A Wake-Up Shout, a Clone, and a Mad Hitman

I went to bed early in order to get a good eight hours of sleep and get up by 9, but was unfortunately awoken two hours earlier at 7:15 by the sounds of my extremely homophobic father shouting at Brother about what going to jail really means.

“THERE ARE A LOT OF MEN IN THERE WHO HAVE BEEN SEPARATED FROM THEIR GIRLFRIENDS FOR A LONG TIME!  DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!?  TELL ME WHAT THAT MEANS!”

I am not hearing this, I thought, attempting to go back to sleep, but this, unfortunately, was not possible until about two hours later, so I ended up sleeping until about 11 anyway.

I had two dreams last night–well, this morning, really.  In the first, Cortney went home to Illinois to visit family for a bit, then came back and told me there was this guy there I just had to meet.  So I took her word for it, and she and Nicole and I went up to Illinois for about a week.

While there, we took a trip to Sam’s Club, or something similar to it, where there was this guy working whom Cortney had met and spoken to for a while.  He looked and talked exactly like The Mormon, and even had the same name.  That was why Cortney had wanted me to see him.

When she introduced me to him, he said, “This’ll sound really strange, but you look exactly like my girlfriend.”  How weird is that?  So we followed him around, and I kept trying to hold hands with him and stuff, and finally I just thought, Why don’t I?  This guy is The Mormon.

Then we were writing all the stuff we were going to purchase up on this chalkboard, because their cash registers were broken or something, and I woke up (to Dad’s yelling) trying to rub chalk off of my hands.

The next dream was after I went back to sleep; I dreamed that Michelle, Adrianna, Turtle, Peck, and I were all hitmen for…somebody.  I don’t know who.  And Turtle was also crazy–he deliberately killed the wrong guy, laughing all the while.  For some reason, that whole Christian group that we had over the summer was in the cafe again, and Turtle killed one of them.  So then whoever we worked for sent me after Turtle, but Turtle knew this and kept trying to shoot me.  (This took place in the parking garage at UNF.)  And he kept laughing maniacally–it was really freaky!

When I saw Turtle tonight, I said, “I had this dream you were trying to shoot me and kept laughing creepily.”

He said, “Is that why you looked at me funny at first?”

“That’s why,” I said.

Something else of interest, completely unrelated to dreams–remember how I was griping about the old van in the previous entry? So this guy came to the door just today offering to break it down so he could have the parts. He even had the wrecker right there. My dad wants to get pictures of us all in front of it first, since we’ve had it since the year I was born (he gets weirdly sentimentally attached to objects), but after that we’re going to call the guy and get rid of it. Cool how that works out, huh?

And that’s pretty much it on news/stories for today.

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Psychobrat, the $250 Hoop Skirt, and the Video Game

I’ve got some Psychobrat stories for you this morning.

First of all, Psychobrat, who demanded a car out of my parents, finally did get her way, of course.  And of course, she cannot afford to make the payments on it, so my parents are doing that for her.

But Psychobrat, who cannot afford her $150 car payments, also demanded a $250 prom dress from my parents, and got that, as well.  $250 she doesn’t have on a dress she will wear once.  It isn’t even attractive; it greatly resembles a hoop skirt.  (Just to show that I’m not being hypocritical here, my parents did buy me a car, but I have always made all of my own payments on it, and I used my own money to buy myself an $80 prom dress.)

So she’s been swishing around the house in her $250 hoop skirt, and I’ve been snickering behind my hand.

So there’s that.

Then there’s the matter of MarioKart.

When I got back from Cortney’s, I had this serious hankering to play MarioKart, so I went digging out our Nintendo and the few games Brother hadn’t sold and sat down to play it.  Two days later, I was about halfway to beating the game, when Psychobrat informed me that she was taking it to Spidermonkey’s house because they had nothing else to do but play this game.

I informed her that she wasn’t taking it, because I had dug it out of the spot it had been sitting in, unthought of, for the past three years, for me to play it, not her.

As everyone reading this probably knows by now, it doesn’t matter what you say to Psychobrat, because she will always have what she wants.  She walked straight into my room, took it (with plenty of assurances that it would be back that night) and left.

So yesterday, knowing perfectly well that MarioKart would stay at Spidermonkey’s for all eternity, because it now belongs to her and I can’t get to it there, I said, “So where’s MarioKart?”

This was when Psychobrat informed me that, as punishment for my being a bitch, it was still at Spidermonkey’s.

I, trying not to explode, walked into my room to call Katie, because I knew that would calm me down before I blew a fuse.  Katie wasn’t available, so I left her the following voice mail:

“Hello, how are you?  I’m just calling you to bitch, because according to PSYCHOBRAT!!!!!!, that is what I am.”  I paused here, because I was listening to Psychobrat call calmly from the other room, “Are you talking about yourself?”

“So…have a nice day,” I said, and hung up.

I love my sister.

What else has been happening lately?  I’ve spent a lot of time with The Mormon, which has been awesome, of course.  The other day he bought me a little stuffed kangaroo (that’s one of my favorite animals) just because.  How cute is that?  So I named them Stacia and Oswald (the mother and baby respectively) because those were the first two names that popped into my head.

Oh, speaking of The Mormon, I remembered another dream.  It’s kind of stupid, actually.  I dreamed I made him watch this horrible movie from the ’50s (it wasn’t real) that I realized about halfway through I had actually seen before, but we still kept watching it.  I had read this review that made it sound phenomenal, but later realized that the review was actually mine–it was here on my blog.  I had written up this whole phenomenal review of a completely detestable movie, just to see how good I could make it sound using double-talk or something.  It was so well-written, but the only thing I remember about it now is that at one point I used the phrase, “lovably loathsome” to describe a character.

All I really remember about the dream-movie is that it seemed to be about some stupid cop and a bunch of teenagers who kept getting the best of him as he chased them around town.

And I remembered, oddly, the tagline of the film, and wrote it down in the middle of the night so I wouldn’t forget:  “There’s nothing funnier than Lt. Don Chodiedrel.  Except the loads-funnier Sam don’t-remember-his-last-name.”  (The cop’s last name, despite the odd spelling, was pronounced ‘ka-DEE-drul’.)

The things my subconscious gets up to.

In other news…I feel like it’s been forever since I updated here, but that is because I am hard at work on an original novel–the first in a trilogy, in fact.  And yes, my main character is unabashedly based on myself and thus technically a Mary-Sue, but above the level of Bella.  Far…far above.

Anyway, I’ve been making some aesthetics to inspire myself, so here’s your very first hint of what I’m getting up to:Dean Aesthetic 2

The Mormon, Work Anxiety, Some Black Licorice, and a Luncheon Meeting

First of all, I would just like to say welcome to my new readers!  Thank you very much for following.  Please don’t be shy; feel free to drop by and introduce yourselves sometime!

I’m not going to school this semester.  Not by choice—just because the school and the doctor’s office are both run by incompetent gits.  So I now have four months to give them both hell.  I will be going next semester.  Of course, by that time, I will be the equivalent of one year behind schedule.  Brilliant.

I did start back to work again this week.  So I mean, I won’t be a complete loser for four months.  Oh, but I’ll feel like it.

For the past couple months I’ve been rather silent on the Dean the Mormon stories, but no more.  I’ve decided I’m way past the don’t-kiss-and-tell stage now.  (He’s my boyfriend; we kiss.  There.)  So now I can tell stories as they arise without feeling guilty or having to put the lock on, which I dislike doing.

So…speaking of Dean the Mormon…we went to St. Augustine the other day just to be tourists.  I got lost on the way to his house.  (He lives about an hour away from me, and see, I suck at finding places on the first or fiftieth times, and I suck at giving directions.  I’m just not good with this kind of thing.  As I was trying to explain to him, when I learn to drive someplace new, I have to learn it in both the light and the dark, because they both look way different to me, so it’s like two completely different routes.)  Also, I’d never seen it in the light, and it was light while I was trying to find it.  I did manage to find my way out in the dark later, which is saying something, as there are very few lights out where he lives.

We were headed into a bookstore a few minutes after we arrived, and there were some other people headed into the store, coming from the other direction, when The Mormon paused and had that look of, ‘Hey, I know you’ on his face.  Then they paused, too.  And when I saw that they had a baby, I knew that this must be Trask and Co.

Trask is one of The Mormon’s best friends—the one who lives in Gainesville with his wife and their baby, whom, when he came out, Trask said looked like something out of The Dark Crystal.  (Apparently he’s grown out of that stage, because I couldn’t really see it.  And believe me, I looked.)  Trask is also the one who calls dozens of times during two-hour make-out sessions because he knows that when The Mormon isn’t answering his phone, that’s what’s going on.

So they just happened to be going into the same store as us on the same day at the exact same time.  I love weird coincidences like that.  Anyway, so as we parted ways, Trask shook my hand and said, “It was lovely to finally meet you; I’ve heard great things.  This guy has really fallen head over heels for you.”

We went into some candy store later and argued for a while over whether black licorice is good or bad, and then we got a bag of various things, and I put a scoop of black licorice in it, and so then I stuck a piece in my mouth, and he informed me coolly that I was not going to get kissed for an hour.  I laughed and ate more licorice.

We went to the fort, the name of which I can’t remember, but…you know…the fort…and joked about the two-hundred-year-old graffiti on the walls (I’m serious; there was stuff carved from like 1800-something) and some General or Commander Pratt.  And then we made Pratt jokes for the rest of the time we were there.  (Example:  There were several spots where you could, even now, quite easily fall from the upper level to…way far below, and I wondered aloud how often that must have happened back in the day, and he said he didn’t know but it must have happened, and it must have sucked, and I looked down below in this mournful sort of way and said, “Oh, there goes Pratt.”  Stuff like that. ‘Twas fun.)

Then we went to this 50s diner where they actually played all 50s music (which was really cool because I knew every single song, some of which I hadn’t heard in…well, many years).  And back to his house again to watch Say Anything, this kick-ass British show called Spaced, and a little Battlestar:  Galactica.  At one point, he stepped outside to smoke, and his brother came out and said, “Where’s Dean?”

“Oh, probably outside smoking,” I said.

“That was enthusiastic,” Jeremy (the brother) said.

“Ha…yeah, well…I’m just going to eat more black licorice to get back at him,” I said, and ate about six pieces.

I checked the caller ID this morning and discovered that yesterday, while I was out, another stalker called me.  For the first time in months.  This guy liked me back when I was in my journalism class a year ago, and he liked a few of my friends, too.  He did a story on HP fandom, and asked for some of my friends’ names to interview them.  Then he started stalking Katie.  He’d come up to me and ask if I knew where any of her classes were, or when (I very coldly informed him that I did not), and then sent her an e-mail, which I actually still have.

From April 1, 2017…April Fools’ Day, go figure:

“Hey there,

Just wanted to say that it was nice talking to you and thanks for your oppinoin [sic] on the new Harry Potter book.  Also, if we can meet up sometime next week, can u tell me what u look like.  Maybe that way it will make it easier for me to find u.  For me, 6’1”, dark short brown hair, glasses, 150 lbs. hazel eyes.  I like HP, photography, paintball, watching tv, playing my Game Boy, going to the movies, listening to HP audiobooks.  What do u like to do?

Thanks, Colin”

This guy was really weird, if you haven’t already guessed that.  He had this creepy, halting sort of speech, really slow, with odd inflections.  Like a poorly-made robot.  He tried calling both of us several times after that, and neither of us ever answered again.

Tell me, what is with these people, and how do I keep meeting them?

So I went to lunch with Milo today…hadn’t seen him in a few weeks…and this scary thing happened when I got out of my car.  We were walking into the restaurant, side by side, and I don’t know, I guess obviously there’s some pent-up stuff inside, and now I’m not afraid of hand-holding like I was two months ago…anyway, as we were walking in, I tried to grab his hand.  I don’t know what was going through my head.  But I brushed against his arm with mine and reached down for it, and that was the exact moment I realized what I was doing and jerked my hand away again like I’d burnt it.  I don’t think he noticed—I sort of played it off like I’d just walked too close and then lengthened the distance between us.  But then later we walked over to Target and I did it again!  So I just crammed my hands into my damn pockets and kept them there.

(I would just like to say, for those of you who are wondering, that no matter what my feelings for a certain other concerned party, I would never cheat on The Mormon, because for one thing, I’m just not like that, but for another…he’s a really freaking great boyfriend.  I couldn’t ask for better, and I like him a lot.  And even if Milo finally came to his senses all of a sudden and realized that he should have been with me all along…I’d make him wait indefinitely.)

So afterward I went back to The Mormon’s to watch more of Spaced.  That show totally kicks ass, I’m telling you.  Like I said, it’s an hour drive, and I knew that it would be really difficult trying to find his house in the dark, so the entire way there, I felt like I was trying to outrun the darkness.  As I explained to him, I kept checking the rearview mirror, and I could see the sky behind me getting darker and darker, and I was going faster and faster, when at last I hit the traffic on San Jose, and the darkness was coming much more quickly.  But I actually made it just in the nick of time, when a sliver of light still hung in the air.

And now I s’pose I’m finished for the evening.  See, I told you there was a real entry coming soon.

Some Sort of Something Going On

So The Mormon met the parents yesterday.  It was a nerve-wracking experience (for me).  Just because…you know.  You know how my family is.  I love them, but things can be…awkward.  But everyone was on their best behavior, so…good.

I confessed as we were stepping out the front door that I was so glad the awkwardness had ended, and he said, “Why? It was fine!”

Later at dinner he asked if I thought they’d liked him, and I said yes, from what I could tell.  Hope so.  That will make any future mention of him at all much less awkward.  They didn’t say anything, though, so I’m assuming it’s all cool.

Oh, here’s something.  I was sick on Christmas, and just sort of lying around all day, too weak to stand.  At the end of the night, Psychobrat (who had been a complete bitch all day, of course) stomped into the laundry room, threw open the washer, threw open the dryer, and immediately made one of her noises that are supposed to show her annoyance and instead make her sound like she’s attempting to gargle her entire throat.  This meant that my clothes were in the dryer.  (I’d neglected to take them out the night before when I’d gotten sick.)

Well, as I was lying on my mom’s lap on the couch, still too weak to stand up for long periods of time, and since, you know, I do her laundry all the time, whether I’m waiting for the washer or I just happen to be awake while it’s going…I just do it…I didn’t think asking her to simply take everything and dump it on my bed in a heap would be too much to ask.

Oh, but it was, apparently.  She gargled her tonsils for a while, and finally screeched, “NO, I WON’T DO YOUR LAUNDRY!”

Now, here’s the actually remarkable part:  My dad said, “Oh, damn it, [Sister], you can be so selfish sometimes!” and went in there and got my clothes for me, took them into my room, folded and sorted everything, and left it neatly on my bed.  I’m lying there on the couch thinking, This is awesome.

She responded with something like, “WELL I’M TIRED AND CRANKY!” to which he replied, disgust evident in voice, “Yeah, that’s obvious.  Go to bed.”

It was wonderful.

Like I said, though, she was a bitch the entire day.  Mostly about the computer.  (Apparently it was “her day”, as she told us.  It couldn’t be, like, you know, the Savior’s day, or anything like that.  It was all hers.)

And of course, a dream.

It kept alternating between a modern, American setting and a faerie tale, Cinderella-ish sort.  I was working for this really rich family, as like…the maid, or…the nanny, or…something?  But in the other reality, it was a charming prince and his bitchy wife and their kids.  It seriously had this whole Cinderella feel to it.  Except the woman was a complete bitch.  The children?  Also bitches.

My younger sister and brother also worked in the castle/mansion.  I took care of them, too.  I’m not sure how old we were, or how we got there.  Anyway.

I started to fall in love with the prince/man of the house.  He was falling for me, too.  Probably something to do with the fact that he could see how different I was from his wife (probably an arranged marriage—she so didn’t deserve him).  (He was also completely aware of the fact that his own children were miserable little devils.  It was wonderful.)  This was a genuinely nice guy, whom you could only feel sorry for for being stuck in this marriage with this god-awful family.

Anyway, so the wife eventually found out there was some sort of something going on between me and her husband, and of course, I’m basically a peasant girl who isn’t worthy to look at her as it is, but when she discovered that, she decided to kill me.  Freakishly, she let her kids in on this idea.  They were all for it.  (Not completely sure how old they were, either.  There were somewhere between two and four of them.  I’m not really certain.)  But she had them well-trained to carry out her evil bitchiness.  He found out about the plot and warned me.

So…I think she was planning to poison me and my brother and sister.  But when she found out I knew about this (I fed the food to one of her evil dogs right in front of her, out of spite), I had to flee.  Into the woods in the giant backyard.  (I think the faerie tale version was an enchanted forest.)  (And I’m serious, the dogs were evil…they would…bark and stuff, to let her know that I was with Prince Charming.  They went snooping.)  But yeah.  I threw the plates at the dog, and she dove to retrieve it, but the dog was quicker.  The dog turned belly-up, and I screamed, “You witch!  You evil witch!  Don’t you realize I have powerful people on my side!?”

I was, of course, referring to her husband, which she knew.  (He had warned me, and we had already made plans to run away together the next day, into another kingdom where no evil witches would throw anything between us—death or themselves or anything.)  That’s when I grabbed my siblings’ hands and the three of us ran into the forest.

I was hiding somewhere that I could still see what was going on.  She was distributing daggers to her children, making it all seem like a fun game.  “Whoever finds them first gets extra dessert,” or something like that, in this really sweet voice.  They were all creepy-looking little things with malicious grins.  (I think she was actually Tilda Swinton, with long hair in the faerie-tale world and short hair in the other one.)

Anyway, so there I’m sitting, brother and sister alongside me, behind a pile of chopped firewood, I do believe—a large pile—when her other dog comes running up, barking and snarling.  I was sure everyone had been alerted to our hiding place, when suddenly, the husband’s cat (which looked an awful lot like our family kitty) pounced on the dog, hissing and biting and clawing, and distracted it, and they took off fighting.

But we went running, anyway.  I waited until they were all deeper in the woods (or so I thought) and went running with the kids back towards the front, straight into the arms of Prince Charming.  (Well, I didn’t mean to.  He just appeared there.  I kind of collided.  Actually, I thought it was her at first.  But no, she was behind me.)

He said we had to leave instantly.  We were just embracing, when little sister screamed, “There!  She’s right there!” and there was the bitch, coming right at us, bonfire in her eyes.

But he drew his sword, pointed it at her, and informed her that he could end it all then and there, if that was what she wanted.  She hissed like a snake and backed away a few paces.

“Then go…run with them, if that is what you want!”  Uh…a bit creepy.  But anyway, as his coachman was right there, we didn’t need to be told twice.  (Fortunately, the coachman was loyal to the prince, and not her.  He thought she was a bitch, too.)

So then when this ended, it still wasn’t completely over—then I dreamed I was lying in bed next to Dean the Mormon, having apparently fallen asleep at his house, and was telling him about it that morning, and he was very entertained, and said, “So did everybody live happily ever after?”

“Well, you would think so, wouldn’t you?” I said.  “But no—” and I proceeded to tell him all the things that went wrong with it.  Namely, that Prince Charming actually ended up being a complete dick anyway, and…oh, there was a whole list of things.  I can’t really remember anymore, but everything went wrong.  (Apparently.  I didn’t know about those bits until this part of the dream.  It originally ended with us riding away in the carriage at the end.)

Catching Up

I cut myself shaving this morning.

This was no big deal, I do it every now and then, and I was just going about finishing the job, when I noticed that it was still bleeding.  And it just kept going.

That’s when I got a bit dizzy and almost passed out.  I snapped out of it pretty quickly, though.  (Okay, I shrieked ear-piercingly.)  Then I grabbed a washcloth and applied pressure until it finally stopped bleeding…then it started up again, so I applied more pressure, and by the time it stopped for good, the water was, of course, cold.  So enjoyable.  *rolls eyes*

So I’m of course inviting Dean to our New Year’s party this year, and I’m going to tell Milo he’s invited too, because “Nicole needs somebody to kiss at midnight”.  I am awesomely bad, as Gary put it when I told him this.

Here’s a good story.  The other day I was listening to random things on my computer, and Brother was here, and I told him he had to hear this one song, and I opened up Cab Calloway’s “Minnie the Moocher”, and he says, “What is this from?”

“Nothing that I know of,” I say.

“No, I’ve heard this before.”

“I don’t know where.”

He has this look like he’s really listening, trying to place it, and then he says, “Yeah, they used to play this on the morning announcements every day last year.”  And then he starts singing it, before the words even started!  I was so shocked.

Frighteningly, I was offered a job at Watson again, one that pays $1.50 more than I make at UNF now, but I declined.

Speaking of UNF, god knows if I’m ever going to get in, but I shan’t bitch about that now.  I’m not in the mood.

I had to go to the mall the other day for a final couple of Christmas presents, and when I got there, I decided I was going to be in and out in about five minutes.

Hot Topic disagreed with me.  They thought it would be funny to hold me hostage for thirty minutes as they fixed their register, which died immediately after scanning my card.

About fifteen minutes went by, and one of the other cashiers walked by and said, “Have you gone crazy yet?”

I said ‘yes’ with a completely straight face.

About five minutes later, I asked them if I could maybe run home to grab my sleeping bag.

When the thirty minutes was up and they were finally able to re-scan and give me a receipt, she asked if I wanted it in the bag or not, and I said, “Yes, please—think I’ll frame this one.”

Fortunately I had nowhere else to be, so it was just a sitcom-lengthed opportunity for many witticisms.

I did see Rainbow when we were in Hot Topic.  He’s in the Navy, on leave right now.  He was with his girlfriend of two years, some really young chick who’s psychotically possessive and stares at me evilly when I speak to or smile at Rainbow.  I grinned back.

Went to Dean the Mormon’s house for dinner that night, and then we headed to St. Augustine to see the lights.  St. Augustine is the most Christmas-y part of Florida, because of all the lights they put up around town.  It’s something you’ve got to see if you live in a subtropical climate.

Last night when I came inside, Brother was sitting at the computer crying.  He moved into his room; I followed him.  He and his friend were sitting out there, and Brother was talking to Dad on the phone (and crying).

The story was, Psychobrat and Spidermonkey walked into the house.  Spidermonkey looked at Brother and said, “Is that your sister sitting at the computer?”

Brother called him a dick, which caused Spidermonkey to leap forth and attempt to strangle him.  Brother kicked him and hurt his foot (hence the crying) and Psychobrat laughed as she watched it all.

When Brother’s friend told me about the laughing, he said, “You know, I really don’t like your sister.  She’s evil.”

I said, “Believe me, we know she’s evil.”

So of course, Brother was the one to get yelled at because he doesn’t know how to get along.  If the situation had been reversed, and he had provoked Psychobrat (or Psychobrat’s boyfriend), he still would have been at fault.  I know, because it’s exactly the same with me.  It doesn’t matter what happens…it doesn’t matter that it is almost always Psychobrat who provokes things…we are the ones who get blamed, because we are not the favorite child.  I’m serious; that’s how it works.

She knows it, too.  That’s why she starts things.  She likes getting us in trouble.

Annnd…here’s what happened.

I was so incredibly nervous about what might happen when I saw him today that I walked to class shaking.  Corey, as I was talking to him, mistook this for my being cold and moved me into the sun.

Well, as it turned out, he was obviously trying to act like things were normal between us.  He made a valiant effort.  And I still had every intention of making the phone call immediately after class, if he didn’t walk to the car with me.

A couple things about class—I turned in the love poem, which I thought had totally sucked because I suck at poetry, but maybe that’s just me—L’Owen told me he loved it and asked permission to read it aloud next class.  He was also thoroughly amused with the title of the fourteen pages I handed him:  “Stalkers Anonymous”.

The member of our group who was supposed to have sent us his story online to read before today never sent it, so we really had nothing at all to talk about, my other group member and I…except he had the rest of Dean’s story, so he was planning to just join their group.  I, of course, had not seen the rest of the story, and this guy’s sitting there saying, “That guy [Dean] is a genius, seriously.”

I’m like, “I know.”  Stop talking to me about it!

L’Owen told me that if Josh (the other member of our group) did not show up, then I had no reason to stick around, so to give it ten minutes.  Mike was counting down.  Josh showed up when I had, like…one minute to go.  Go figure.  Haha.  So then he and Mike start discussing how brilliant Dean is…meanwhile, I’ve been shamelessly staring at him ever since I first arrived.  At that point, though, his back was to me, so he couldn’t have noticed.

When all was said and done at the end of class, I was talking to L’Owen, and Dean was leaving, and I’m looking up at him—trying to do so inconspicuously—wondering if he’s going to say good-bye, assuming he isn’t, when he turns and looks at me and says, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

I think I beamed.

I went outside, and we talked to the group for a moment or so, and he announced that he was leaving, so I went with him.

Conversation was…well…it was…odd.  Sort of stilted, I guess.

When we got to the parking lot, he said, “Walk to my car with me, I’ve got something for you.”

So he takes out a stack of books that he’d been talking about loaning to me, before I went and turned all stupid, and was saying, “Things between us have been…”

“Awkward,” I finished.  “Yes, I noticed.”

“Yeah…well, I wanted to loan you these as a sort of peace offering.”

So there he was, willing to make peace and at least attempt to bring things back to some level that they were before, even after what I’d told him on the phone.  That was enough for me to see that Sandra was way wrong in her speculations (see previous entry).

“Um…I’ve been thinking,” I said.  “I realized that I’m stupid, and I don’t want to stop seeing you, after all.”  (As I explained to Michelle yesterday, I never looked forward so much to telling somebody I was stupid.)

He smiled, in a sort of I-want-to-believe-you-but-you’d-better-prove-it way and said, “What brought that on?”

“I—I’m not sure,” I stuttered.  “Well, obviously, it was partially due to how weird things had gotten…like yesterday, when you wouldn’t even look at me.”  I watched him carefully, to see if perhaps yesterday was just some sort of fluke, and that hadn’t been intentional.

“Yeah,” he said, and nodded–yes, he had been deliberately ignoring me.  Well, I did deserve it.

“But…yeah.  I changed my mind.  I don’t know what the hell my problem is.”

“I’m afraid I came on too strong the other night.  It was never my intention to make you think…you know, that you’re the only one for me, or…anything like that.  It was true what I said; I’ve never really felt this way for someone before, and I wanted to tell you that, and at least give it a shot.  It could last a day, it could last a week, who knows?  But at least we’d have tried.  I didn’t mean to spook you.  We just need to take things very slowly.”

I, of course, agreed.  Then I told him about Katie’s response to witnessing our exchange, or lack thereof, yesterday.

“I just didn’t know what to do, really,” he said.  “I mean, I was hurting, for one thing, and then I didn’t know what to say to you at all, and…well, I felt really wrong about it, so I wanted to try and make up.”

Then I had to go to work, and he stood back, even though he was giving me that same look that I always assumed meant he wanted to kiss me.  He wasn’t going to do anything.  That’s certainly respectful.  So I put my arms around him and kissed him instead.  Then I told him I’d call him after work and walked happily back to my car.

So…yeah.  We fixed things.

Today was a good day.

Tirade of the Day

Obviously, I do like him.

This fact occurred to me (too late, of course) sometime after I told him that I didn’t want to commit to anything, and that it was up to him if we kept seeing each other because I didn’t want to lead him on.

I keep thinking up odd stuff that I forgot to put in earlier entries; yesterday in class, for example, I was sick, and we had this whole-class peer review thing, of three pages of one of Dean’s short stories, in fact, and then a poem another girl wrote.

Well, as I was quite ill physically, at least, and a little strung out emotionally, I just…sat there, with my head down on the desk.  I was listening…sort of.  And at the end of class, L’Owen looked around and said, “There are six minutes left…and I know there are a couple people in here who haven’t said anything this whole time…who are they…?”

I did a quick scan and saw that there were only two of us who hadn’t spoken, and…he was bound to notice that.  So I raised my hand to get it over with.  I figured if I sacrificed myself, it would be a lot better for me than letting him call me out.

“GINNY!” he said, grinning with delight.  “You haven’t said one word today; you’ve been slouched down there in your seat, and somehow we’ve completely missed you!  Well, Ginny, you’re going to talk for the next six minutes.”

I stared at him.  (I was stalling.)

“Go on!” he said.  “Let’s hear what you’ve got to say; there must be something.”

Well, we were on Dean’s story, and I sort of…glanced at him sideways, and then I said something.  I have no idea what it was.  All the comments I’d thought about making had already been hashed over.  I really don’t know what I said.  It may have been relevant, maybe not.

I said something that I knew he’d have to defend, and he did, and I responded with something (I seriously do not remember what we were talking about) and I’m sitting here thinking, Is this an argument?–I think we’re arguing.  He hates me.  He so hates me.

Anyway, after the events of yesterday and today, by the time I got to work, I was considering calling him immediately after to tell him that I am sorry, I’m stupid, I do like him, and I don’t want to stop seeing him.  That is the point I had reached.  And Michelle and Adrianna thought this was a good idea, too.

Then I talked to Sandra, who scared the hell out of me.

Sandra’s opinion on it all is that if he respected what I’d said to him, then he’d still want to be friends and things should go on pretty much like normal.  The fact that he is now basically shunning me, she thinks, shows that he only wanted me for one thing, and since he knows he’s not going to get it, he wants nothing more to do with me.

I stared at her in horror, thinking that yes, this did make sense, and that Sandra, being in her forties/fifties, would know better than the rest of us.  (She said it happened to her before.)

I switched places with Adrianna to go and serve with Michelle and see what she thought.  Then I decided to share with Tyler, as he is a guy, and get his opinion.

Somehow, I explained the whole story to Tyler in about five sentences.  I have no idea how I accomplished this.  I’ll never manage it again.

Tyler’s instinct is that he really does like me and is just hurt (which is my instinct, as well as the instinct of pretty much everyone who has actually met him), and he said, “Like, if I only wanted you [he lowered his voice here] for sex [normal voice again], then if you told me that you didn’t want a serious relationship, I would come back with, ‘That’s great!  Me neither!’”

But we all agreed that Sandra really could have a point.

After that I was too frightened by it all to call him.  I’m going to see what happens in class tomorrow, and take it from there.

Also at work tonight, Michelle and Tyler and I stood around talking for a good while, and then I had to go on a quest for more marinara, and when I came back, they explained to me that nothing was said while I was gone; conversation completely ceased.  They were looking forward to me coming back to break the awkward silence.  Conversation depended on me, they said.

Of course, this reminded me of the episode of Seinfeld when George and Elaine can’t talk to each other without Jerry there.  I told them so.

Tyler said, “I would be Elaine.  I claim her right now.”

Michelle said, “No way; you can’t be Elaine!  She’s a woman!”

I said, “I’m Jerry.”

“True,” she said.

“Besides, you’re short,” I told her, and Tyler and I both snickered.

Corey reminded me of Seinfeld today, too.  The first thing I heard him say was, “I am on no sleep!”

So I finished up, “No sleep!  You don’t know what it’s like over there!”

Katie cackled, and I did, too, and she said, “YUS, the Red Menace!”

Know-It-All looked at us, laughing a bit and shaking her head, and she said, “I love watching these two.  They sit there laughing evilly about all their little inside jokes, and you think they’re laughing at you, but most of the time they really aren’t.”

Katie and I looked at each other, and one of us said, “Except that we actually are, usually.”  Or maybe we only thought it.  I can’t remember.  That was right about the point that Dean the Mormon showed up.

I completely forgot my history quiz until last night at 3:30, when I was going to bed.  So I got out the sheet and memorized the twenty terms in order in just about five minutes.  I cannot tell you how amazed I was; usually it takes way longer.  After reading them once pretty much, I knew them all.

Katie and I went to Steak ‘n’ Shake at midnight and, by 1:45, had frightened all the customers away.  Score.

I should sleep.  I have to pick up my contacts tomorrow, and the office closes at twelve.  I didn’t make it on Monday.  (It was like 12:45 by the time I got there.)