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flowers come after the storm
Sunday. 3.17.13 3:14 pm
also some casual language??


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.

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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.



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.


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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.



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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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