remember that entry when I mentioned that I'm oddly attracted to bio majors
Thursday. 3.21.13 10:18 pm
He has adorable freckles and blushes when the manager asks him if the girl in the picture with him is his girlfriend. Just friends, he says, genuinely.
Quiet, well-spoken, observant. Immediately I'm attracted to him.
Wouldn't it be funny...
"What major are you?" Him.
"Español," he responds.
He asks me to guess.
No I don't like this game. Because I think I already know, because it's always the same thing, regardless of what college they go to or what they look like or how they dress--
"Give me a category."
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO GO AWAY
"Biology major, pre-med concentration." I say with no anticipation.
"You would be correct."
OF COURSE I AM.
FUTURE DOCTORS ARE LIKE GIANT PIECES OF FLY PAPER.
If you want to know why my entries come late at night:
Tuesday. 3.19.13 11:42 pm
Clarification: Two presidents, two different organizations. A, K.
Maybe just till ten.
Realize that there's no time, tomorrow, to make bread for bake sale; consider e-mailing president (K) and asking if I can't bring it at the time of the sale. Realize I don't want to go to that trouble. Set out ingredients, mix dry, read over recipe once more, and hatch a plan to get it in the oven by 6:20am and frosted by 7:40. Will carry it around campus till 2pm, when I can set it in the office and reheat the lunch I left in the fridge.
Smile when considering the fantastic lunch I'll have tomorrow.
Make a smoothie for tomorrow morning in anticipation for the hard shift I forgot to not look forward to.
Drink the remnants of the smoothie in the blender. Other half of dinner.
Proceed to cook beans so sandwiches are already half made. Drain, cool, pack. Fill out scholarship applications. Frown, because I never win scholarships.
Frown, because I'm already a junior and no one wants to give a junior a scholarship.
Just a few more minutes.
An e-mail from the president (A) asking me to create fliers, send an announcement e-mail to our school activities system (which sends out a mass e-mail with everything to do on campus), create a Facebook post, and do whatever else I like.
Glance over fliers. Write Facebook post but save till tomorrow. Write e-mail and send right away with a polite "Please" to get the event high on the activities list. Hatch a plan for revised fliers and wonder about gluing label-free pill bottles with slips of paper promoting our Facebook to our fliers.
Choose not to mention the past part in my reply, since I'm still thinking it over. Imagine it might come off as weird...but also think it might be just inventive and catchy enough to work.
Update Facebook group, announce our transition to pages, Like the new page, ask about adding other executive members to the administrative level on the page--don't expect a reply tonight.
They hired the right person.
Realize it's been a month since an e-mail about my California trip graced my inbox. Haven't replied. Take time to research events, take interest in giant science academy, note that, and ask if surfing is burdensome. Take time to talk about father quitting smoking, weather, other happy things.
Lots of love,
Download photos K sent for recent event. Crop out the ass of someone who didn't realize how translucent her yoga pants were. Mentally nickname her Miss Booty and complain about her throughout photo editing process. Add light, darken shadows. Crop. Straighten. Cuss at whoever took these. Crop. No one wants a photo composed mostly of grass and sky. Who are you. I'll find you and teach you photography. Menace to society, crop, straighten.
Finally upload photos. Remind members to tag themselves.
Wash dishes, pack backpack. Pack warm weather shoes for after work.
Wonder how I'm alive.
Get e-mail response from A. Apparently am rocking her socks. Cackle gleefully at own job well done.
Take a moment to brag.
Another e-mail from A's club. Check calendar and reply with availability.
Hardly ever available, anymore. Constantly have to choose date and time for dates and social appointments, now, because people otherwise think I'm trying to get out of it by always saying I have plans. Hope someone will try planning something in June. Not much to do in June.
Set alarm for 5:50.
flowers come after the storm
Sunday. 3.17.13 3:14 pm
also some casual language??
BOOM GOES THE FRIENDSHIP.
Let's take it from the top.
New York Dude was on Spring Break, right? And he decided he wanted to come down to Charleston for a day, which made me super skeptical, because it kind of felt like he was just trying to see me?
But anyway, I told him that was neat, and he asked if I wanted to do something. I told him to let me know what he was doing, and I'd let him know if I had time. But, I also told him I had a kayaking retreat, and that I might be too busy, so I would just catch up with him whenever afterward.
That was that.
So, yesterday was his day down here. He called at eight and told me he was headed towards downtown, which was a problem, because I wasn't ready at all. Kayaking is exhausting, and I spent most of my afternoon getting myself home and eating sandwiches to get my calorie count back up.
I told him I wasn't ready. He said fine, he might go grab a beer somewhere while he waited.
So I got there, about forty minutes later, and he'd decided to SIT IN HIS CAR AND WAIT FOR ME. I figured he'd gone to a bar and was happy to waste some time there, based on what he himself had said.
Whatever floats your boat, though, right?
So we grabbed food at my favorite local coffee shop, and sat out on the patio for an hour and a half or so. It was fine. I didn't feel anything towards him, but it was good to see a friend, and I hoped that was good enough for him, too, since he said it would be.
What I've learned from myself in messy situations such as these, though, is that people lie. Mostly in the hope that this lie might hold onto someone a little longer.
But you aren't holding onto someone in the first place, if you have to lie. That's what I learned from this particular situation.
He confronted me via text, once he got home. He seemed pretty level-headed, so I told him most of the truth. I don't think maybe people are brave enough to come out and say, "My feelings have changed," but I tried to be as honest as possible about the situation.
And I guess that opened all sorts of new doors for him. He took the same approach I used to use, of asking questions in order to get closure--which doesn't work, by the way, as long as someone is in your life. At least, finding peace with everything that happened doesn't, which is something entirely different...and also entirely more useful.
I answered them as well as I could, but I think he was just waiting for me to tell him the truth, just like I was always waiting. I don't like you anymore.
As much as my reasons were SO apart from that, he just wanted to hear it. And I get that. As much as it sucks, you just want to know, one way or another, and having someone avoid that tiny but enormous kindness is just...ugh.
I empathize. I do.
It's just a bad place to be. I told him this was casual so we wouldn't ever have to have this talk, forgetting completely about my own past disappointments in that area. They call these situations messy for a reason.
From now on, I'm just going to reject people who want something unofficial. And I'm not going to suggest that life, either. There's this website called Unfuck Your Habitat, which I've been following to see if I can't be a bit neater, but I think the problem is that I need to unfuck my life.
I hate when people are supportive of decisions like these, though, because I know a lot of my friends have been waiting for me to say all this for a long time. You have to let people make their own mistakes and learn these things on their own. It isn't going to stick if someone else tells you it's best--you have to go through it all and know for sure that it's true. Everything I've done, I've done because I haven't yet learned that it's best not to. Encouragement and discouragement, as sweet as they sometimes are, are like weapons with things like these. So please keep that in mind, when reading and responding to this. I did it all on purpose, and this was the only path I ever should have taken to figuring all this out.
on wanting a pair of heels but getting a stalker
Friday. 3.15.13 7:25 pm
I'm hanging out in Shoe Carnival, trying to find some nude heels with the bit of extra cash I've acquired. I see this guy in a grey shirt walking around a lot, but he hovers generally around this woman and a kid, so I assume they're a family. Nice. Cool.
So why are my flags going up? They don't go up for nothing. If there's one thing I trust, in this whole world, it's my own subconscious observation, because it is KEEN.
This is why I decide it's time to get out of there and go to check out. I see him go over to the men's section, closer to the registers, as I'm paying, which doesn't make me feel any better.
But then, when I leave, he's waiting outside like someone is inside checking out, so I think, Maybe I'm okay. Even so, I make it a point not to make eye contact or acknowledge him, as I go to cross the street. I drop my stuff in my car safely and head into one more shop to buy a couple tops, and everything seems fine.
Until he's there, too. Until, every time I look up, he's directly across the aisle in the men's section, inspecting something.
This is the point where I get really fucking freaked out. I'm trying to think of it from a stranger's point of view, where maybe his wife and kid are still in Shoe Carnival, but he got bored and wanted to shop a bit?
--But, my gut wasn't buying it. I was seeing him way too frequently, and something just seemed up.
So I made a beeline to the dressing rooms, hoping that, if I stayed and tried enough things on (or at least took loads of time), he might just lose my trail or give up. And coming out of the dressing room, I thought that worked. I saw short brown hair and a grey shirt in the back, engrossed in something else, so I took that opportunity to slip out of the store and rush to my car, before he could realize I was gone.
Except the grey shirt and brown hair in the back of the store didn't belong to the same person.
I got to my car and still felt watched, which I wasn't about to attribute to nothing, given the circumstances. But he's inside! my conscious mind argued.
Obviously not, my subconscious returned.
But how...oh. Okay, shit.
And as I was within five feet of my car, keys out, I put it all together.
Of course he didn't lose my trail or give up. This is someone who's good at this, if he's able to look down or away before I turn my head--that's not something that comes naturally. If he loses my trail and he knows where I have to go before leaving, he's going to go there. Home base.
And home base is your car, I finished.
GET IN YOUR CAR RIGHT NOW AND LOCK THE DOORS.
A black car rolls across two aisles in the parking lot towards me, and those raise the ULTIMATE red flags, because I KNOW there are closer spots, and I'm parked pretty far back. Just as I see him popping out of his car, I have mine started and am GONE GOODBYE ADIOS, my shopping bag still twisted around my wrist.
This is one of those times when I look back and think, "WHY DID I NOT GET A PLATE NUMBER," BUT YOU CAN'T THINK THAT BECAUSE I WAS JUST STALKED HARDCORE.
EUUUGHHH TRUST YOUR INSTINCTS, FRIENDS, THEY WILL KEEP YOU FROM GETTING STUFFED IN A TRUNK.
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