The Search Is FINALLY Over!

(Originally written on July 27, 2009)

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I GOT THE B&B JOB!!!!!

I received this glorious news via a phone call at around 10 this morning.

I can’t believe it:  I actually got a job.  I was really starting to lose hope in the possibility that I would find one, especially in this economy.  For the past two-and-a-half months, I have spent HOURS EVERY DAY scouring the internet for job postings and applying to approximately seven of them on average each day.  Maybe 10 companies contacted me back throughout that entire time – and I was always rejected every time either because my Master’s degree made me overqualified or because I didn’t have enough job experience.  I was truly beginning to think that my only option was that I was going to have to ask Beast for a job at his distributorship.

Be that as it may, I immediately burst into tears of joyous relief following that phone call.  After composing myself, the first person I called was Beast; I couldn’t wait for him to know that I wasn’t just this overrated failure after all.  However, he was unreachable because he was in-flight on his way home from wherever it is that he was this time, which, I believe, was out-of-the-country (he travels a lot for work, both nationally and internationally).  So, unsurprisingly, the next person I called was Martyr.  And she didn’t answer either!  Ahh – all I wanted to do was share my wonderful news with someone else!  Mario was working, so I texted him, and then I called Scarlet.  Someone FINALLY picked up! That conversation went as can be expected and then Martyr called me back.

Martyr was, of course, incredibly enthusiastic (she went on and on about how god “blessed” me with this job and how she’d been praying and praying that I would get this particular job) and we decided to go to Polly’s for celebratory wine and lunch.  Punky was the day bartender/server.  Punky currently lives with Leto in the apartment below mine since Belle moved out.  She’s really cool; I like her a lot.  Anyways, after Martyr and I had finished eating, Punky insisted on buying me a congratulatory dessert.  That was really nice of her to do and something I wasn’t expecting – so I gratefully accepted it and made her indulge in a bite or two with me!

Also while we were at Polly’s, Beast got around to calling me back and I was able to share my good news with him.  After finishing our drinks (I had a few more than Martyr, who was driving), Martyr dropped me back off at my apartment and we set up plans to send Chip and Dale to pick me up later this evening and bring me to the house for dinner.

Then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, B&B called me back at around 3 this afternoon to discuss with me the exact details of my offer.  In our previous discussions, they had left me with the expectation of a salary somewhere in the ballpark of $75,000.  That was shocking enough.  But this, I was in no way prepared for:  the HR woman on the phone told me that I will be receiving an annual salary of $85,000 PLUS 10% bonuses PLUS benefits:  health, vision, and dental insurance AND a relocation package.

Yea.

This news literally left me in shock – my whole body shaking in utter, well, shock.  Throughout the entire delivery of this information, I pretty much just sat there in silence with my jaw gaping wide open.  At the end of the (one-way) conversation after informing me of all this, the HR woman then said, “I know that’s a little more than we had discussed…”

Yea, no kidding!

Communication Breakdown (Continued)

(Originally written on July 27, 2009)

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Yesterday, I told Scarlet about Gaston’s text from Saturday and asked for his opinion on the matter.  Scarlet is really good with that kind of stuff.  He suggested that I simply say hello back, that there was no harm in saying hi.  He made a good point; I was convinced.  So, starting with Gaston’s text from Saturday, here’s how the exchange went:

Hey

Hi

How are u

I’m okay.  How are you?

Im good just bored in [south Georgia] trying to bide my time working on the job hunt

And that was that.  And let me just get this out of my system real quick:  I HATE it when

1. people can’t write out the word “you”, and
2. when people don’t use at least somewhat proper punctuation.

Okay, that’s better.  So anyways, I mean, Gaston didn’t really leave me with anywhere to take the conversation from that point.  What was I supposed to say?  “Yea, me too”?  So that was it.

A Not-So-Encouraging Forewarning

(Originally written on July 16, 2009)

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B&B didn’t even pick up my hotel room…yet it’s odd that they paid for my car service and flights…  I have never heard of a company flying in a potential hire and not picking up the hotel room.  Beast, Martyr, and Scarlet were all just as shocked.  When I spoke with Scarlet about it last night before going to bed, he suggested that if I get the job, to just cut my losses and swallow the cost, but that if I don’t get the job, to then contact B&B and ask for reimbursement.  So that’s the plan.

God, I woke up so early this morning.

I have definitely gained a substantial amount of weight.  My suit skirt is quite tight/snug around my ass and my top vest button is barely holding on…

The woman who would be my boss at B&B if I get the job told me that there were a lot of young people here – a lot of new MBA grads – and that they all live in the city (the B&B office is in a town about 15 minutes outside of the city).  That’s exciting, at least; it gives me hope that I could actually meet someone here.  However, she also recommended to me during my interview that I don’t immediately get the new car Beast promised me for graduation…because it’s Philly…  She told me that one girl parked in the wrong spot and her car got keyed and that another guy’s car got hit when he parked in the wrong spot.  Then, she told me that peoples’ cars get broken into all of the time.  I get that she was probably just trying to look out for me in the long run (and hopefully sure that I am the right candidate to hire), but it didn’t exactly encourage me in knowing that Philly is where I want to live.

What have I done?

(Originally written on June 2, 2009)

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Long story short, I “quit” the Chickadee job today.  Remember that drug screen that they made me take on my first day?  Yea…well it came back positive for amphetamines because I take Vyvanse (a time-release Adderall, essentially).  All I had to do was call the doc with my prescription number to substantiate its presence in my system, but I decided simply not to do so.  So technically I got fired, but I really basically quit.  God, I hated that job so much.  Good riddance!

•     •     •     •     •

All throughout this ordeal with Gaston, I have confided in Scarlet and Martyr and sought their advice.  Scarlet has consistently told me from the very beginning – before the shit hit the fan, even – that I need to pull myself out of my “relationship” with Gaston and just move on.  He has also constantly reminded me of how Gaston treats me like shit and that I can do better.  On the other hand, Martyr, being the hopeless romantic idealist that she is, started off telling me that everything would be okay and Gaston and I would end up back together.  However, as Gaston has prolonged the situation, even Martyr has turned to telling me that I should just end it myself.

I called Gaston on my way home from work Thursday evening to see if he would tell me his decision over the phone.  He wouldn’t, of course, and really emphasized that he wanted to talk in person.  He told me that his decision was made, but that my reaction may change his mind.  That’s why it is so imperative that we have the discussion face-to-face.  This convinced me that he was going to end whatever it was between us, yet left me with a little bit of hope that I could salvage our relationship.  How do I need to react in order to change his mind? That question has been flooding my mind ever since then.  However, I’ve still been preparing myself for the “breakup” because I am almost positive that’s what he’s decided to do.

Well, Gaston did come back into town on Sunday, as he said he would, but it wasn’t until late in the evening.  I had been anxiously awaiting his call all day to tell me to come over and we would have our chat.  But I was tired and knew that I had to get up early in the morning and go to work.  I guess I figured that I had already waited so long that one more day couldn’t hurt.  I also didn’t want to bug him any more about it; he got really agitated on Thursday when I asked him to go ahead and tell me over the phone.  It was his responsibility to tell me whenever he was ready.  However, he didn’t even call me on Sunday night, not even to tell me to wait until Monday…

Monday passes (yesterday).  Still haven’t received a single word from Gaston.

I got home from work this afternoon and Gaston’s car was sitting in the parking lot.  That was it; I’d had it.  He said he was finally going to inform me of his decision on Sunday after a month of making me wait and here it’s Tuesday and he hasn’t even texted or called me!  I decided that I was just going to have to end it myself.  I went up to my apartment, fuming, and gathered all the stuff I had that was his:  a jacket, a t-shirt (both of which I made sure to spritz with my perfume), and two computer programs.  All the while, I was thinking about what Scarlet has been telling me to do for so long now.  I walked down to his apartment and knocked on his locked bedroom door.  Thankfully, Napoleon wasn’t there.  When Gaston opened the door and saw me standing there, he asked me,

What is this?

This is all your stuff that I had in my apartment.

Okay…

And regardless of whatever your decision is, this is mine:  I just can’t do this anymore.  I just can’t.  No one has ever made me feel so bad about myself and I have never been so belittled and disrespected by anyone in my entire life – let alone someone who I loved and who supposedly loved me.  I just can’t spend any more tears on you.

So…the part about me wanting to end our relationship:  it’s true, but it isn’t.  Obviously, I was high on anger and Scarlet’s and Martyr’s advice.  I’ve tried so hard to convince myself that it’s true.  I know it should be true and by no means do I enjoy the pain he’s caused me, but, for some reason, I’m still willing to suffer if he’ll just have me.

Well, this (as can be expected, I suppose) upset Gaston and he started pacing frantically.  Then I asked him,

So what was your decision?

Well it wasn’t that.

Then what was it?

You’re never going to know.

WHAT?!  After all this time, I believe I have the right to know.

Well get over it because you never will.  You’ve made the decision, so what I wanted doesn’t matter anymore.

When I asked him why he hadn’t contacted me since he’s been in town, he simply said, “Because it’s hard and it’s not exactly something that I was looking forward to doing.” For nearly three hours we proceeded to debate the decision.  And every time I tried to convince him that what I said wasn’t what I really wanted, he shot back with, “Well it came from somewhere,” or, “You said ‘regardless’ of what my decision was, so it really must be what you want,” or, “Well then why’d you say it?” even though I had explained myself 10 times.  During most of the discussion, we were cuddling on the sofa, holding hands, with me crying (go figure).  At one point, I desperately pleaded,

Remember in February after we decided to just be friends and then got drunk a few days later and I ended up staying the night with you?  We just can’t help but be together.  The next morning you cried and begged me to stay because you told me that you were afraid it was going to be the last time you ever got to lay with me. That happened for a reason; you felt that way for a reason and I refuse to believe that you just don’t feel that way anymore.

The discussion ended with Gaston telling me that no (new) decision would be reached tonight, that we would pick it back up tomorrow and that he would take my explanation(s) into consideration.  Again, the outlook is grim, yet I’m still holding on to that little glimmer of hope.  What have I done?

Sidetracked

(Originally written on May 19, 2009)

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Gaston called me at around 1:40pm (EDT).  I called him back (not sure if I should have, but I did) while waiting for my lunch-interview and told him that I would call him once I got to my hotel in San Francisco.  That was the first time we’ve spoken since the 14^th (Thursday to Tuesday, five days, without any communication whatsoever).  He just wanted to call and see, “How is Cali?”

It’s now 3pm local time and I’m sitting at the hotel bar with a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.  There is a trio of middle-aged ladies at a table nearby that Martyr would absolutely love.  They’re talking about pets (dogs and cats, to be specific) and guzzling wine.  They remind me a lot of her.

Gaston just called me and is now throwing me off from what I thought I had avowed myself to do about our current situation.  He just wanted to chitchat.  Then I pointed out that we haven’t spoken in five days.  He didn’t even realize that it had been so long until he thought about it (therefore, my purposeful avoidance went unnoticed).  Throughout our conversation, I was trying to be short, but I really did enjoy hearing from him.  I mean, I had this whole realistic and logical explanation for why he hadn’t called thought through in my mind:  that he thought I was upset/mad since I hadn’t contacted him (which I was) and that he, consequently, was going to wait on me to get over it and contact him whenever I was ready to talk it out (which I was committing myself never to do).  So much for that…  Anyways, he said that he had actually thought about calling me before today, that there wasn’t much else to do in south Georgia.  Boy, how commending.  Go figure – that’s all he said about it.

Still no mention of his decision, no hint of progress.  Nothing.

So I have now thrown myself off of the track I had committed myself to.  I don’t know what I’m going to tell Scarlet.  I’ve never lied to him and don’t even want to think about starting, but I’m just not so sure I can resist Gaston if he does decide to give me another chance.  And I’m not sure why.  I know, logically, that I shouldn’t, but, emotionally, I am intensely inclined to let him take me back – even though I recognize that’s backwards and that it should be a joint decision.

Ultimately, I need to either grow a pair and just commit to my decision, or just give myself time enough to do so without doubt.  My heart is so weak…

At the same time, I can’t help but question how in-tune Gaston may be to this fact.  After this entire ordeal, I can’t control my suspicions, even though everything inside me wants to bury them beyond even my own memory.

Why am I contributing ingredients to this recipe for my own disaster?

Ironically, the song playing at the bar right now:

If he don’t love you by now,

He ain’t never ever gonna love you.

Ooooh-ooh-ooh-ooh!

I should have listened to those lyrics months ago, and I should take them even further into consideration now.

I need to just think of the guide from my personal Bacchus winery tour today:  gorgeous, young, funny…  I should focus on knowing that there are better guys out there – even in Modesto!

Takeoff

(Originally written on May 17, 2009)

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I have officially decided (again) that I am getting rid of Gaston and that crowd of friends for good.  I still haven’t heard anything from Gaston; this is the third day without any contact whatsoever between us.  I know this is the right thing to do – I mean, he (supposedly) doesn’t even have time to think about “us” and told me, “I’m not sure you’re worth it.”

I am currently leaving to go to California for a series of interviews with Bacchus.  There is a couple sitting next to me on the plane cuddling really sweetly and they’re making me lovesick.  I know (somewhere inside me) I don’t want to be with Gaston, but I do still yearn for a relationship.  I think that’s why I’ve waited on him for so long.  BUT I know that I just can’t do that anymore and I just need to “purge” myself of him (as Scarlet put it).  I’ve actually stopped hanging out with all of them these past three days – Napoleon, Leto, Yuengling, everyone.  Both Scarlet and Mario agree that it’s what’s best.

I know I’m gonna look back at the time I’ve spent with them and regret it, but it really does hurt to knowingly purge them when I have practically no one else to be around and hang out with.  Perhaps that’s more the reason to move somewhere far, far away – if for nothing else (besides a job, obviously) than to get away from the constant reminder of this catastrophe.

There is a surprising number of Europeans on this flight…

GOD! I wish they would stop kissing!

Good to Know I’m Not the Only One

(Originally written on May 16, 2009)

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Remember the post detailing the time I ran into X at one of my friend’s band’s shows?  Well that friend is Mario and I know him from high school.  He has told me that I was the first girl at our high school that was ever nice to him (he transferred in the 10^th grade from a Christian school; we ate lunch together, Spring semester of that year, I believe).  Anyways, he started dating Hippo around the same time X and I started dating.  And I’m not calling her Hippo because she’s fat!  I mean, she is a little on the bigger side, but that’s beside the point – she used to be obsessed with drawing hippopotamuses in high school.  I don’t know, she may still be; I never knew her beyond an acquaintance (and still don’t).

Well, Mario and Hippo just broke up this past September and tonight Mario and I discussed it over dinner at Los Compadres.  He explained to me that what’s helped him the most has been living for himself and not for pleasing someone else (both Flower-Child and Scarlet have tried sharing that same concept with me before…I guess it’s different when you hear it coming from someone currently going through it).  What hit me the hardest was when he told me,

I realized I was happy by making her happy.  Then I stepped back and saw how shitty she was treating me.  I was living as she wanted me to, I wasn’t myself.

And they were together for five years…  How can I let Gaston do the exact same thing to me and yet we weren’t/aren’t even “dating”?

Cinco De Mayo

(Originally written on May 5, 2009)

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I am currently sitting in my apartment playing Power Hour by myself with Kings of Leon songs.  Earlier this evening, I went out with Scarlet to Los Compadres for multiple margaritas.  Regrettably, Gaston was supposed to go with me.  Obviously, that didn’t happen.

Gaston just revealed to me on Sunday that he, too, knew the web address of my blog and had read it.  There has been nothing but disaster since then.  I just don’t understand, even now, why he waited over a week to tell me about it – especially since he was embarrassed by it and knew that our other friends had been reading it (even though I had no clue).  Apparently, whenever I’m not at Polly’s, they all call him “Gaston” now – including the employees.

I mean, I fully understand his being upset, but WHY WAIT TO TELL ME?!  Not just that, but he had been exceptionally caring and sweet to me during that period leading up to the disastrous revelation.  I mean, he was kissing me in public, holding my hand, dancing with me, cuddling, and sleeping with me – all things that he doesn’t normally do, let alone, instigate.  How can you do those things with someone when you’re fuming inside with anger at them?

Earlier today, he said that he would definitely consider giving me a second chance.  Then, later on (about three or four hours later), he blew up:  he had previously promised that he would go to Los Compadres with me since Teddy had been asking to meet him; he was waiting on Whitie to call him to take him to get a prescription filled (Whitie is legally blind, as many albinos are, and therefore can’t drive); there was an MMR Cinco de Mayo party going on starting at 3pm that I missed because I was waiting on the call from Gaston telling me that he was ready to go.  I knew another party that he was going to started at 8pm, so at 7pm I decided to come down and ask him about going to Los Compadres since he hadn’t answered any of my calls or texts; I was locked out and he told me he’d come let me in in a minute.  I waited for 15 minutes before going up to my apt to get my “break-in” card.  Even after that, he made me wait a few minutes outside of his locked bedroom door before opening it.

Turns out that he was just locked in his room playing a computer game the whole time.  That’s why I was kept waiting outside, being eaten alive by mosquitoes.

I then asked him if he still wanted to go to Los Compadres with me since it was already 7:30pm and I, with the information he had previously provided me with, knew that he had the birthday party to go to at 8pm.

As I said earlier, he was receptive to my request for a second chance.   At this point, however, he was pissed-off that at 7:30pm he hadn’t realized that he had let the day pass him by.  Thus, I assumed that his anger was due to these inconvenient circumstances (besides his obvious preexisting frustration with me, of course).  Then he realized that he didn’t have a new razor head and “had to” shave with a dull one.  I offered to go grab a new one from my apartment (which would have taken all of 30 seconds…), but he insisted on using his dull one.  Why do that?

So I sat there and we had regular conversation while he was shaving.  Then he checked his phone and finally got my texts about being eaten alive by mosquitoes.  He proceeds to scold me, “You shouldn’t have let them bite you.”  Okay…there was a swarm of probably 20 of them, and you can’t feel it while they’re biting you, only afterwards when you itch.  I had three large welts on my back (I was wearing a floor-length, strapless dress), two on my right arm, and one on my left shoulder.  He then EXPLODED and ensued yelling at me for scratching the bites, “You’re not supposed to scratch them!  They’re going to get infected!”

I know that you aren’t supposed to scratch them, but in all my life, I have been bitten by thousands of mosquitoes (they love me for some reason) and I have always scratched my bites and never once has one of them gotten infected.

In a fit of rage, he left the apartment and I followed him out.  I mentioned that the whole going-to-his-friend’s-birthday-party-tonight thing was probably “more important” than accompanying me to Los Compadres. Then he ERUPTED and started speed-walking to his car, not allowing me to even explain myself:  a couple of weeks ago, he was supposed to go to her dance recital, but he didn’t go because he was hung-over and we were just chilling on the sofa, watching TV.  Finally, I was able to get a word in and explain this, upon which he spat back, “Well I wonder what I was doing instead,” and then furiously drove off, causing my major crisis of the day.

•     •     •     •     •

Yuengling wants to be there for me, but he is the cause of this whole thing in the first place.  I mean, he told Gaston about the time he (Yuengling) kissed me when I was sloshed (after which, I told him that it wasn’t okay) without ever even telling me he felt that was necessary or that he was going to do it.  Then, Napoleon told Gaston that he had seen Yuengling leaving my apartment at 8am one morning.  Okay – there was one time that we accidentally had passed out on my sofa while watching An American Tail:  Fivel Goes West after an evening at Polly’s.  Yuengling and I both agree (conflicting Napoleon’s account) that we woke up by around 4:30am and he definitely left by 5am.

•     •     •     •     •

I am now just deciding to avoid Gaston at all costs.  I have essentially lost almost – no, all – of my friends due to this and have no one other than Angel and Scarlet to turn to for advice.

•     •     •     •     •

I honestly love him.  I know a million people can tell me that I don’t deserve the way he treats me; BUT I also know that a million people would never do to him the disservice that I did by posting our personal interactions publically over the internet.

I have royally fucked myself over.

The Beginning of the Blog Disaster

(Originally written on April 30, 2009)

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Every semester, the Friday that would normally be the last day of classes is set aside as “Reading Day”, a day during which all classes are cancelled with the intention that students hole themselves up in the library or SLC (which stands for Student Learning Center for those of you who are not familiar with this abbreviation) to study for the final exams that lie ahead of them.  Naturally, this makes Thursday the last day of classes – however, the class schedule on this Thursday is as it would be if it were a Monday.  I believe this is done because classes are most often cancelled on Mondays in lieu of holidays (e.g., Labor Day, MLK, Jr. Day, Memorial Day, etc…).

Anyways, yesterday’s (Wednesday) class schedule was as usual, so, basically, we had our MW (abbreviation for Monday/Wednesday) classes three out of the four days this week.  Today I turned in two final projects:  one for each of the classes I have on MW (which are both taught by the same prof).  He’s a pretty smart guy in figuring that we were all going to procrastinate on both of our projects, even though we had the entire semester to do them.  So, instead of having regular class yesterday, he made it optional to come to the classroom during normal class hours to ask any questions about our projects that we may have still had remaining.

Scarlet and I decided to go to our first class promptly at 9:30am so that we could go ahead and get our questions asked early and then resume our analysis and report writing (the questions we had were important to get answered before proceeding so not to waste time and effort doing work that was incorrect).  By 10am or so, we had gotten all of those questions addressed.  Scarlet went home, but I instead decided to go to Polly’s and resume working on my projects so that I could still conveniently go back to campus for the second class period later – just in case I had any other vital questions arise.

By around noon, I ended up having gotten everything done except the proofreading of the write-ups, which I decided I was just going to get up early and do this morning.  Just about five minutes after making this decision, Sly ended up coming in early for his bartending shift and he joined me in drinking the afternoon away.  Working behind the bar at this point were Kip, Shooter, and Cranberry (Shooter’s smiley-er older brother).

I’ve met Cranberry a handful of times, but I was drunk every time, so I couldn’t remember his name.  Thus, I decided to “re-introduce” myself and everything was all “oh, it’s nice to officially re-meet you” and whatnot.  HOWEVER, about a half-hour later Cranberry approached me with the following question:

Oooh – are you the girl with the blog?

I mean, a lot of people have blogs these days…that’s a kinda odd question to ask someone you just “met”.  With a skeptic look on my face I replied,

Yea…I have a blog…

You’re the one who uses Disney names for people, right?

Once more, I was taken aback.  How could this guy – that I don’t really even know – know that about me?  Again, I skeptically replied,

Yea…

Oh, that’s some juicy stuff!

I was MORTIFIED.  I was completely comfortable posting such intimate details of my life on the internet for all to see because everything was anonymous.  But now that comfort of being protected under a blanket of secrecy was all gone.  My mind was swarming with questions.  How does he know about my blog?  If he knows, who all else knows?  OH MY GOD…DOES GASTON KNOW?

I sat there in shock for a couple of minutes with all of this flowing through my mind.  I mean, this could potentially change the nature of a majority of my friendships.  Not just that, but people I don’t even know (but I know who they are and visa-versa) may have unfavorable impressions of me and think they know me and who I am (I mean, this is obviously me, but not the “me” that I openly project to the general public).  Who knows how far the reverberations from this can extend?

Meanwhile, Sly kept pleading, “Juicy stuff?!  I want to read this blog!  I mean, Cranberry’s read it – and you had to ask me what his name was earlier!”

There was only one person (other than Scarlet, who doesn’t hang out with the Polly’s crowd anyway) who knew about my blog’s exact web address:  Yuengling.  I mean, everyone knows that I have a blog, but they also know that I want to keep it anonymous.  Here’s how he found out:  one afternoon at Polly’s, probably between my classes on a Monday or Wednesday, Yuengling stumbled upon me posting an entry and asked me what I was doing.  He caught me off-guard (I had probably consumed a few beers and was off my A-game) and I told him it was my blog – BUT I made him swear to secrecy, never to tell anyone.  He was the only possible leak.

At the moment, the only way to find out if Yuengling was, in fact, the culprit was to ask Cranberry.

How do you know about my blog?

Slim was showing it to me just the other night.

How the hell does Slim know (Slim works in the kitchen at Polly’s, by the way)?  And how long ago was the web address of my blog released to the public?  …Cranberry said “the other night”…  And if Slim casually showed my blog to Cranberry, who all else did he inform?

I asked the other bartenders if they knew.

• Kip:  yes.
• Shooter:  yes.
• Voodoo:  yes.

I immediately called and texted Yuengling.  A couple of times, actually.  No response.

Once I got back from Polly’s, I dropped my stuff off in my apartment, deleted my blog from the internet, and went downstairs to see what the neighbors were up to.  Gaston, Napoleon, and Leto were all chilling in Gaston’s and Napoleon’s apartment watching TV.  After sitting down next to Gaston, I announced, “Oh my god, everyone at Polly’s knows about my blog and has read it.  Yuengling must have told them – he’s the only one who knew.  But oh well, I’ve taken it down anyways.”  Not a word in response from either of the three of them.  I just figured this was because they were deeply absorbed into whatever it was that they were watching on TV.

When the show ended, Gaston and Leto headed for downtown and I headed up to bed.  Yuengling still hadn’t called or texted me back. To me, this silence was an immediate admission of guilt.  All afternoon and night I awaited his explanation and got nothing.

…until this afternoon.  I received an e-mail from Yuengling (not sure how he found my e-mail address…).  An e-mail.  In it, he basically put all the blame on me and said that other people also knew about my blog without him telling them.  Okay…and how is that possible, exactly – given that it contained nothing identifiable as either myself or any of the others that I wrote about? Anyways, he claimed that Slim was the only person he told and that it happened accidentally:  Yuengling had been looking at my blog on his phone’s internet browser; Slim asked to borrow said phone;  Yuengling handed it over; Slim asked what was up on the browser; Yuengling told him.  This, of course, happened at Polly’s (Yuengling basically lives there, he’s there every day and night, literally) and Yuengling claimed it was a drunk slip-up and that he didn’t even remember it happened until I asked about it.  Okay, we all make stupid drunken mistakes.  Whatever.  I just wish he could have told me right after it happened.

Later on this afternoon, I ran into Leto on my way to our apartment “pool” (pool in quotes because it’s so small it can easily be confused with a puddle).  We talked for a few minutes and I expressed my concern about my blog’s discovery.  Then she tells me that she has known about my blog for about a week.  Why didn’t she say something last night when I mentioned it? The next question out of my mouth:  “Does Gaston know about it?”  She says he doesn’t.  phew! Then, oddly enough, she tells me,

Don’t take this the wrong way, but you actually write really well.  I was surprised.

I mean, I’ll take a compliment, but said this in a really authoritative way, with an air of “I’m smarter than you”.  Let’s see here, I do have a Bachelor’s degree and am about to have my Master’s – she doesn’t even have a Bachelor’s degree!  What would make her think…ahh whatever. Well at least someone said something that wasn’t directed toward the “juicy” nature of the content.

I have a feeling that, even though I’ve taken care of removing my blog from the internet, I haven’t seen the end of the reverberations from this.  All I can do now is wait and see…

Hopeless Uncertainty

(Originally written on April 13, 2009)

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With all of the stress from school, Gaston, and being a jobless Master’s student with no experience that will graduate in less than a month, I occasionally break down and have mini-freak-outs.  The last time was probably two weeks ago or so.  I called Martyr, crying, and she asked if I would like to receive a trip to visit Samantha, since I don’t exactly have the money to pay for it myself.  This was quite a comforting idea that brought the mini-freak-out to an end and got me excited about seeing Samantha for the first time in about a year.

I received a call from my darling Samantha this weekend only to find out that her nursing school in Maine starts May 11^th as opposed to starting in August (she had just found this out herself).  I graduate on May 9^th.  Definitely not enough time to see her once I graduate.  This was a disappointing bummer, especially when taking into account the following topic.

My most promising job lead right now is with a winery in northern California.  I love wine and I think I would really enjoy the job and the atmosphere.  However, I know ABSOLUTELY NO ONE out there.  My immediate family and Martyr’s family are all in the southeast and Beast’s family all live in Ohio.  I am really excited about the opportunity, but I am scared out of my mind of going so far away – that’s a difference of three time zones!

I would also probably move out there (this is all assuming I get a job offer, of course) and start working at the beginning of June.  My 23^rd birthday is on June 12^th, so I would immediately be spending my birthday somewhere I will only have lived one-and-a-half weeks and know no one.  Okay, I would have acquaintances from work by that point – but still!

In case you haven’t noticed, I overanalyze a lot and always think about how present decisions will affect my future.  This also causes me to (probably unnecessarily) worry a lot.

•     •     •     •     •

Yesterday (Easter), Gaston was supposed to have gone to the Master’s tournament after church with his grandmother (church with his grandmother, not the Master’s), but that ended up not being the case for whatever reason.  He got back in town around 5pm and called me when he pulled into the apartment parking lot, telling me that he “brought back a present for [me] from [south Georgia].”

Holy shit.  He openly avows (and always has) that he doesn’t do stuff like Valentine’s Day specialties/gifts/whatever or anniversary crap either.  No cards, candy, flowers, etc. – none of that romantic stuff.  For example, I bought him a rare hat for Christmas this year, receiving nothing in return.  I mean, he told me upfront about how he is, I guess I wasn’t sure if that applied to Christmas too.  Whatever.

So anyways, I came out of my apartment and down to his car (which was parked right outside of his apartment and where he was unloading his stuff).  He pulled out a small stem of three Azaleas and tucked it behind my ear, telling me,

All the women in my family wear Azaleas behind their ears on Easter – even my grandmother.  I love Azaleas; they’re my favorite flower.  My mom and sister brought these back from Augusta.

I practically melted.  That was so sweet and out of character for him.

Still won’t kiss me, though.

•     •     •     •     •

This morning, upon entering the classroom, I started feeling slightly sick.  I told Scarlet that if I suddenly ran out of class it would be because I was feeling funny.  Literally 30-45 seconds later, my nose starts bleeding.  FML.

True story.

Ha ha!  In case you aren’t familiar with that format, you need to check out the website www.fmylife.com.  I love indulging in its gloriousness!