me because she thought she already did it, or something. And then immediatly called my brother to ask him what kind of car the guys who beat him up drive. She said that every person she sees, she just wonders if "that's one of them."

I guess I just don't really get it. My brother's fine, aside from a broken finger and hurt eye. And now, a week later, she's still acting kind of crazy, and is almost acting like the mother I met who lost her son in a gang fight - she never found out who did it and always questions it. I don't know, I'm not my mother, but I feel like she may be taking it too far.

But the again, this is my mother, and she's always dropped everything in her life to help my brother become the person he is - a border-line unemployed pot addict.

Phew, I'm feeling a little better now. I think it's more that I'm in my room and can finally breathe. But tomorrow is another day, which will hopefully be a better one.

Oh Christmas...

I saw my first dead body today.

No, it wasn't ER's. It was SW's, a 90-year-old woman who just died from old age issues, and who is apparently my grandmother's cousin. My mother was attending ER's funeral, and my grandmother needed someone to go with her to SW's wake, so I figured I could go.

Neither of us expected for there to be an open casket. She had on too much makeup, and looked waxy. I was freaked out at first, and then was a little intrigued. I wanted to touch her and see what a dead person's skin felt like, but figured that was a bad idea. Instead I just stared.

Another death.

It was good to spend time with my grandmother though. While we were eating dinner (before the dead body), my grandmother stopped at one point, as if she remembered something, and asked me what "m f" stands for.

"It's mother fucker, right?"

All I could really do was nod and laugh. If you knew my grandmother, you'd understand why it's funny.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and I'm such a grinch. I don't even care. But I am excited about the gift I bought for my parents - one of those vhs to dvd recorder things, so they can transfer all the tapes from when my sister and I were kids onto a DVD. I know my father will really like it. Plus I'll get to see the video of me when I was a kid trying to do a somersault.

Will it ever feel like Christmas again?

Even If You Cannot Hear My Voice, I'll Be Right Beside You Dear

There's nothing quite as sobering as death. It's one of the few concepts I'm genuinely obsessed with, one of the few that I think about and try to understand at least several times a day. It could be because my job deals with injuries and, unfortunately, death is one ideal for us. But I've had this infatuation, obsession, since I was 12.

I remember riding in my parents' old Dodge Caravan, the one that broke down every six months, when the concept of death hit me for the first time. I don't remember why I was thinking of it, but I remember that it was truly frightening for me.

"Death is scary," I said in the middle of my daydream. My father was sitting in the driver's seat and was quiet, and my sister in the front passenger seat gave her signature "what the fuck is wrong with you" scoff. "Because when you die, you can't think or anything."

"No duh, that's what dead means," my sister said.

My father cleared his throat and said, "It is scary."

It's a small conversation that I think about often, whenever my menopausal mother says she won't be around to see me get old and bitchy, or whenever we get bad news. I regret remembering the conversation, in part because it marked the beginning of my obsession, and in part because I know my father fears death as much as I do, which is something that truly saddens me, and is something that I know will make his inevitable death much harder to accept.

This reflection of my obsession was brought on by bad news. In July I saw a Facebook group one of my friends joined, called Pray for ER. Groups about praying for people catch my attention because of my beliefs, and this one did in particular because we shared a name.

I read the group description and learned ER was attending my old high school. Several days before, she went to the doctor for a sore throat, and within a week or two was diagnosed with leukemia. I called my mother, who currently works at my old high school, and found out ER was a student of hers.

To give some background, my mother is inspirational in her determination to better the lives of anyone she can, to put aside her needs in hopes of helping others reach their full potential. I got my listening skills from my mother, which works well because we can both call each other at times of frustration and each feel better at the end of the conversation.

Because of this, it wasn't surprising for me to hear the honest sadness in her voice upon learning about ER's condition. I'll be truthful and say that I nearly dismissed the situation; this isn't the first time I've known someone facing the struggle with a disease. But something about this situation was different.

I followed ER's CaringBridge journal, reading the ups and downs of the treatments and her progression. I watched the local news segments that focused on her fight and that covered the candlelight vigils held outside of the school.

In September I went with my mother to drop off Greek pastries for her at the hospital, and the nurse said she was doing well. Even now I get that compulsory feeling of apprehension and incapability I felt while walking down the wing of the children's cancer ward.

Forty-five days ago she underwent a bone marrow transplant and would have to stay in the hospital for 100 days for monitoring. The 100 days are amazingly significant, and if something goes wrong in this period...well, it's bad.

On November 30, her mother posted to her online journal that the bone marrow transplant was a success. The excitement and relief in her mother's writing was obvious and deserved:

When Amy told her that yesterday, she burst into tears of joy and exclaimed "It's a miracle!" While this may be too expected and medically possible to technically be a miracle, it is a HUGE BLESSING. So you'll just have to forgive E and us if we don't use the word properly.

On December 11, day 35, her mother posted that it had been five months since Emily was diagnosed with AML. The doctor had given some good and bad news, but the family was optimistic and asking for prayers.

Day 37, December 13, was a great day.

Day 41, December 17, was a bad day. The blood flow to Emily's spleen reversed, meaning the treatment wasn't succeeding, and there were no further options.

Yesterday, December 20, day 44, Emily died. They said she died peacefully and without pain less than 6 months after the diagnosis.

For the family, and for her friends, they're all comforted by the fact that she was a child of God and that she's with him now. I'm very happy for their relief and I hope that their faith helps them through this.

To me, though, it's upsetting, because there are terrible, horrible people who don't deserve the chances they're given, while someone like ER, who by every account was beautiful in all ways, was dealt this card. But, I guess that's why I don't make the decisions about life or death.

I don't really have anymore to say. As I told Barefoot, my blog is my therapist, and I've gotten out what I needed to in order to move on. "Move on" maybe isn't the right phrase.

My boyfriend thinks I'm pretty crazy. He doesn't understand how the death of someone I never met can have an impact of me. He's not the only one. To be honest, I don't understand it either. But I like to tell myself that there's a reason for it and I should just accept it, and let it put my life into perspective, and use the lives of others to ensure mine isn't wasted.

Well, we're not going to spend New Years in DC...again. Instead, we'll spend it here, getting drunk and blowing in the breathalyzer I got him for Christmas, listening to Amanda's (aka "I bet my life's more fucked up than yours - want to see") stories while thinking how awesome it would have been being at the monuments at night, and while realizing that he couldn't get past a grudge enough to spend one night in my dream city for the second year in a row. But good news - we'll get to visit DC sometime next year, and we'll be engaged within 6 months to a year.

He asked me tonight if I would say yes. Well, of course. How could I say no? We agreed on sapphires instead of diamonds. And he actually danced an entire dance with me last night at the company Christmas party.

There's only one thing I can think right now...he's planned well enough to provide a great life for my future children. Can I ask for more? Yes. Should I? No.

My brother's going to die soon. He got in a fight (really, his drunk irresponsible excuse for a girlfriend shoved him into it) and spent the night in the hospital. He's now vowing revenge. It's weird to think that my brother's going to end up either dead or in prison for killing someone, but I don't think there's any other paths for him. Which is a shame considering how much my mother tried to open all these doors for him.

It doesn't feel like Christmas, and I'm afraid it won't again.

STUPID FOOTBALL. The Simpsons aren't coming on.

So this time last year I had already finished all my Christmas shopping, and ran up my credit card buying more gifts so I could be out with other Christmas shoppers and hear the Christmas music in the stores. Oh, and see the little kids visiting Santa.

But I haven't even started. And I don't even want to. Why does this year feel so different? Maybe it's the economy. I don't know. But the economy doesn't explain the Christmas music - I started listening to it after Halloween, but I haven't now, and don't really want to. GOD I'm such a scrooge.

In other news, I have to find a dress to wear to the office Christmas party. I overheard the temps in the same area as me talking about it, and they're going all out - cocktail dresses and everything. I guess I should look nice, as well. I'm more looking forward to the free booze and cheaper hotel room (the office is paying for most of it) so neither J nor I have to DD this year - thank GOD. I can't wait for "Frost/Nixon." I think that'll be the Christmas highlight.

Oh, new obsession - The Ting Tings. Their song "That's Not My Name" was played during the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, which I love, for some reason. Check it...

Update
So the Simpsons are coming on! Just late.

Also, this is my second obsession: A Sort Fairytale. But more people seem to like the Victoria's Secret one (I wonder why...). :)

And I'm So Sad, Like A Good Book I Can't Put This Day Back

I've been wondering if being lonely for once would be such a bad thing. I think I'm just freaking out. I had an engagement ring chat this weekend - diamonds, or white sapphire? - and I don't know where I am right now. I want to go through with it. But, there's so much I still haven't done. Not that I couldn't do it if it happened. Could it?

My mother keeps asking me if I'm happy. My sister is going to my city for an interview for a job this weekend. I've given up on Africa, and just about given up on my city, but the thought of her having it is just...just a little too much. One minute I'm sure I should just go for it, and the next minute I think that I can't leave the life I have now.

I almost wish I had someone to make decisions for me.

I miss things. I've always told myself that if I could go back and change something, I wouldn't. But, now, I would change a lot.

I wouldn't have quit.

I would have shown up when I said I would.

I would have grown up and said what I felt, not what I thought I should have felt.

I would have told the truth.

I wouldn't have spent time with the people who, in the long run, don't matter, and I would have enjoyed being with the genuine, good people.

I would finally sit down and finish something.

I wouldn't miss things.

I took a break, but I'm losing my sanity, and wanted to return.

When I heard about the terrorist attacks in India, I said to myself that I'll never go to India. That's also the reason I'm not planning on going to any major city (other than MY city - it's worth it). I'm not really planning on going anywhere.

It's 100 percent irrational to fear these kinds of things, I know, but I do anyway. And I realized today that it's never going to stop. Stopping the fear means stopping the source, and stopping the source means getting rid of free will, of these people's desire to kill. It's just not going to happen. So this is obviously something I'm going to have to deal with, I guess.

I wonder if it wouldn't be easier to just let it happen. If that would make the fear stop, it might be worth it. Maybe.

Not So Much, No

This is the third night I've had this cold. I got about 4 hours of sleep the first night, and 2.75 last night - yeah, I spent most of the time counting down until my alarm went off. I'm trying to think of a name for it, but the only thing I can come up with is Foul-Weather Friend, which is terrible. But I am NOT missing work tomorrow. It's coworker survey day, and I have a lot to say.

I'm going to go cough and wish I had Wall*E.

So, after a longer-than-expected period of actually border-line getting along with my sister, we're back to where we used to be. The good thing is that I've actually got a lot of stuff to work with here, as opposed to last time, when she played her natural manipulative bitch card to screw me over.

She doesn't realize that she carelessly left herself logged in to her Yahoo email, and that I have her Facebook password, and that I have a lot of dirt that she really, really would not want me to have.

But, and this is using her words, I'm "worried" about her, and as her sister, it's all justified.

As someone who cries during stupid public service announcements and during Will Ferrell movies, it's no surprise to me that I can't help but shed a few happy/whatever tears tonight. I think I'm just proud that someone competent, dedicated and seemingly-perfect can now speak for us, as opposed to what we've had.

Okay, on another note, I'm going to copy facebook statuses (stati?) as the results of Obama's win go around (though, being in the state that I am, I am not going to put the true feelings of some people):

*KM is this guy has wanted to be a politician since he was a kid. This is a check off his list. Congrats on your inexperienced socialist president.

*AT is going to crawl under a rock and stay there for 4 years...maybe 8...maybe more.

*AC is moving out of the country.

*JJ is the people have spoken. And this is proof of the Palin Defect.

*MN Well this is the day socialism begins I really think I am going move to Europe for a couple of years who's with me?
1 Comment
BP: No thanks, Ill enjoy my socialism, have fun with their fascism.

*SH is Change can be done. History has been made. Obama 2008!

*BN is Europe here i come...how can an anti-American, socialist be the leader of the free world..

*RT is sad for the future...but united behind God and country.

*MP blah blah blah blah Barack Obama blah blah blah.

*WD is proud of B-Rack!!!!

*ML is FREAKING OUT!!!!!!! OMG!!!!!!!

*SW Moving to Australia

*EL is this is one of the most memorable dayS in my life. LONG LIVE PRESIDENT BARACK OBAMA!!!!

*LB is thanking God that the right man won the election!!! MY PRESIDENT IS BLACK!!!! Yes We Did!! Congratulations to President Barack Obama!!! say something!

*CF SO MADDDDDDDDDdd ughhhhh.

*LW is OHHHHHHHHHHHH YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*MC just witnessed history. You Republicans can move to another country. REAL Americans are proud of their country right now.

*KP is speechless..Who wants to go in to buy a private island with me?
- 2 Comments
JD:
I do.
CF:
I'll help you buy the island.

*AT is movin to mexico.

*CF is going to stay in italy for the next four years.

*AT uuuugggghhhh.

*LC is OUR new President. Sweet deal.

*RQ is welcome to the U.S.S.A.

*MJ is EXCITED ABOUT OBAMA BEING PRESIDENT......BRING MY BLACK ASS HOME FROM IRAQ.....

*ME is moving to hong kong!

*KC Now is the four-year winter of my discontent. I cannot express how disappointed I am for this country.

*PH thinking America screwed itself today.

*BR is alright i'm running for president in 2012.



I just think it's funny...slash sad...slash scary...

I Appreciate You Being With Us Tonight, Via HOLLAgram

Sigh. My state is the suck.

The Kidney Problems Aren't Connected

So the maintenance guy is here fixing my heat. You have NO idea how on edge I am. I rearranged all my weapons, though, to make it easier if I need them. And I also baked cookies beforehand to give to him before he leaves. Maybe that'll give me some good vibes and make my heat work.

I wish I had cleaned more.

I'm. Cold.

My heater is broken. I have on two pairs of warm fuzzy socks, a sweatshirt and a jacket and my warmest pair of sweatpants, under two blankets. 80 degrees is cool to me, so freaking 63 is killing me.

The good news is that I can play out two scenarios:

1. I'm Jane Austen in England in the winter of 1793(ish) and I'm writing all my good stuff.

2. It's 2013, the Mayans were so totally right and my survival depends on me using my stuffed animal (Mr. Whale) as my only source of warmth, and I have to survive the night in order to live (makes sense). Oh and I'm in Antarctica, and the penguins are afraid of Mr. Whale because, let's face it, he's a whale, and the real ones eat them/play with them.

If you don't understand why drunk driving is as serious as life or death, love or hate for me, then you don't really get me.

If you don't understand that I don't think your friend's joke - that I'm either lacking morals or stupid - isn't funny to me, then you don't really get me.

If you don't understand why those two things are big things - really big things - to me, then you won't understand why my tears are staining your sweatshirt.

And if you can't get that, and just dismiss my reaction as either drunken induced or as me being me, then you don't understand many of the significant moments of my life, you don't understand that things like this have made me who I am. And that truly terrifies me, considering I spent the drive over practicing my ecstatic face and demeanor I would put on when/if we get engaged. I don't want to be another failed couple, another angry person.

And yet, here I am, writing angrily in my blog instead of talking to you, because you'll just insist it's a joke, or that I've had one too many drinks, or that I'm just misunderstanding the situation. But maybe that's what I'm destine to become - another statistic. The good news is I may survive.

I'm watching "Scary Movie 4" while taking a break from making my Halloween costume. I'm going to be an Easy Bake Oven. :) I considered it fitting, considering my nickname around the office is Easy Bake.

I'm also on Day 2 of my headache. I'll probably just crash early and hope it's gone by the time I wake up. Again.

I don't think there's anything quite as awesome and confusing and depressing and surprising as knowing that this could possibly be the best time of my life...and actually enjoying it.

Many, many things have happened since my last post. Probably none of which I will actually get to. But lets just say I saw a best selling author speak, spoke of a possible engagement and may have found a purpose in life.

But the best thing that's happened is I found out a coworker used to be a criminal defense lawyer, and was a clerk for a judge for a serial killer's trial - and actually met the guy. This is like meeting an A-list celebrity to me - seriously. So I've slowly been asking the coworker questions, and it's freaking awesome.

That's about all I'll get to now. I'm slightly toasted and I have to pee.

The end.

Things Just Got Complicated

I got a coaching position - 14 year old girls. I'm excited. But...it's also complicated. And I don't think J can understand. If he can't behave, and if he can't promise, I can't have him there. And I know that's something he really wants.

Sigh.

Now I wish I didn't tell him about coaching. Stubborn J sucks.

thisissand.com

Holy. Jesus. Christ. Hell. I'm in it.

Well J's ex-girl never showed. But I got to watch a Bosox win over beer pong. It's 3:33 am and I don't quite know how I got to this point, but I do know I had some text messages with two good friends that I miss much.

Sigh. I almost ran away from J screaming that it was over, but I'm glad I didn't. It's good to have security in someone I love. And it's good to have photo documentations of what exactly I did tonight - but I was good, no ciggies (except now) and no flirting with other guys or leaving J.

What am I scared of? Maybe the beers will speak for themeslves. I'm scared of being alone and of having to fight my own fights, of being completely helpless in a world where being helpless is a matter of life or death.

I"m on my balcony now. I'm hopin gmy neighbors don't see me, or at least the bad ones don't see me, and get some ideas. I'm hoping that no matter what I'll be strong enogh to puruse my dreams.

A friend of me and J's (his initals are JW) lives in DC, actually just oustside of it. I was looking at hotels for next weekend, and JW said I can always crash on his couch, which soudl be good. I just want to be there, just want to feel it in my bones, just want to feel my cit inside of me. I want to leave all of this shit behind and live the life I want to. Even if it means working for a compnay I don't belive in - how would that change from now?

Maybe someday I'll be brilliant and love my life and everyone in it. I'm tired of being tired. But here I am - tired and wishing for something better. Maybe someday.

On a happier note - I get to go out agian tomorro,w, but in a lim. Ona weirder note - what the fuck is that noise oustide fo my apartment? I think it's a cow. Again.

And I think I lost my phone. Sigh.

Who's Going To Watch That?

Going out tonight. So tired. But it's J's high school reunion and his ex will be there. She's amazingly smart, and apparently super nice. I know nothing to worry about. But they would have been together if her parents had approved of J (she's Indian). I'd like to know what kind of person he loves.

In part inspired by this, and in part inspired by my professor, I think I may start crime blogging again.

I saw the movie "American Beauty" for the first time recently. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. It's hard not to relate to every one of the characters in it. There's something about being ordinary and simple that's terrifying.

Two years ago, my friend killed himself, and one of my old friends accidentally ODed and died. At the time, my professor said, "Tell me who your friends are, and I'll tell you who you are. The point isn't that you should abandon or repudiate your friends. You have no reason to, and doing so might be disloyal. But you should analyze what happened to them and find a way to keep them --yourself-- from coming to the same end."

I miss every one of them. Maybe I'll visit my professor soon.

Just Breathe

CP: Where's my content?
E: What content?
CP: For the website. The one launching tomorrow.
E: Oh, I didn't know it was launching tomorrow. When do you need the content?
CP: Now.
E: Okay. I don't have it, I didn't know you needed it so soon.
LH: See, you have to tell people things.
E: What kind of content do you need?
CP: That's up to you.
E: No I mean, I don't know what the target audience is or anything.
CP: You're the content manager, deal with it.


I love my life, I love my life...liar.

Theres An Old Man Sitting Next To Me Makin' Love To His Tonic And Gin

I had time to kill today, so I drove by my old University and stopped at the newspaper office (with snacks, of course - that's basically the price of admission). So I managed to escape into happier times for a bit.

One of the new writers, CD, is also executive director of the college republicans group at the university, and is so passionate it's hard not to love her. She spoke with me for at least 20 minutes about a debate that took place on campus the night before, and how frustrating it was to have incompetent students represent the republican side (because it was sponsored by the newspaper, she wasn't ethically allowed to do it because of her position with the newspaper). I just hope for her, more than anything, that she doesn't lose her passion when she graduates.

My one conversation with J tonight:

(11:00:01 PM) J:how was softball?
(11:04:04 PM) J: hmmm, my battery's dying, so I'm going to put my laptop upstairs, but hope you had fun
(11:04:06 PM) J: see you tomorrow!
(11:04:09 PM) E: k

I guess he forgot I didn't have softball tonight. That's okay. Maybe I'll forget to make dinner tomorrow.

Last Post For The Night, Promise (Right Now)

"Hi Professor R:

I had a dream last night that you and 99 other people read a book I wrote and all vowed never to speak to me again. I couldn't figure out why, because the book was about sunglasses. Hope you're doing well."

"If you write a book about sunglasses, I won't speak to you."

*****

I love my professor (I guess ex-professor). This is where some emotional issues come in. He's not someone I would ever love in the way that I love my boyfriend, though I've thought about it. But he's my best friend, mentor, and brutally-honest-go-to-guy. I'm honestly scared of what will happen when he dies.

You Can't Get Out Of This

I'm smoking again.

I secretly hope my friend's non-profit organization for kids in Africa fails because I can't do something brilliant like she can. I know that my feeling that is why I can't do something brilliant.

Every time I think I can like my sister, she does something, and I realize why we can't ever really be friends.

I have to clean out my car because I don't have room for my laptop in the mornings anymore.

I'm with my boyfriend because I can't be alone and because I love him, though I don't know if it's the right kind of love.

I think it's hilarious that my aunt honestly thinks Obama is the anti-Christ.

I don't follow up with friends because I don't want to be let down, and I don't feel guilty that I let them down.

I tried having an eating disorder a few years ago, but I love food too much, and failed after 7 hours.

When I pull my hair into a ponytail, the shorter hair in front frizzes out, and it looks like I licked an electrical socket.

When I'm honest, I feel that I can both breathe and live with myself.

So, the brother of the convicted murderer/murderer-helper was fired today. Here's to hoping I survive this.

Mondays

Sigh. I hate them.

Was That Your Plan? Was That A Test That I Didn't Pass?

Eh. Never mind.

Fucking Friday

#1: I don't care that you've lost 5 more pounds. I don't care that you dropped clothes sizes. I don't care that you're going to run a 5K tomorrow. And I really, really, really do not give a shit about your pathetic excuse for a fuck tested negative for STDs. Do you expect me to jump up and down and squeal and wave my hands around because your fuck may or may not be cheating on you? Guess what - he is, and I'm secretly excited for the day that you realize this.

#2: I hate you. You're not even worth being told off.

#3: I love you. You have pneumonia. Again. Your drugs aren't working. You're weak, can't stop coughing and can't catch your breath. Your x-rays will probably show what we all know - congestive heart failure. I want to give you the journal that I bought a few years ago and never gave to you. I bought it so you could write your story, because it is such a wonderful, wonderful story. But it's blank. Now you're too weak to write a letter. I've almost become numb, but not numb enough.

I Won't Live To See Another Day

"And I apologize for not being able to be more specific."

"It's okay, sir, you're fine."

"I'm not fine though, E. I wish I was fine."

* * * * *

"I've walked the path a million times trying to figure out why. The only thing I can figure out is she just wasn't paying attention - she was speeding. I was supposed to die. I wasn't supposed to make it. She's Christian so I figured they all got together and prayed."

* * * * *

"As to his resume, all I can say is WOW."

"Both websites are unattractive and one is defunct."

"Does that mean you're not interested?"

"It's up to you for writing. As an assistant to me? No."

"He knows Final Cut - he can do in-house stuff."

"I would only invite people to intern to us if they are willing and need to learn. If they need us to get experience. This guy looks like he already knows what we do. Again, it's up to you. I don't think he would make a good assistant to me and C though."

No sex equals no conversation.

You Know, Not Listening

"Black Russian."

"Black Russian? Took a cab?"

"Oh please, that's like water to me now."

"Wow, things have changed."

"Well I quit smoking, everything, for Stephen, replaced it with alcohol, and when that ended after he penetrated that slut, I'm smoking again and an am now a full-blown alcoholic."

"As long as you're happy. That's really just bullshit, your life sucks."

"Don't they all."

"At least you get to have a divorce, some of us don't get past the shower fuck."

"How are things with the latest dick?"

"Fred, and it's shit. I hate the name Fred, and I hate red hair, and freckles."

"Why is it that when you hit 30 you can't choose your fucks, other than choosing between redheads, fat asses and god damned gay straight men?"

"Have you looked at the 20 year old sluts? I'm not so sure I wouldn't fuck them."

I stared into him, memorizing his square jawbone, all but falling into his green, lifeless eyes. I gently traced his slightly parted lips with my thumb. I leaned my head down, hovering over his. The tip of my nose brushed the tip of his as my hair fell down and brushed his cheeks. I imagined what he would look like without his long-past-five-o-clock shadow, which he would probably shave off when they found my body, if they found my body.

That's the scene from The Dreamers that I can't stop thinking about, for some reason. It's the most wonderful 30 seconds I've seen in a while.

The movie is one of those that's best to watch drunk and alone - perfect for alcoholics everywhere. It's NC-17, and for good reason. In the beginning, it made me want to visit France. By the end, I decided I don't really want to get anywhere near it.

There's a lot of sex, and some scenes are disturbing and uncomfortable. During the first one, I thought it was weird; during the second, really weird; and during the subsequent ones..."What the fuck" wasn't even good enough.

But I think that's the point. It's one of those movies that I can only imagine being shown in the independent theaters, the ones that serve wine, only take cash and constantly have causes they're trying to raise money for. I'm not sure if the movie was supposed to have subtitles or not. Some of it's in French, but my version didn't have any translations. I kind of liked it that way.

I wouldn't recommend it to everyone. But if you see it, try not to judge me for enjoying it.

"And do you know what my very first words were? New York Herald Tribune! New York Herald Tribune!"

I've gotten distracted by The Dreamers. I haven't got much written, hardly anything, to be honest. But I have another solitary night tomorrow - maybe I'll accomplish more. Until then:

She stood as two men in uniform entered the room, both taking off their National Guard caps and nodding grimly at the receptionist. One of them leaned down slightly, his tall, muscular body a half-body's length above the counter. He softly said two words, a name, and the wide-eyed receptionist reached for the phone.
Her phone beeped twice, and the receptionist quietly said her name. She didn't answer; she already knew they were there for her.
The man who spoke straightened and locked eyes with her as the receptionist hung up the phone, shaking her head, and asking him to sit and wait until she returned to her desk. He placed his cap onto the counter and began walking towards her, his partner in tow. They never broke eye contact as he maneuvered through the cubicles with two clenched fists.
She took a breath and tilted her head to the side. The man stopped in front of her but were both silent as he opened his right hand. Inside were two charred, disfigured metal pieces. She opened her palm and he gently dropped them into it, the dull sound of burnt metal clinking against burnt metal ripping through her heart. She gingerly ran her fingers over the nearly melted pieces, passing over the few letters of his last name and the last five digits of his social security number – the only legible markings left.
“Was it bad?” she asked, her voice sounding stronger than she thought it would.
The man looked down and to his left, licking his lips briefly and taking a short breath before looking back at her, silent. She nodded and closed her hand over her brother's remains.
“Thank you.”
He squinted his eyes and briefly glanced to his left again.
“I mean it,” she said. “Thank you.”

****

My sister's boyfriend is fucking around. And everyone knows it but her.

He lives 1,000ish miles away. He's 12 years older than her. He told her that he's getting tested for STDs, even though she's clean (or was) and they don't have unprotected sex, and they haven't seen each other since Julyish. Maybe he's being safe. But everyone (I included) is convinced he's fucking around - why wouldn't he?

He sent her a package today with some running gear or something and she was all happy. I just hope she doesn't build her life around him like she was planning a bit ago, because I'm sure he's not doing the same.

I'm a bitch for saying this, but - karma.

I think I'll designate my night of independence my writing night.

To: IT 'Professional'

Thank you for ignoring me for the third consecutive week. I'm sure this ignorance will fix the computer issue that I have been asking about for six weeks, and I'm sure that you think you're correct when you say it's my fault and I need to restart my computer - again. Yes, I do have breasts, but don't think they make me stupid. I almost feel bad that your dick gives you a sense of entitlement.

I know you're not correct, and I understand how distracting my intelligence-sucking-breasts are, but if you focus, I can help you. It's pathetic that I know more about your job than you do. It's even more pathetic that you don't realize this, and that you don't take the time to learn how to do your job.

For the third consecutive week, I will send a letter to administration, who will send you a request, which you will ignore - for the third consecutive week. But until you get your arrogant ass off of your smug high horse, you'll keep getting requests and I'll keep calling and you'll keep staring at my breasts as you twirl your stupid pen in your hand and picture whatever the hell you want to in that vacant head of yours.

You'll tell me not to download anything, after I haven't downloaded anything, and I'll smile while telling you to fuck off in my mind. And you'll walk away, and I'll restart, and the computer will work long enough for me to send in another request.

Thank you.

Why Do You Want To Leave Me?

Sometimes, it's not about you.

Tonight is my night off from J. I kind of want to grab some ciggies and drive around. After 5, there's hardly anyone out here - all the work people go home to their suburbs, etc. It's actually quite nice, and I bet it would be nice to drive around with the windows down in this weather. Though I'd have to fill up on gas. Consumers around here panic easily, and stations are running out.

I want it to be in mid-October in my city.

My co-worker, CP, is interesting. Not really in the good way most of the time, but sometimes he's so ridiculous that you can't help but be amused. Most of the time it involves him either being late to work or leaving early to work - sometimes both.

Today's reason for leaving the office at 1:45 involves the apartment he's moving out of this weekend. He said the exterminator is coming this afternoon, but he doesn't know when, and he wants to make sure the guy doesn't steal anything. This is one of the more believable ones. I don't know much about apartments, so this could be totally normal, but do exterminators go inside? I have no idea. Actually, I think they do. So I'll make this a credible excuse.

For the past three weeks his reasons have revolved his wisdom teeth. The first week, he wasn't in because he was supposed to get his teeth pulled but didn't because he had an infection and had "massive" tooth pain. The second week it was because of his tooth pain (he spent most of the time "working from home"). Last week it was because he was actually going to get them pulled this time. He spent Monday through Wednesday at home, got his teeth pulled Thursday, and came in Friday completely fine, minus the bloody cloths (I vomited in my mouth a bit).

But my most favorite reason for him coming in two-and-a-half hours late was from a few months ago. He told me (from home, still not at work) that he was going to the post office located next to a RadioShack, and outside of the RadioShack there was this woman who was holding up a sign. As he approached the store, the woman told him to read this paper, which was all about how RadioShack forced her son to sell drugs, which caused her to lose her house (for some reason) and have a heart attack (for some reason) and that RadioShack physically beat her on three different occassions.

He wrote*:

"So I told her to chill out and be rational, and she started SCREAMING about how it's not fair what they did to her. So the dude in RadioShack saw and he came out and was like, 'Do you want me to call the police?' I said no because I was walking away anyway. The RadioShack guy walks out and she PUNCHES HIM IN THE FACE. So like, I grab her and throw her against the wall, and I'm like, 'Don't move,' and he runs inside and calls the police. And I had to give a statement, and had to come home to switch clothes because I sweated so much."
*Grammar and spelling corrected.

So yeah, that's pretty crazy, and I'm a skeptic. So I ask him which RadioShack it was and what the customers in RadioShack were doing, and he said they were just looking outside all scared and stuff.

Call me a bitch, but I called the RadioShack and they don't open until 10. I asked if there had been some woman going crazy there earlier, and he said no. Of course, it could be that he said no because it's bad publicity, or something.

As much as I think he should work the amount of hours that he claims on his paysheet, I'm glad he's not here, and I'm glad that he comes up with these stories. Pulling a faux private investigator gives me something to do, at least.

"My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes."

[Sadness]

I'll Come Up Hot On A Piss Test

Today is LR's birthday. He's in Iraq with second and third degree burns after something; he's not "permitted" to give details.

LR is my brother, not by blood, but by choice. We met two years ago in a creative writing class. I thought it odd that a soldier was in a class like that, but after reading his stuff, I realized why it was a good fit.

He was the first soldier I ever met, outside of family friends MJ (who is still in Iraq; this is his fourth tour) and DM (on his sixth tour), and I was infatuated with his fatigues and with his really, really fast car. I was chain smoking again, fresh out of a relationship and at that stage where I didn't realize the good in the breakup.

As part of our class, we were required to attend a poetry reading on campus, but we were the only ones from our class there; everyone else was either a professor or an elderly person, all coming to see the equally elderly, monotonous man read about clocks, or something.

The thing with where I live, storms pretty much come out of nowhere, do their stuff, and leave - sometimes within the span of 10 or 15 minutes. One of these storms came through right as the poetry reading was ending, and I was all but dead after 45 minutes of this old guy and clocks and no cigarettes.

So I stood under the baby of an overhang and just inhaled continuously as rain splashed everywhere but onto my cigarette, which I was covering religiously with my other hand. LR came out and made fun, then asked where I was headed.

"Sullivan, other side of campus," I said.

"Are you walking?" he asked. I nodded. "I could give you a ride, I'm parked at the gym." (The gym was about halfway across campus, he was lucky enough to have gotten a parking place there right after the Parking Ticket Nazis got off duty).

"Can I smoke?" I asked. My world revolved around the nicotine. I could easily smoke half a pack on the walk to my dorm.

"Sure, sure," he nodded. "Come on."

About half-an-hour and 5ish cigarettes later, we were still walking. The rain storm had stopped, and I regretted jumping in the puddles like a dumbass, the bottom of my bell bottoms weighing about three times what they should.

"I usually park right here," he said, his hands on his waist, "but I remember that this lot was full..." He trailed off.

"I could just walk home, it's not a big deal," I said, thinking that I could have been at home with roommate LA by now.

"No, no..." He sighed. "Let's try one more place." We walked into the parking deck where the athletes park, up three levels, and finally found his car, the only one left on the level.

He grinned. I rolled my eyes.

We got into his insanely spotless car and drove off.

"You like fast cars?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Never been in one fast enough to tell."

He nodded. "Part of the reason I'm in the military is because I got into trouble down in Florida for hot wiring cars and then racing them."

"Mmm," I said skeptically.

"You don't believe me?" he smiled.

I shook my head as I lit another cigarette and rolled down the window.

"Okay, sometime then," he said.

"Sometime what?"I asked.

"I'll show you what a fast car is like."

I exhaled through my smile, thinking he was full of shit.

He dropped me off at my apartment several minutes later, after I gave him my number. I was trying hard to play it cool, the ciggies helped, but inside I was ecstatic. Something about a man in uniform, I guessed...


J is here. More later. Maybe.

Serene Sunday

TRIPLE COUPON DAY at Harris Teeter!!!

I Signed You Up

I'm looking at this program in my city, where you basically pay a tuition and go to maybe a class or whatever and they hook you up with internships all over the city. It's something to think about, and I can afford the tuition and everything if I work at it, but the problem is the rent. My city is a special city, and it would cost $1,030 a month to live there. And that's not even the best part, it's the only part where you won't get shot - at least, that's what I can tell from the map.

So, yeah, that's a little less than twice what I'm paying now. And I can probably expect to make less doing an internship. I should win the lottery, that'll fix everything.

My sister's in my city for a wedding this weekend, and I'm very jealous, especially because it's turning Fall-y and getting cooler. But I'm planning on going next month when the leaves change, that'll make it so super pretty. And my uncle will be back in town after his safari.

I have these really big windows next to my cubicle, so I set my camera up and videotaped these pretty clouds, and I wanted to upload them and speed them up, you know how it looks all cool in the movies and stuff, but it takes a long time for a 87 minute film clip to upload. But this is a clip. And it's not going as fast as I want. But at least it's pretty!



Also, I've been going through all the videos I've taken since I got my camera at Christmas, and I think I'm going to make all these little videos of the videos I took. If that makes sense. I'm glad I video tape so much.

Wordless Wednesday

"I'm kind of a novelty, and I'm kind of a big deal."

I'm not big on fashion. Really. I bought my first pair of knee-high boots freshman year in college, then returned them, only to start to appreciate them when I bought some again a year later. I love heels, but I'm not sure what size heels go with which outfit. And I'm too afraid to cut my hair in a "new style" because...it's my hair. I love it.

But kill me for knowing (and caring) that my friend went to NYC for a job interview and saw Christian Siriano. Yes. Him. But apparently my friend, WF, didn't really care, and didn't speak with him. But he's got a really interesting sense of humor and I want to remember his conversation, so I'm putting it here (deal with it):

WF: Yeah, well I didn't realize until I got there that I would be interviewing in the city during Fashion Week..

WF: All these hip, colorfully dressed folks living it up in a realm to which I did not have the key

WF: But I was hanging out with my friend Tim, former DTHer who's done some freelancing with fashion photog...

WF: He's got contacts with these promoters who give him free shit, and they sent us an invite to

WF: The address, though, just leads us to what I swear is or very recently used to be a meat locker

WF: No sign, no windows, no nothing

WF: Just a steel door near Times Square with a burly gentlemen out front

WF: We give him our names, he checks the list, and we're sent on a trek down this long, winding hallway with minimal light

WF: And I swear, there were even meat hooks dangling from the ceiling

WF: Designed to hold those who wore white after Labor Day, I imagine

WF: But eventually we reached this elevator and the operator just nodded to us and we zoomed up 20 floors or so

WF: The doors open, and we emerge into this swinging party on the roof, overlooking Manhattan

WF: Models, designers, yuppie businessmen types

WF: All wearing outfits whose number of colors apparently represent status in the way that rings on a tree represent age

WF: Against the really loud hip hop music, they're all trying to prove their supreme importance to people who are simultaneously trying to prove theirs

WF: And here I was, in a sweater vest my mom bought me

WF: A pilgrim in an unholy land

WF: Friggin miserable

WF: I couldn't even appreciate it when it was pointed out that this winner from Project Runway was there

WF: Christian something-or-other

E: No...way...Christian Siriano? *hates you*

WF: Yeah, see, I never even would have noticed him

WF: Anyway, my plan was the same as it was with funerals, failed exams, and bar mitzvahs - drink the boredom away

WF: But that quickly stopped when they charged me 20 friggin bucks for a martini

WF: So now I had to face these people dead on sober

WF: But I was able to turn it into a game which I greatly enjoyed

WF: Just try to piss as many of them off as possible

WF: Tried to convince one model why a good career move would be to become the face of Sears...

WF: Detailed to some designer guy my ideas for a new line of headwear:

WF: "It's just hats...on top of other hats"

WF: "Like, a totem pole of hats!"

WF: "Held together with possibly caramel"

WF: "i haven't figured that part out yet"

WF: When you take these people's careers anything less than stone-faced serious, they become visibly annoyed

WF: It was awesome

WF: So I feel that I left with their grudging respect under my belt

WF: One step further inward the NYC social scene


And then, he gave the best quote ever:

"No one ever layed on their deathbed thankful they always flew coach."

That's Too Bad, Kinda Been Savin' Up

So I just looked at my credit card, and the awesome movie-bowling combination I had planned for today is shot. At least until I pay a few hundred tomorrow. So I'm watching TV and probably should be cleaning. But "Brothers Grimm" comes on in a few hours! YAY!

J is staying over for the new few days. He's got some research conference at a hotel near my place for the next few days, so instead of paying he's going to be staying with me. Which means we'll be spending almost every night together this week....I'm both excited and not. I do like my alone time.

Okay. I'm going to go hunt for my broom.

Yeah I Know, I Did That Two Minutes Ago

I've been sick. And I just got back from a two-day work retreat. So I haven't posted (obviously) but I figure those are good excuses.

The work retreat was okay. I didn't know many people, there were only about 40 from the firm there, but during dinner the owner and big shot put down his credit card at the bar and everyone got free drinks. Maybe it was because I was intoxicated, but I really got to meet some cool people. Of course, this morning at breakfast, everyone went back to their cliques, and some people pretended they didn't know me. Lawyers.

Tomorrow I'm going bowling with my new bowling ball. I named it Humpty Beastmaster. Long story. But after that I'm probably just going to relax a bit. I know I should deep clean my apartment, but I'll put it off until next weekend. Maybe I'll get some writing in.

But I do think I'm going to watch Friends and then go upstairs and fall asleep to Bambi or something...maybe Aladdin.

"You need to have a little guts and live life. And not be a scared little bunny forever.

Little bunny E."

He's Getting Pretty Interesting

I'm over a J's. We watched "The Sarah Conner Chronicles" with him and his roommates and one of his roommate's former love interest, and I'll admit it wasn't a terrible show. Much better than I thought it would be, but that's not saying much.

Afterwards his roommate, B, went to his late-night soccer game, and his other roommate, A, and his not-girl, C (I can't remember her name, that's a fake initial), started talking with J about stuff. What stuff? Good question.

Anyone who knows me knows I'm borderline ADD - I can't sit through a meeting at work without staring out the window or zoning out or biting the hell out of my pen top while tapping my leg. I just hate it. Also, anyone who knows me know that I never really grasped the whole science and math subjects. So when these guys start talking about electrons and Descartes (his mathematical contributions, not his philosophical) and these other things that I really don't know much about, I don't really do much other than sit there and zone out, occasionally offering a delayed, empty laugh when everyone else laughs.

Eventually I said goodnight and carried my book upstairs - my new book - and I think J and A weren't quite happy about it. I wasn't mean about it, just said I was going upstairs and for them to have a good night, even through in a little sing-song tone, and left. But there is a guest here, and I do feel bad for leaving her down there, but she's one of those smart-dorks like they are (and I don't mean that in a bad way).

I'm lucky. I know I'm lucky, everyone tells me I'm lucky, to be with J. He's way, way too good for me, and I know it, I just don't know if he knows it quite yet. Sometimes I think he does know it, but just has me around as a screw that he loves, but in a "I'm-not-quite-sure-I-wouldn't-leave-you-if-someone-smarter-and-more-mathy-came-along" way. That's terrible of me to think.

Okay. This is turning into a rant. Another one. About J again. I don't really care right now though. Three things:

1. My first screws were with an engaged then married man. Outsiders thought he was the nicest person, which he was, to them, but he was unfaithful.

2. The secretary at the law office just married a big-shot attorney. She's made it pretty clear that her goal in life is to move up - she started as a rock bottom slave, essentially, from Mexico, so really anywhere was up, but this is a big up - and I have no idea how happy these guys are, if they are. I don't really ever see them smile, and they bicker a lot.

3. As I was leaving home this weekend, my dad gave me a big hug and said, "I can't believe you're leaving me here with your mother." He's joked about this before, sure, but it was something about the way he said it that really has been tearing at me.

I don't know if I believe in the true happy love that I used to. What if the best love you can get is the tolerant love, the kind that you just deal with, the kind that doesn't make you so amazingly happy that you're just that - happy - all the time? What if I have found the only kind of love there is? If I have, I'm disappointed.

Not in J. He's a great guy who's who he is, and he shouldn't change. So then, I guess the problem is me.

I'm going to stop here. I've got a new murder mystery.

I Made Plans To Be With You

Back at work. I'm having a hard time concentrating.

I did notice that I have these a little blister on two of my fingers. They're not painful or anything, and I don't know how I would have gotten them. So I looked stuff up and fibromyalgia came up and I meet some of the symptoms, though I don't know how many other things have the same symptoms, and so now I'm freaking out and have to set up a doctor's appointment. This is why it's bad to work in a law office - you get paranoid about everything.

I spent the weekend at home with my family for my sister's birthday. I found out that she wants to move out of her city, and one of the three places she's narrowed her move down to is my city - my city. I've wanted this city forever, and if she moves there (just to get over a screw she thinks is love) then everyone's going to think that I did it to be like my big sister *massive eye roll*. It's frustrating. I know it's stupid to be possessive of a city. But it's mine.

Ugh. Back to work.

Love Me Cancerously

Odd how whenever I go out of town, he has friends to go out with, but when I'm in town, he has to study/save money/whatever. He always gets worried about the wrong things at the wrong time, but when he should be worried, he's oblivious/indifferent. I'm liking the slashes (/'s) tonight.

I want him to go out and be himself with friends. I also want to go out with him - alone or with friends. Too much to ask? Again?

We found a loophole with my dream city. I told him I want to move there. He said he doesn't. But, once he finishes his PhD, he said he wouldn't mind being a professor at a college, and there's one very, very near my city. I want my city. It's one of the few things I'll not compromise. Let's see where this goes.

In the meantime, I'll enjoy my tissues and soup.

I am...what's the word...alive.

After work I played as a substitute on the company softball team and it was really awesome. On the way to the place I noticed this weird little noise coming from my car, but figured I would just get it checked out when I get my oil changed tomorrow.

About halfway home, on the Interstate, in the dark, my tire blew out. was only driving about 60 mph at the time, instead of my usual 80, and was in the middle lane. The car swerved a bit to the right, and I almost sideswiped the tractor trailer next to me, but managed to pull it back and slow down enough to get to the side without killing myself or anyone else. Cue panic attack.

I finally got my wits about me and called J, who said he was on his way, then called AAA, who said they would be there in 45 minutes - this was after about 20 minutes of them asking me to repeat where I am, confirming I had a spare tire and other bullshit they had me doing while standing on the shoulder.

A car pulled up, coming from the opposite direction, driving on the shoulder, and this guy steps out. I know, I know, I'm paranoid, but the only things I could think about were the horror stories of girls who DIE in situations like this. So he starts walking over, I'm wishing I had my gun, and J pulls up. He and the guy talk and J says we're fine, and the guy drives away. Phew. So J changes my tire and I'm on a donut right now.

I think it's a sign, because when the tire blew out I was thinking about how to end things with J, or at least start the conversation about ending things with J, and how I loved him, etc. And then it blew out, and I escape death and destruction. Then he shows up right as this potential rapist/murderer (probably not, I know). I believe in signs, so I'll consider this as one.

Big sigh. Now I have to get a new tire and be late to work tomorrow, which means I'll work late. But I'm breathing and all my extremities are in tact, so I'll consider it a good day.

Okay, well, I'm done. I've done all I can really do on it right now. There's only about 2 hours left in my 3 days, so I'm just going to drop it and not read it anymore and just live with it. For now. :)

I've got 50 pages and 13,946 words. Though, to be fair, I did that whole page break thing before a new chapter starts, so it's not really 50 pages.

But I'm done. And my finger hurts.

So, I hate to admit it. But I'm totally procrastinating. I woke up not really wanting to finish the story, and I didn't know why. But I sat down and thought about it (over coffee from Hawaii- best evar...) and I think it's because I'm the most pathetic person on the planet. I love my characters, even if they're not credible or suck to other people, and I don't want to miss themmmmmm. YES. I SAID IT.

Sigh.

Update (1:14 PM): So I've added stuff. Progress is being made (I just used passive voice). The story will be rushed in the end, mainly just because I want to make the connections between points a, b, c and d. Stories could always use filler, etc. in between the connections, but, yeah, rough draft. I do love Pandora.

Update (2:17 PM): I'm up to 11,847 words. I'm slightly sad because it's really more of a novella than a novel, and it's not good because now I'm worried I didn't get enough character development, etc. But I still have a few scenes left, which I could probably get up to 20,000 words, which is still short. But at least I'll have some kind of start. And I already know how I can make it longer, I just have to do research and stuff. I just won't have time this go around. But that's okay. I have the main plot points down.

CELEBRATE!!! I'm at 10,000 words!! HAHA!

Update (10:43 PM): Phew. I just wrote the final chapter. And I am legitimately sad. I'm not sure if it's because they're the coolest friends I've had, or because of all they've been through (that I haven't written yet), or because I'm listening to Beth Waters. But I feel both very sad and very loved, which is sad, considering these people aren't real. Even my awesome novel boy.

Update (11:07 PM): I'm tired. I think that last chapter drained it all out of me. I'm off for the night with 10,200 words. I've never written this much before, so I'm pretty psyched. :) I've got 21 hours left from now, so it'll either be rushed or whatever. But I'm already kind of proud of myself with what I've got. The rest is just a plus. :)

Everything We Have Is All We Need

So, I've gotten a late start, mostly because I'm putting off all the big writing I have for today. I've got sex, drama, and I haven't decided if I'm going to kill off one of the characters - it would work, and I guess it should happen, but I really like this character. It's like on "Stranger Than Fiction."

Good thing I've got another 12-13 hours before I fall asleep again.

Update (1:08 PM): Whew, sex scene done. I need a ciggie. It's a short one, not much detail, and I haven't decided if I'll keep it yet or not. But yay! I wrote my first sex scene evar!

Update (2:44 PM): So I did a bad thing. I changed the direction of my story again. Which sucks, because I spent the last almost-two hours rewriting what I had to make it fit. But, I think it'll be a lot better now. That's it - no more changes.

Update (2:56 PM): Oh. Shit. I've been sidelined due to a wasp/hornet/insect of death that apparently has a hard on for the new table I bought for my balcony. I grabbed the only thing I had, Windex, and sprayed it, but I think it just pissed it off and now it's hovering around my door. Jesus. Christ.

Update (5:31 PM): So, I'm taking a bit of a break. I feel like I'm about to fall asleep for some reason, and I'm afraid I've written myself into a corner. Hopefully I can wake up and write out of it!

Update (6:53 PM): Just spoke with the parents and the sister, who are having awesome time at the beach, those fuckers. And I told them that I was writing a murder-ish story, and they told me to write something else. Um. No. I'm okay. I don't think I've ever written this much before, so even if it sucks, I've done something I haven't before. So shit on your face!

Update (6:55 PM): My mother just called back and said not to let them discourage me. She's sweet.

Update (8:15 PM): I'm writing the climax of my story now. Because it's exciting to me. And I'm tired of the little parts. But I'm conflicted. Because it's a scene where somebody has to save somebody (yeah yeah, cliche, etc. I don't give a shit it's my book and I love love love those stories). Okay, so, the conflict is that I can't decide if the boy should save the girl. Because that's my favorite. Ever. But boys always save girls. And will I be betraying my feminist mother if I don't have a girl save a boy?

Sigh. I WANT DIP.

Update (9:25 PM): I'm in love with my boy character. Not only because of what he's done in the novel, but also because of what I know he would do in real life. He'd be totally awesome. I wish he were real. God. I posted a lot today.

I'm Getting Old And I Need Something To Rely On

Things are...happening, at least, in my story. I'm currently sitting outside on my balcony where there's a massive thunderstorm - it's fantastic, aside from the little sprays that occasionally make their way onto my screen.

I haven't made too much progress. I've only written 10 pages so far today, but I feel like I now have a much better grasp on where my story is going and where it's been (ha). Now I just need to get it down on paper. :)

Back to it...

Update (9:50 PM): So I slowed down, as well. The problem is that I'm significantly behind. I've gotten some good stuff, I think. I started in the middle, really, so I've got to expand it to encompass everything. Even if I don't finish, and even if the rest of it is crap, I'm pretty pleased with what I've got so far.

I am, however, getting a little freaked out. There's violence in my story, and I'm getting really into it, so this weekend of seclusion is looking a little scary now.

Hooya!

Update (10:18 PM): Okay, so I got totally distracted by a phone call from the parents. I skipped out on a beach weekend for this, and they hadn't heard from me all day (which is weird) and they were calling to make sure I hadn't "written myself into my grave." They're so cute.

I've got five major major scenes to work on before I start filling in the gaps, etc. My goal is to FINISH at least one tonight.

And thank you god for that storm - it's all nice and cool out now.

Okay back to work.

Update (11:40 PM): I've decided to included a sex scene. I figure, I like sex, and I like stories with sex in them, so I should write a story with sex in it. No?

That is all.

Update (12:48 PM): Done for the night! I got a measly 7,000-ish words today, which doesn't compare with some over-achievers here (COUGH). But I've got a real direction now, too. So not all is lost!

I'll see you on the flip side...

Send Me The Miles - I'll be Happy To

No one has heard from my friend yet. It's worrying me, but this writing thing is serving as a good distraction. I've got 264 words so far, and I think it all sucks, but I'm sticking with it. This is about finishing - the holes can be filled in later.

This is totally going to be harder than I thought.

Update (10:01): Oh. My. God. This is really frustrating. Only at 1042 words.

Update (1053): Okay. I'm going to stop for the night. Getting a migraine (FUCK YOU MIGRAINE) and I'm kind of wiped out from stuff today. But I'm going to start fresh early tomorrow. :) Good luck to participants - I'm very much anticipating the end of this!

My friend from work is missing. Apparently I was the last one to see her last night. Sigh. I hope she's just playing hooky.

That's A Very Inefficient Way To Kill Somebody

My thanks to Barefoot - the advice and listening ear were much, much appreciated. I have a lot to think about, now.

But I had my bowling night tonight. I didn't bowl very well, but managed to be consistent. There's an attorney who bowls and who I work with at least once a week. He's a great guy, one of the nice ones, which is hard to find, and very not unattractive. I found myself almost flirting, and I almost got the same vibe from him. Though, I don't know if he's just being nice and friendly or not. Oh, and he's married. I always seem to be attracted to those.

The thing that I like about him is that he's himself, he's nice, and he's not afraid to be either one. He wore this hat tonight, and looked goofy, in a cute way. I want a guy like that, who does things on his own but who would enjoy doing things with me too, and who can just be himself and a great person at the same time. Maybe someday.

Is there any hope of pleasing him? Nope. Fuck that. Weeks later and he still brings it up. Fuck this shit. I'm tired of regretting living.

That's what we need going into the millennium. We need some positive, happy stuff.

Whew! I cut my mile down by 1.5 minutes! Yay sweat. :) I think the treadmill's more fun after a drink. I'm sure neighbors below hate me.

In other news, today was the most productive day I've had this month. I think it might be because neither C nor L were there, but maybe it was also because of my quarterly review. The CFO said I wasn't assertive enough, and that I didn't seem eager to learn (even though an attorney said I was eager to learn).

In other news, I tried to make cornish hens last night. Yeah, didn't work out. I managed to get all the giblets out, but I stuck them on the grill at too high a heat and nuked them. Oh well. Luckily I had some chicken on standby.

And this weekend is the writing weekend! I'm psyched. I've been keeping this little notepad with all my ideas on it - it's gotten huge. They don't all go together, so I'll have to be super awesome and figure them out. But I'm very excited that I get to write for an entire weekend.

Now I'm off to make little baby pasta. Small things amuse me (but of course there are exceptions).

And I'd Rather Die Than Live That Way

I'll get straight to it and say I'm in the middle of a could-be crisis. Surprise! It seems like everything seems like a crisis these days. But really, can I live like this? Not forever. I think we're both settling at this point.

I consistently feel that J is getting tired of me, as I am him. We exchange these little snide comments, and I increasingly am feeling that he's arrogant. I'm probably the stupidest girlfriend he's had, and I don't know if that's good (because he's no longer with him) or bad (because he's settling).

When I mentioned that I want to live in my dream city, that there are actual jobs there that relate to my dream job, he gives off a list of reasons why the city sucks, why people are stupid to want to work there and live there.

I'm one of those people who needs criticism and who needs people to say I can't do something for motivation. So I'll apply to these jobs. What will happen if I get them? I don't know. But I know that if things aren't meant to be between us, that it'll be hard for me to break it off. I don't know if I can break it off, to be honest, because of the love thing and no one wants to hurt someone they love. But I'm also one of those people who takes the easy way out - just being honest - and having a job in a place where he despises seems like a good way for things to end - no hard feelings.

Yep, this is my life. But good news - I got more rum. :)

I Know It's Easy To Say But Harder To Feel This Way

I haven't spoken to J all day. That's become pretty much the standard. If I'm not at his place, or he's not at mine, for the night, I'll send a text telling him goodnight, he'll respond with a "Sleep well," and that's it. It's weird. Because I'm equally happy and unhappy about it. I'm happy because I don't have to worry about some things that would upset either one of us, and I'm unhappy because I do love him, and for some reason something hurts.

But a friend of mine found this song that I've pretty much fallen in love with. Oh, and we're both really diehard "Grey's Anatomy" fans (don't hold it against me), so I'll leave with this video:

It's terrible to find out that monsters are real.

In other news, my first bowling night was tonight. I finished second on my team, and my team kicked the other team's ass - 3 times. So I'm pretty happy.

That is, really, all that's up. Maybe I'll write more tomorrow.

Fucking Calm Down Man, It's Soccer - It's Soccer

Yay for a 60-minute power walk! Only about 3mph, but it's the fastest I've been able to do it so far, and the longest. I love endorphins - this thing is slowly becoming addicting.

Two days from now and I'll be having my first day of Bowling League competition! I don't think I've been this excited since graduation. I even have cute little shoes.

In other news, I've got about 15 different possible routes my story can take. I'm sure I'll forget some before Labor Day weekend, but it's good to be thinking about it at least. I'm super psyched about it.

And that's all I've got - "Superbad" is on and it's one of my favorite movies to watch over and over (along with "Finding Nemo").

To Be Left Out In The Dark

J and I had this really pointless and random argument last night - short story, sometimes he says things that make me feel stupid. J's one of the smartest people I've ever met. He knows the answer to almost everything. But every once in a while he'll say something that just, it isn't constructive, borderline disrespectful, and I finally called him out on it last night. Now we're over it. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or disappointed.

Anyways. I found several job postings for jobs I want to do in the city I want to live in. I've been thinking about applying, but I don't know. I had this dream last night that I had a baby and it was so awesome; I woke up really happy. If I moved away, I don't know if things would with out with J. Good or bad? I don't know. I'm not settling, I don't think. I don't know if he is or not. But I want so many different things right now. It's so confusing.

In other news, I'm apparently a good dancer. If only I could remember how I danced... :)

Is this really the beginning of the end? It's painful either way.

Why can't I learn to keep my mouth shut?

Holla We Want Prenup

Well, last night was awesome. The pictures, not so much.

I spoke with J this morning, who told me he was upset with me because he couldn't get in touch with me and had to wait until 4 in the morning to go to sleep (because he wanted to make sure I got home okay). I told him I was dancing and having fun, and wasn't really looking at my phone all the time, and that he didn't have to wait up for me. And he never heard what I said about the guy following us, thank god, because I was in a parking deck and kept going out. Eh. Whatever.

The best part of the night was when my friend, T, told off C and told him to leave her apartment. It was fantastic! He was calling her a bitch and saying she deserved to get hit because she and her boyfriend both cheated on each other (to be fair, he was really emotionally abusive and the relationship was pretty much over a good six months before it happened). So while crying, she told him to get the fuck out of her apartment, he yelled back, she yelled back, and it went like that for a few until C looked like he was going to hit her, at which point a friend stepped in and pretty much ushered him out of the place. I felt like a bitch for busting out laughing when the door closed behind him, while T was crying and everyone else was feeling awkward and weird. But I thought it was hilarious.

I did manage to get three or four guys to buy me drinks (lost count). One guy, an insurance broker named Peter, bought me one after seeing my awesome dance moves, and then asked to go into the "back room" with him. Duh, of course not. So I said "Let me go ask my boss" (C and L were both there) and just danced with other people the rest of the night. Fun fun. I do feel a bit like a bitch for leading the guys on just to get a drink, but...okay I'm just a bitch.

One guy was hitting on T hard and followed us to her apartment after the bar closed. So I told him to leave. Little weird, and I'm scared because he knows where she lives now, but she said she can take care of herself.

But yes, good night overall. I'm now up north at my sister's place with her and my parents, where we went to one of her work's family get together things. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. And we're leaving to see "Tropic Thunder" in a few. Score.

I haven't talked to J since this morning when he said he was still a little pissed at me. I don't really intend to talk to him until I see him tomorrow night, if I even go over there. I'm tired of not having a life, so I don't feel bad about it. Maybe I should. But if he wants to be less worried, he can come next time. Le sigh.

Check out MIA's song "Paper Planes." I love.

So what happened tonight?

Even I don't know, though I do remember select moments:

* Drinking
* Dancing
* Getting three (maybe four) guys to buy me drinks (placing me in second)
* Manning up and telling one guy to leave my friend's apartment
* Witnessing an amazingly awkward (and verbal) conflict between a good friend and C
* Feeling like I've pissed J off.

Granted, I am still drunk while writing this (thank God for spellcheck) but the thing with J is that he's studying for a test he may not take (long story) and I'm out until 4 am without contacting him, and he's worried because I drunkenly tell him there's a guy following us.

Maybe tomorrow I'll make more sense of this.

Hello, Goodbye

This is my 50th post. :) Random.

So tonight I am going out with friends. Yes, OUT. I haven't been out since...forever. And I bought a new little black dress and I've got the makeup on and the hair done and I'm psyched. Dinner, dancing and drinking. J wont' be there, he's studying, so this other girl and I have this bet going about who can the most guys to buy drinks for her. Poor guys...

YAY!

I'm laying in bed as my boyfriend's roommate is strumming his new guitar in his room. He's trying to drown out his guitar sound with "Family Guy" on the big screen upstairs, but I can still hear it, and I love it. It's hard not to think of Sova.

I apologize for the depressing and serious posts lately. I've been thinking of a therapist, but realized I don't want to pay, and that getting drunk and spilling my insecurities and depressions to my boyfriend works just as well (maybe).

On to happier things.

Tonight was the first night of my work bowling league, and I was the second best on the team with 108. Yeah, we're not that great, but it's all about having fun. :) I'm very glad to be doing something with people, instead of sitting around and watching them on my television. It's good for me. :)

Oh, but to sidetrack the happier things (already), I got a phone call from a coworker tonight at around 10 pm. I'll nickname him Rock Star, though I've spoken of him before. He was drunk, which I figured, so I didn't answer. He left me a message with sexual undertones, and demanded I apologize to him for not walking downstairs to speak to him on a regular basis. J thinks I should tell HR about it, more for documentation purposes than to get him in trouble. I don't know if I should or not.

He's the type of guy who, if he were to come in to work with a shotgun shooting at people, I wouldn't be surprised. Figures. I always seem to know the psychotic ones. But hopefully, he won't remember he made the call, and nothing will come of it.

I am truly excited about bowling. :) I feel happier than I've felt in a while. And tomorrow, I get to go dancing and drinking with friends. I'm uber excited. :)

And, like my friend Karp, I've had an epiphany: a story idea, that I am most looking forward to writing.

You Said All Your Papers Got Destroyed?

Read an interesting article that made me laugh:

SAN JOSE, California (AP) -- A grotesque comparison of a steamy love affair to a New York City street has won a Washington man this year's grand prize in an annual contest of bad writing.

Garrison Spik, a 41-year-old communications director and writer, took top honors in San Jose State University's 26th annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest with this opening sentence to a nonexistent novel:

"Theirs was a New York love, a checkered taxi ride burning rubber, and like the city their passion was open 24/7, steam rising from their bodies like slick streets exhaling warm, moist, white breath through manhole covers stamped 'Forged by DeLaney Bros., Piscataway, N.J."'

The first noteworthy submission listed in the article is my favorite.

It's phenomenal--like looking at someone with a mirror behind him

Sensitive post.

Maybe it's my buzz, or maybe it's because I don't know when I'll be able to have a night alone again, but thinking of Sova yesterday has only led me to think of F today. Again a reflection meant for myself, but it's my blog, and if I can't write and reflect here, where can I?

I do feel better already, though.

***

F wasn't a good friend of mine. By the normal definition, we weren't friends at all, but we had our way of doing things.

I met him during my freshman year in college. He lived on my floor, in the suite with all the guys who rigged their doors never to lock and who invited everyone over to watch "Family Guy" every weeknight. He wasn't the friendly type, keeping to himself and not uttering more than one word at a time, most times not uttering any word at all, just nodding quickly as he passed by.

My friendship with him really began when, during my second semester, my parents turned off my cell phone in response to my amazing rebellion, in which I boarded a plane and flew 3,000 miles to spend a weekend with my long-distance boyfriend. That alone would have been enough, but my lying to them made it worse; the truth was only revealed when my mother insisted on driving up to see me the same weekend, and I had to break it to her that her youngest daughter was actually in a city far, far away, living it up with a guy she didn't know.

In order to prove my self-sufficiency, I applied for several jobs in the area, convinced I could support myself and eventually move to Portland, where I would live with the boyfriend and vigorously enjoy myself. I was called in for an interview for a waitress position at an area country club, and an hour before it was scheduled to begin, I remembered I had no car. I phoned several local cab companies, only to find they didn't accept credit cards for fares less than $25. My fare would only be about $13, if that.

I quickly stilettoed my way down the hall, asking some guys if they could give me a ride. The ones who weren't in class said they either didn't have a car or were about to go to class, and I was about to lose my first battle with independence, when F said he could take me. I was ecstatic - now my independence could begin.

I walked downstairs with him, and walked another 50 yards or so (in stilettos) to his parking space in the off-campus lot, only to find his car wasn't there.

"Shit," I heard him mumble. "Where did I park?"

I stifled a laugh. We began walking back towards the dorm parking lot, with him mumbling to himself the whole time, retracing his steps from the weekend when Campus Police didn't write tickets. He remembered he parked by the baseball field, and hoped he didn't get a damn ticket.

We finally found his car - ticket-free - and began our journey. I told him where to turn, and he drove up a long semi-circle driveway and dropped me off at the entrance to the ritzy club. I thanked him, he said no thanks necessary, and drove off. I walked inside, had my interview (in which I admitted to having no waitressing experience, and all but laughed when the manager asked if I could balance dishes and glasses on a massive serving tray - with one hand), and left the building, feeling my first defeat.

It was then I realized I didn't have a way home. I ended up walking around, stopping at a pay phone at a gas station across from the artsy movie theater and called a cab, withdrawing enough cash from a nearby ATM to cover the fare.

At the time, F's presence wasn't too significant - he was there, and then he wasn't there, and that was that. But after a while I realized that I shared my first "real world" experience with him: rejection. If he wasn't there, I wouldn't have gotten the reality check that propelled me across the border into the brutal world, and I wouldn't have that experience to help me navigate through the rest of it.

Two semesters later, I had a class with him: History of the English Language. I sat behind F, and watched as he doodled characters in his notebook. He didn't take hand-written notes. Instead, he opted to whip out his digital camera and snap a copy of the notes the professor would project onto the white board. These notes would help me pass the course. He helped me, as well. I would come in to the classroom and see students hovering over their notes and the textbooks, fingers to their temples and their eyes darting across the pages. This signified a quiz or a test, the only notification I would receive, as I lost my syllabus the second week of the semester.

I'd sit down and sigh, and F would turn around, knowing I was lost again. He would show me the photos of the notes, and would explain the concepts so I could understand them. I felt bad, but justified my laziness by telling myself he was solidifying his knowledge of the subject by explaining it to me. He was the only reason I passed the course, I have no doubt about that. He was one of the most intelligent people I've met, even to this day.

I moved into an on-campus apartment my junior year. I would still see F occasionally, mostly nodding as we passed by on the way to and from classes. He hardly ever spoke, but over time he began to smile in passing.

I became good friends with his roommate, though I didn't know they were roommates at the time. Drew was a friend of several friends, but most notably a friend of my boyfriend, and we would sneak cigarettes together on my boyfriend's porch during the senior drink nights, as we were too young to participate.

In February, I got a text message from my boyfriend, saying he would be late. Drew's roommate was missing, and he left a suicide note. I texted back, asking what kind of car to look out for. Then I hit the road, chainsmoking and listening the radio with the windows down, looking for a green Honda in places I'd frequently gone to escape to. It was exciting to me because I spent many days procrastinating by following up on new missing persons cases, formulating my own theories, telling myself that I could be a detective one day.

About an hour into my search, my boyfriend called.

"I just got a chance to step away, Drew's family and his roommate's families are here," he said. He explained the roommate had been missing for several hours, and a note he left pointed to suicide. One of his guns was missing. I told him I was out looking, and asked the name of Drew's roommate. "F."

"You're lying," I said, almost flashing back to two years earlier, when someone else told me bad news about a friend. I told him about F, and he said he actually went to high school with him. He said he had to go, he had just wanted to check in.

I turned off the radio, but continued chainsmoking. I remembered a blog entry F had written before, one I had found while Internet stalking random people on my AIM buddy list. He said he wanted to go to the beach, that he had never seen it before. My grandparents had a house at the beach, and I figured I would just head that way, just so I could do something, really.

I texted my boyfriend and told him my plan. He texted back, "Don't bother. They found his body at Carolina Beach."

I don't remember driving home, and I don't remember walking into my apartment, ignoring my roommates when they said their greetings and making my way to my room. To be honest, I don't remember much else of that night.

The next day I spoke with my boyfriend, who had spent the night with Drew, making sure he was okay. He said F drove to the beach and shot himself in the head. A random person called the cops after seeing his body in the car.

Mutual friends and I believed it had everything to do with his family. His parents were hard on him, demanding perfection. We figured he had been pushed to the edge.

At his funeral, a preacher stood up and denounced his actions, saying there was a place waiting for him in hell. Thank God his sister stood up and tearfully told the preacher to shove it, despite her parents' disapproval; if she hadn't, others would have.

I don't think I'll soon, if ever, forget the look on F's mother's face as she watched two men lower his casket and body into the ground. She was holding on to her husband for support, nearly unable to stand on her own, with tears streaming down her face as her wide, scared eyes stared at the part of the casket where F's head was laying. When the casket had sunk several feet, she broke her grip on her husband's hands and slowly sank to her knees, reaching out and gently tracing the wood holding her son. Her right hand swept the top of the wood, back and forth several times, while her shaky left hand covered her mouth, but not enough to stifle her cries.

Her husband reached down, almost impatiently, and lifted her up, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her away, as the two men finished lowering his body.

I stood with Drew through the ordeal, my head leaning on his left shoulder, my arm around his back, both of our tears leaving wet drops on his collared shirt.

One year later I finally got the nerve to go see F's grave, but there was no place for me to leave my flower; he had no gravestone. Instead I placed it at the bottom of a nearby tree, figuring he'd know it was for him wherever I put it. Occasionally I drive by the graveyard, but I haven't been back since that day. There are some things I can only deal with one step at a time. But for now, I have to stop thinking "what if." It's what I always think when I think of him. What if I had been a better person, or if I could have made him laugh instead of nod? I have to keep telling myself that I can't think like that, because if I spend forever thinking of what I could have done to
save him, I might be failing someone else right in front of me.