The End of the Rainbow

I drove through the end of a rainbow tonight.  It was on the way to The Mormon’s house, and there was this huge rainbow taking up the entire sky.  It had been a while since I’d seen one that big.  And then as I took a curve, there were trees in front of me because I was about to take yet another curve, and I could clearly see the rainbow against the trees a few feet in front of me, straight down to the ground.  Dude.  Straight to the ground.  Have you ever seen that before?  I didn’t know it was possible to see that.  I didn’t think they really touched the ground.  But this one did!  It was amazing!  I looked up, just to make sure it was the same one, and it perfectly matched up with the huge rainbow in the sky.  I actually found the rainbow’s end.  Alas, there was no pot of gold there…but it had to be good luck or something, right?

In other news, last week, after a six-month hiatus from school, I finally started my very first class at UNF.  I didn’t know what to expect from it–it’s a pre-req., and all I knew was that it was called Themes & Types in Literature.  I didn’t even know what the theme was until I got in there and discovered that it was drama.

We get to act in my class.  How bloody cool is that!?  I got to act today, too, and I felt so hyper afterward!  I only had two lines, but still.

We were discussing text and subtext, and the teacher, Professor M., asked for four volunteers to be broken into two groups and perform these brief, five-line scenes.  I went out into the hallway with the other three volunteers, and she informed me and this guy, Quentin, that we were to perform it as a long-term couple who were breaking up, despite the fact that neither of us really wanted to.  At first I couldn’t get into it, because the only experience I have with long-term couples is The Mormon, whom I’ve been with for six months, and I never intend to break up with him.  But then I just pictured him telling me he wanted to break up, and suddenly my two lines sounded angry, and I thought, Wow…I miss acting!

Eventually I just decided to play it sad, so after we finished performing–and the class loved it, by the way, and gave us much applause–Professor M. said, “Did you all see all the emotions on Ginny’s face?” and I was all, Hell, yeah.

I miss acting.  But we get to perform a scene with groups, I believe from The Laramie Project, which is exciting, because I’ve seen this play twice and thought it would be fun to perform.  I turned to Kinnebrew (this guy I went to high school with whom I know can act, because he was in drama with me) and whispered, “You are so in my group for that.”  This scene will make up 30% of our grade.

So yeah, I’m excited; I think it will be fun.

That night at work, I informed Bob that I was hyper, and he said, “Wow, that isn’t like you at all”–but seriously, not sarcastically.  And I thought, Bob doesn’t know me at all, does he?  We’ve only been working together for two years, for crying out loud.

We served, on the same row, egg noodles, egg rolls, and eggplant tonight.  I noticed this after I’d been standing there for about thirty minutes, and wondered who would be the first person to order nothing but those three items.  It happened to be my friend Shawn, who returned today because he has a Summer B class.  He thought this was very funny.

Tomorrow I have to buy books, pay tuition/fees, and get a student ID.

Then, as it is the weekend, I get to see my boyfriend.  People at the cafe keep asking me if I work Friday or Saturday, and I’m like, “Fuck no.”  I see him twice a week, and I’m not sacrificing either of those two days.  And I figured out a way to make myself not feel guilty about telling them I can’t work those days–as he lives an hour away from me, I feel that I can honestly say that I go out of town every weekend.  It sounds better than, “I only get to spend time with my boyfriend twice a week, and you can’t take that away from me.”  I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before.

I realized something interesting yesterday.  For my entire life, I’ve felt weird hanging out with my friends around my family, which is why I don’t like hanging with people at my house, and I feel awkward introducing people to my parents–it isn’t that I’m embarrassed of them; it is that I feel weird because I’m two different people around friends and family, and I don’t know how to act.  And I didn’t know how to describe this phenomenon until yesterday, when I was mulling over it, and the words, “Worlds are colliding!” floated into my head, and I realized that the entire thing had been covered on an episode of Seinfeld.  Go figure.  And now I know exactly how to describe it to people, because Seinfeld makes perfect sense to me.  I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before!

All right, that’s it for tonight, because my eyes are all blurry and I have a headache.

…Suddenly I crave a lemon.  How odd.


My Quest for the Holy Grail

My dream last night had all this weird Christian imagery.

I was with some guy and girl, I don’t know who they were, and we were looking for the Holy Grail.  We were in some small town in like Germany or something…it kind of looked like Germany, from the buildings.  And every night we’d go into…I don’t know what it was.  It had stone walls, but it had grass growing up out of the floor, and it was really dark, and it was really, really big, and we’d get a little bit farther every night, but if we hadn’t reached the Grail by a certain time, I guess, we were sent back to the beginning.  We found the Ten Commandments and the Cross–the Ten Commandments and the Cross–but we couldn’t find the Grail.  We kept getting sent back, and eventually I was getting impatient and was all, “How many times do we have to pass the Ten Commandments and the Cross!?  Yes, they’re cool, but we have to find the Grail!”

We were all wearing Spanish Conquistador helmets, and there were like helmets strewn about the ground, many with arrows sticking out of them–big, heavy, metal arrows that could break through a helmet like that.  These represented the bodies of all the unworthy souls who had not made it to the Grail.  They had been slain by…I guess angels.  I think that’s what they were.

So one day, we’re standing by a wall, right near the Ten Commandments, and studying a map that we’ve been creating of this place, when one of those huge arrows flies right between two of us and pierces the stone wall.  We’re all a bit shaken as we look up and see an angel standing several yards away, staring at us solemnly, still holding the bow, which has another arrow in it.  He says that the unworthy one must come forward and meet him, because that one could no longer continue the search.

We all sort of looked at each other, questioning, but I knew, somehow, that I was not worthy.  And then the angel spoke right into my head, saying, “Come forth”, and so of course I had to.  He was pointing an arrow at me.

So I tentatively approached the angel, who had a sheet of paper or two, and a question.  I think it may have been a Bible verse.  Something about a path–oh!  I think it might have been Ezekiel 25:17!  You know, the one Samuel L. Jackson shouts at that guy in Pulp Fiction before blowing his brains out!  Anyway, I had to fill in the blank…something about the path of the righteous man, and how it was a metaphor for his life and his overall philosophy, and I remember some of the words–there were a lot–like, your path should be _____.  Some of the words he showed me were happy, lucky, right, divine….

I can’t remember which word I chose, but it was obviously the wrong word.  The angel didn’t shoot me, but he led me out of the whole…whatever it was…by the arm, and I think that may have meant that I died….  I’m not sure.  But either way, I wasn’t allowed to search for the Grail because my motives were impure.  See, I was only searching for it because I thought going on a quest–for the Holy Grail, of all things–would be fun.  Fun is not a correct motive to have to search for the Grail.  Apparently.

I love my dreams.

Stalkers Anonymous Strikes Back…Again: Part 2

After about forty-five minutes, he appeared at his car, and the excitement really began.

He pulled over into the gas station parking lot (“DUCK, GINNY!” Monica and Lisa yelled, but I merely scrunched down a bit–I wasn’t too worried about him recognizing me, and besides, I was wearing dark sunglasses) and parked.  Then he went inside.

“I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t go inside for those slushies,” Lisa said, because a couple minutes before, we had been considering doing just that.  “It would have been like, ‘Oh, hi, Mark, how are you?  I didn’t expect to see you here!'”

When he came back to his car, we had moved to the end of the row, so as to be less visible to him.  He got into his car and backed straight into our previous spot and parked again.  And then he just sat there.  At first, we were unsure whether he had somehow escaped from the lot and we just hadn’t seen it (this really isn’t possible, but it seemed more likely than him moving his car into another spot and just sitting there).  So we pulled around into the Ruby Tuesday lot to check if he was still there.  He was, with his lights on, just sitting there.  We came back to the gas station after driving around a couple of times.  We parked at one of the spots so as to appear to be getting gas, then realized how suspicious that looked, drove around a couple more times awkwardly, and returned to our spot at the end.  And still he sat there.  We settled down to wait in our spot and just watch.

We were all a bit too relaxed, and only I was watching at the exact moment he pulled out of his spot.  “HE’S GOING, HE’S GOING!” I screamed, and the chase was on.

The traffic lights actually played to our favor this time, remarkably.  Monica didn’t have to run any.

The Bad Date drives like a bloody maniac.  We were going 80, sometimes a little over.  He had to have been going about 100.

We tried to stay in the right lane, because we honestly had no idea where he was going to exit, but knew that eventually he would have to exit from the right lane.  His exit, when he eventually turned, ended up being way further out than we’d expected.  And then suddenly, there was nothing.  We had the lights from houses, and that was about it.  He lives in the middle of nowhere.  It was very creepy.

Even when we got into the residential areas, he continued to drive at about 80.  At one fork in the road, we almost lost him.  There was no telling which way he had turned, and basically all we could do at that point was take a guess.

“Somebody’d better make a decision fast!” Lisa said.

I glanced one way; I glanced the other.  And then, “LEFT!” I said, and we turned left, and a second or so later, there he was, way down at the end.  “SPEED UP!” we yelled at Monica, and she did, and it was him.

For a while, I at least, and I’m pretty sure both Monica and Lisa were doing the same, was trying to remember all the turns we were making.  It actually crossed my mind that it felt a bit like Hansel and Gretel.  Amusingly, Monica later said, “We should have left bread crumbs!”

We did finally lose him, and after sitting for a moment in disappointment, turned around to head back.

Unfortunately, we had made so very many turns, none of us were completely sure anymore how to get out.  “This is where he was going to bring you, Ginny!” Monica said, in daunting tones.

“Oh, wow,” I said.  “That’s really creepy–I hadn’t even thought of that!”

Eventually we ended up at a brightly-lit gas station, and Lisa locked the doors as Monica and I got out to ask directions.  The gas station, however, was locked, so we turned around and discovered a car with two teenagers who were filling up, and we asked them instead.

We returned to the car and followed the directions, which led us, after many, many minutes, back to the main road, and home again.

Stalking is fun.  No wonder I’ve had so many stalkers.

Stalkers Anonymous Strikes Back…Again

Have you ever been on a stakeout?  Have you ever waited inconspicuously in a parking lot for somebody to get off work so you could follow him home?  It’s quite envigorating.

On Friday night, The Mormon, Katie and Duckie, Monica, and I gathered at Lisa’s house to watch old videos of Lisa’s from high school and from now.  Mostly, we watched our stalking video from last year.  And it was every bit as hilarious as we’d imagined it to be.

Sometime while watching the video and agreeing on how much we missed our stalking adventures, we decided to have one that night.  I took The Mormon back to my house, where his car was.  (On the way there, he said, “I learned a lot about you tonight, Ginny.”  “Really?  Like what?” I said.  “I’m not sure yet; I’m going to have to take this all home and process it.”  Then he kissed me.)

So we got out at my house, he told me to be safe, and I went inside, not expecting to find my parents both still awake at…I think it was then 11:30.  But there they were.  They wanted to know where I was going.  I lied.  I’m not proud of it, but I did.  I told them we were likely going to Monica’s to watch more videos.  And then I went to wait for them, as they were to pick me up, in the driveway, so they couldn’t come in and tell a different story.

As I waited in the driveway, a car pulled up and stopped in front of my house.  It was not Lisa and Monica, however; it was some guy in his 40s.  The light was on inside his car, and his window was down, and he was just sitting there, staring into space.  So I went close enough to his car to be able to call to him, but keeping my distance just the same.

“Can I help you?” I called.

There was no answer.  The guy continued to sit, staring between me and…some random point in space.  He looked like he may have been out of his mind.  I backed up ever so slightly.

“Are you lost?” I said.

Still no answer.  More of the creepy staring.  He definitely looked lost.

“Do you need directions to someplace?” I said.

More creepy staring.  I was very creeped out.  But that feeling did not compare to how I felt after what happened next.

He turned towards me, stared at my face, and said, in a low voice, “Do you know Ginny?”

What crossed my mind here was that something paranormal was taking place.  Perhaps I was being abducted by aliens.  Maybe I was suddenly in another dimension where I did not exist, but this man was a dimension-hopper or something who had heard of me before.  Possibly he was sent to deliver a message to me from the future.  This is how my mind works.

But before too many seconds had passed, I did have the presence of mind to remember that there is a young girl down the street named Ginny, for whom I have babysat before, and that this man, who suddenly looks slightly familiar, might actually be her father.

So I said, “Well…I know her, but not very well.”

Again, he stared into space, still looking lost.  It eventually came out that Ginny (the other Ginny) was not at home and that he had been driving around looking for her.  I said I hadn’t seen anything, but I would of course let them know if I did.

“And what is your name?” he said.

“I’m Ginny.”

He looked lost again momentarily.

“I’m Ginny…[Brother]’s sister,” I said.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, before saying thanks and driving home.

A few minutes later, Monica and Lisa liberated me from my Driveway of Creepy Lost People, and we headed to Ruby Tuesday.

Although The Bad Date gave up and hasn’t called in many months, I feel no reserves about making him the subject of a stalking venture, because…well, you remember.

We arrived at Ruby Tuesday, which was closing at midnight, at about midnight, which meant we had somewhere between thirty minutes and an hour to wait.  During this time, we watched what may have been a drug deal, or at least, what might have been, if those two guys hadn’t been painfully aware of us driving around awkwardly and staring at them.  They stared at us right back, pointing and obviously talking about us.  Both sides were very confused as to the motives of the other.

His car was there; we recognized it and the license plate.  And we had the perfect stakeout position at the gas station next door.  First of all, there is no exit from Ruby Tuesday, which meant he would have to drive through the gas station.  But there was a row of shrubbery between the restaurant and the Gate, with one small opening, directly between his car and our spot.  So we had a clear view, but he did not.  And besides that, we had a completely different car this time (Monica was driving), and as it had been several months, he likely was not expecting to be followed again.

After about forty-five minutes, he appeared at his car, and the excitement really began.

I shall post Part 2 later.

Vague Memories of Pre-Determined Entry Topics

Would mosquitoes in England be better-mannered than those in the U.S.?  This is the question The Mormon and I tossed around the other day.  It was a funny conversation, so I wanted to preserve it here.

ME:  Fuck mosquitoes.
THE MORMON:  You know, when we get to England, mosquitoes will be polite.  They’ll ask permission before biting you.
ME:  Yes, and then even when you say no, they’ll still apologize for it afterward.

I had so many things I was going to update about over the past couple of days while I’ve been house/dog-sitting, but it’s been so long now I can’t remember a single one of them in detail.

Lisa and Monica and I began filming Stalkers Anonymous.  This should be a very fun project.  And Lisa said she’s looked through all her tapes and we must have a party to view old material sometime this weekend.  That will be entertaining–all this old high school stuff.

Psychobrat and Spidermonkey are still on a break, and Psychobrat is taking the opportunity to spend the weekend with The 47-Year-Old in Tallahassee (next weekend).  I had thought it was this weekend, so the other morning when her car was not home and my dad said, “Is Sister at work?” I replied, “I thought she was in Tallahassee.”

This was news to him, but not to my mom, and when Dad said, “And what does Brent feel about this?” I said, “What difference does it make?  They’re on a break.”

“Yeah, but she’s been sleeping with him this whole time, and all of a sudden she’s going to sleep with Bill, and he doesn’t feel anything about this?”

“I don’t think she’s going to sleep with Bill,” Mom said.

Mom,” I said.  “She’s going to spend the weekend with him in Tallahassee.”

“But that’s just to meet all his school friends and spend time with him,” Mom said.

Dad and I just looked at each other.

Psychobrat Gripes and Mormon Jubilation

It has been a very Psychobrat sort of day.

Psychobrat and Spidermonkey have broken up, which means that she will be spending all of her free time at home, whereas until recently she had practically been living at his house.  (This meant that the rare times she was home, she was actually almost pleasant.)  But no more of that.  Psychobrat is back full-force!

My Padawan sent me a new section of her story last night, which I was quite eager to read and comment on, and promised her I would do so after work and my workout today, so right about 3.  This, apparently, was not to be.

I came home at 2:15 with the intention of chilling at the computer for a few minutes just to decompress so I could do my workout.  The sun, you see, does not do good things for me, and I had been standing in it for four hours, so I had a headache and wanted to zone out in the coolest room of the house (my room is hot).  This, from experience, makes my heat headaches go away.  But even this was not to be.

Psychobrat was on the computer, and I asked her if I could have it for a few minutes so I could relax before working out.  She adamantly refused.  I told her that I had promised someone I would be on it at 3, and this pissed her off.


I told her (still calmly at this point) that I would only need it for half an hour to an hour, and then she could use it for the rest of the day.

But she was downloading something that was going to take a while and didn’t want to disrupt it.

Fair enough.  I said all she had to do was switch users and her programs would keep running.

She told me I was a selfish bitch.  (You have to imagine her voice as being very prissy and screechy, because that is how it sounds, unless she’s really pissed, and then she sounds like the girl from The Exorcist.)

Now here is a perfect example of her (and my father’s, because she gets it from him) circular non-logic, and the reason it is impossible to argue with either one of them.  She told me it was her turn to use the computer, because she is never home and therefore never gets to use it.  I told her that I had promised to be on the computer around 3.  She said I couldn’t promise such things, because she was using it at 3.  I said when I had made this promise, I hadn’t expected her to be home, because she never was home in the afternoons.  To which she replied, “Well, I’m going to be home all the time now, because Brent and I broke up.”

…?  Do you see the contradiction here?  This is only one example.  Every argument with either her or my father goes exactly the same way.  I remember another prime example from a few weeks ago, when my dad was waking me up every morning at 7 by yelling at my little brother.  This particular morning, he was yelling, “I WANT YOU TO GO TO JAIL, SO YOU CAN LEARN A LESSON!”  A few minutes later, when it suited his needs for him to reply to something Brother had said a different way, he said, “I DON’T WANT YOU TO GO TO JAIL!”

Even though I was very not awake, I was still able to pick up on the contradiction, and even chuckled to myself a bit when Brother said, “You just said you wanted me to go to jail,” and Dad replied, “I DID NOT!”

Do you see why this is so frustrating?  Why it is not possible to ever win an argument or defend yourself to either one of them?  They contradict themselves and disregard logic at all.  This is why I’ve questioned so often whether or not I am going insane, and why I bottle up my emotions until I explode, and why I so often just try to hide in my room when either of their tempers flare up.  Can any one of you honestly tell me that you could argue with these people and not eventually decide just not to open your mouth ever?  That’s what it’s like living at my house.  What’s worse is that she hates me, and everybody else here, and he favors her, so they both constantly jump down my throat and I get it even worse than anyone sometimes.  But it’s okay, because I can put up with it for a few more years, and then I am moving out.  I will live with The Mormon, and things will be so much better.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my family very much; I just need to live apart from them.

But where was I?  I got off on a tangent.  Psychobrat.  Right.  So I gave up on getting on the computer at any point anywhere near 3, and did my workout not on my own strength, but on anger.  And because I never decompressed, my headache is still lingering.

Then I went and took a shower and went to my room, because she was still on the computer.  But by this point I had decided just not to get on until about 9, when I would go ahead and respond to my Padawan, a bit later than promised.  This would give her the rest of the day to use it as long as she wanted, and when I finally got on, my time would be uninterrupted and she couldn’t argue with me.

I sat down at 9:35, and she walked in the door at 9:45, after having been out who knows where.  She approached me and simpered, “Can I have the computer for five minutes?”

I looked at her.  “You must be joking,” I said.

“No, I just want it for a few minutes to check all my stuff.”

“Well, you can have it for a few minutes tomorrow.  It’s my turn now.”

“It isn’t your turn.  There are no turns.  You don’t own this computer.”

“Well, that’s too bad for you, because I’m not getting off.”

“YES, you ARE!  I WANT IT!”  (Imagine the Exorcist voice now.)

“And now you know how it feels.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NOW I KNOW HOW IT FEELS!?”  (At this point, the computer restarted, and continued restarting every time I logged on for the rest of this conversation.  I suspected that Psychobrat was channeling Carrie.)

“This doesn’t sound familiar to you from…oh, about 6 hours ago?”


“You could have switched users for a few minutes.  It wouldn’t have hurt anything.”


“I agree; it isn’t fair.”




“As I already stated, I agree with you.  It certainly isn’t fair.”


“Well, you can check it tomorrow when I’m at work for 11 hours.”


Finally I got so sick of it restarting and being called selfish over and over again (and as I’ve explained, there simply is no way to defend yourself), I just got off.  It was about 9:50.  Psychobrat immediately took over and used it until 11.  That, apparently, is 5 minutes to her.

The 47-Year-Old came over today.  This is the nickname of the guy who is actually 25 and whom Psychobrat met at my brother’s day care one summer when she was 14 and he was 21, and where she had been sent as punishment for the summer before, when she was fucking The Jackass from down the street every day.  She was cleaning her room last night since he was coming over.  This involved washing her sheets.  I’m not sure I want to speculate upon that one.

I actually feel bad talking about Psychobrat like this.  But it’s helped my anger completely go away.  Now that I’ve written all these horrible things about her, all I feel is guilt.  The anger is gone.  But my conscience is very strong.

I’m going to change the subject.  Want to hear something sweet for a change?  I don’t deserve this, because I’m really a pretty horrible person, as evidenced by all of the above…but I am thankful for it.  I think The Mormon is one of the best things that has ever happened to me, and I will never stop being grateful for that.

Have you ever had a class with some guy (or girl) that you thought was really hot, and maybe you didn’t know them at all really, but when the semester ended, you were sort of sad that you wouldn’t see them anymore?  The Mormon told me today that I was this person to him, back when we were in that sociology class together.  He thought I was incredibly hot (“not to be superficial,” he said) and even mentioned me to his friends, although we’d only spoken once or twice and didn’t even know each other’s names.  And I thought nothing of it at all.  It never occurred to me at this time to be attracted to him.

He told me that when he saw me on the first day in our creative writing class, he was ecstatic, and started trying to figure out a way to tell me he was interested, but because he was shy, said nothing for almost the entire class.  And all the way through, he realized that he liked me more and more.  (And I was completely unaware of this for about three months.  He’s experiencing all this inner turmoil, and I’m just blissfully ignorant.)

Anyway, I was all, “I was that girl.  That rocks!”

And…I’m just so happy to have him and that he loves me so very much.

Monica Quotes and a Weird Dream

I went out with Monica and Lisa tonight for the first time in a while and told them what I’m going to attempt to do for my Halloween costume (Slave Leia, to refresh your memory) and Monica said, just like this:  “Is that the one who was attached to Zha-Zha Bing?”

That quote just had to be preserved.

And, flatteringly, later on Monica said that she was sorry her blog was not as interesting as mine, and Lisa said, “Nobody’s blog is as interesting as Ginny’s.” That made me feel happy.

Had this crazy dream a few nights ago that I was in this big building that seemed to be the human equivalent of one of those little ant trap things.  You know, flat, roundish, claustrophobic, a few openings all around.  Anyway, it seemed that both Jurassic Park and The Walking Dead had exploded outside the giant ant trap, because it was completely surrounded by both dinosaurs and zombies.  Nearly everybody in there who was hiding had a gun.  I had this huge thing–I forget what it’s called, but I joked to The Mormon while watching Predator the day before that it looked like the thing Wayne Szelinski used to shrink his kids.  And suddenly I’m this amazing shot who hits everything dead-on.

There was this one guy running around with a pistol and shooting everything–he, too, was hitting everything he aimed for.  He shot some guy, and I yelled at him, “HE WAS ON OUR SIDE!  He was alive!  Great!  And now he’s just going to wake up and turn into a zombie!”

Pistol Guy replied, “Well, so I’ll shoot him again!”

Then I realized that we all needed to whisper, because the dinosaurs could hear us from outside, and we didn’t want t-rexes coming and sticking their heads into the openings and snatching people out.  We didn’t need any more attention drawn to us than was absolutely necessary.  Of course, nobody else seemed to care and kept talking in normal voices, which really irritated me.