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on wanting a pair of heels but getting a stalker
Friday. 3.15.13 7:25 pm
language warning.



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.

SHIT.

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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do whatever?
Friday. 3.15.13 12:03 am

I got another PR position in a different club, so now I'm handling that. I offered to work, this year, even though I'm not technically on till next year. The president said absolutely, that their last person dropped the position and that they could use the help.

So I asked kind of what she would like, what sorts of fliers they had in the past, and so on. She sent samples, threw out some ideas for the next event, and basically told me, Do whatever.

...DO WHATEVER.



thank

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pink
Thursday. 3.14.13 1:26 am
They supplied dull scalpels for us to perform the dissection of our rats' scrotums. "It's like cutting steak," my partner decided to tell me. He was right. I turned away and tried not to be too freaked out by the way he had to use the scalpel. "Maybe I shouldn't be a surgeon," he commented casually, still sawing through the rat's bits.

I didn't say anything, because he was then distracted by the eavesdropping group behind us. But he should definitely try to be a surgeon. Even if, a few minutes later, he accidentally cut off our rat's penis with a pair of straight surgical scissors.

Small details. Literally. "I think that's it, but I'm not a rat dick specialist," he told the other group, when they ventured to ask. Rat penes aren't typically exposed--they retract into the rat when not...in use. But the scrotum--man, a rat scrotum is enormous. And the uterus really freaks me out, too.

"I'd be worried if you were," I told him, after a moment of appreciation for the words that had just come out of his mouth. Rat dick specialist. I hope that exists. Beautiful band name.

It was a short lab, because the film we were instructed to watch is sort of like a take-home quiz. It's a nice break from the regular quizzes--although I do very much like when my lab partner forgets there's a quiz, because apparently he whispers "shit" through the whole thing but doesn't even consider cheating (which is nice, since last semester some girl asked for an answer ON THE PRACTICAL (40% of our grade, wtf how dare you), from me, and I said, "NOPE" in my normal voice, got up, and walked away from her in an otherwise silent room), which makes me laugh because it's so sad, and also a perfect sentiment, when asked to freaking draw and diagram a heart from memory.

Anyway, the film wasn't bad. I watched it in the tub. It indeed showed an actual birth. It did not make me rethink my stance on having children (though I suppose it didn't really reinforce it, either??). I was really surprised at how tiny the baby was, and how watching the birth didn't repulse me.

...

...

...But um my lab partner and I high-fived once we'd finished cleaning up or station, then turned and walked out together like badasses. And it was cool. Because the train didn't stop there NOPE. I mentioned that I hadn't really had any actual biology classes, before college (because our biology teacher left the room so much, in ninth grade, that we actually learned NOTHING except what it feels like to get yelled at all the time), and he spent the elevator ride down, trying to sort that out with himself and learning that not having IB at his school probably saved him. Walking through the lobby, I told him that I did, at least, learn to spell baccalaureate, and he tried to spell it. And almost succeeded. Outside, we had to go in opposite directions, but neither of us would shut up, so we both walked backwards until we were both satisfied with the conversation.

And then I smiled the whole way home because I ADORE SCIENCE MAJORS. Every business/accounting/economics major I've ever met has treated me badly, every psych major I've ever met has been somehow unattainable, romantically...? And I always end up developing the crushes on the science majors. And look back a ways--midday is doing physics (right? still? yes?), Logan (my first (and, so far, last) semi-long-term boyfriend) was a biochemistry major working towards a medical degree--not to mention all the dates in college that somehow KEEP ENDING UP BIOLOGY MAJORS (I feel like I've converted some of them), and, of course, a monster in the recesses of my mind, who is most certainly destined for a medical career.

And now this fantastic specimen comes along and makes me blush so hard that my goggles fog up.

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sincerely
Sunday. 3.10.13 3:24 am

I got to see two of my favorite men, tonight, and it was awesome. On my drive back down to college, my friend who just transferred A THOUSAND MILES AWAY called and asked what I was doing and where I was, because HE WAS VISITING OUR CAMPUS AAAHHH. I drove 100 miles per hour (my car likes that, anyway, I think) the whole rest of the way down, showered at the speed of light, and was over there in no time. I was so glad to see them both. Just...ahhh. After spending the whole week holed up at my parents' houses, waiting for plans that never came through, it was such a relief to be around people who just kind of...see me. You probably know what sort of feeling I'm talking about. Like taking one big, deep breath and exhaling right away.

I'm still not sure about one of them--whether we've been dating or not (while driving, tonight, I realized this, and told myself, "YOU REALLY NEED TO ASK ABOUT THAT, HOLY COW"). We've been out twice, alone, and he's taken care of the costs twice. But then, like I said in my 100 fact challenge, lots of friends just randomly do that for me. I've learned to do the same.

Loving my friends came up like that vomit you thought was just an innocent burp. I'm constantly surprised, after coming home on nights like tonight and thinking to myself, "I really do love these people."

I miss my talks with the monster. People bring him up, and I feel myself start to shut down, emotionally, because maybe I'm not ready to deal with all of it. Or maybe I am dealing with it, but I just want to keep it to myself. Being private with these things isn't bad, I don't think. My best friend knows all about the initial shock, and sadness, and utter fury (because that man is beyond thoughtless and full of himself, sometimes) that came with...well, January as a whole. And that's as much as I really want to flesh these things out with anyone, you know? But I miss talking to him. As difficult as it was, sometimes...there were moments that made it worth all the trouble. Just after sunrise, one morning, when he fell asleep on my legs while I talked about how bizarre the rapid changes in my family life were--I think about that, when I think about what I miss. That's what I miss. Just being comfortable and accepted. Being young with him. I wish I could have that back. It's something I don't have with my other friends, probably due to the changes I've been through, in the past couple of years.

These things take time to repair.

This week:



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