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Sunday. 5.20.12 1:24 pm

My perfectly healthy, nine-year-old dog died, while I was in Florida volunteering. I felt her go when I was standing beside the 19A soccer field, and wasn't surprised, later, when my dad texted, telling me to call my mum. I got home that night and she tried to let me get settled in and go to the bathroom first, like any mother should. I turned around and asked her what was wrong.

"Nothing...everything's fine."

"Then where's Sophie, Mum."

And then she burst into tears and told me she was sorry, that she had to put her down. The suspected cause was rat poison. Her blood wouldn't coagulate enough to give her spleen surgery, and so they just gave her the injection. She would have died soon, anyway, but not soon enough, and in a lot of pain.

I've been crying since I found out, last night. I've been this upset only one other time in my life, and I had to surround myself with friends just to get myself to eat, for weeks after the fact.

Mum can have some, but I want most of her ashes. I know it's kind of weird. But she was my Adventure Dog. She always came with me.

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troutskieserniffle caaaroooooo
Tuesday. 5.8.12 8:22 am

I left the house at 11am yesterday and haven't spent more than ten minutes sitting around at home since then.

IT IS EIGHT TWENTY IN THE MORNING AND I AM JUST GETTING SETTLED IN FOR BED HOW DID THIS HAPPEN. First it was Oh Come With Me to the Vet so You Can Help Me Decide on a Method to Remove [Dog's] Eye (sounds cool, sold), then it was Ooh New Resale Shop We Should Go (yeah sure I like shopping occasionally), then it was ARE YOU COMING TO ULTIMATE? (what ultimate) THE ONE TODAY (what are y--ohhh crap maybe (can I bring a friend? ...okay then I'll come)), then it was Hey Let's Get Taco Bell (not hungry, but I'll watch you eat), then it was HEY LET'S GET CICI'S (hell yeah pizza desserts), then COME BOWLING WITH US (I like bowling), then HUNGRY. STARVING. LET'S GO TO WAFFLE HOUSE (yeah sure I could eat again).

I thought it was over when we left Waffle House. Nooo. My friend ended up staying in the guest room (Neb; he's sleeping soundly upstairs as I type this (sucker)), which I neatened up for him, along with the bathroom.

So I come downstairs to check my computer and wobble off into a lazy sleep.

Oh look chat messages.



I Should Check on Mum While I'm Out, [Dog] Has Surgery Today (I DON'T CARE JUST DO WHAT YOU WANT fine I'm going to visit Mum).

HEY [Unicornasaurus], WHY DON'T YOU COME WITH ME FOR ADDED SUPPORT (O_O what is sleep).

LET'S GO HOME SELF (shnorgfffffffffffffffferrrrrrrrrrnnnn...?).


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the date that was a yellow house
Sunday. 4.29.12 4:37 am

A truly lengthy entry.

I cross the street and see Austin sitting there, on the fountain, his head turning nervously, watching for me in the opposite direction. I stand in front of him, making no introduction, just expecting him to react to my presence in the socially-acceptable way and make the first move on greeting. Greeting people is ambiguous, and I like it when they greet me first.

He goes for a hug; I apparently go for a sideways headbutt, which is unicorn for Hello (a frontal headbutt is unicorn for Lobotomy). He doesn't comment on it much, and we move to get smoothies.

We don't get far before I see a familiar figure strolling down the sidewalk. Alarms in my brain are going off, which means that there is absolutely, one hundred percent, NO way to make it out of this encounter without someone feeling weird. He says hi first, and I oblige him with a greeting, half-trying to squirm away without anything else. My mind is flashing back to ant bites and a dark parking lot. The man beside me, being the adult in all of this, moves to introduce himself. I realize that I could be perceived as rude, but frankly I'm dealing with a lot of weird emotions and reactions to the number of coincidences since meeting Austin, and it's all sort of overwhelming, when I'm trying to organize occurrences into categories like "Weird Coincidences" and "People I Went To High School With That He's Already Met" (both high numbers, considering).

I'm mildly uncomfortable and make a strong move to keep walking without talking about how I've been. I don't owe the person in front of me any sort of conversation, although we are what I would call "aquaintances with strongly mutual friends." It didn't make sense to keep talking, anyway. I couldn't see the point. He lets me go without any pleasantries, also feeling my poignant--and mostly accidental--rejection.

"...Who was that?" Austin asks, laughing a little at my obvious discontent, as we walk away.


"So he was like..."


We agree to not discuss that anymore ever. Ever.

He proceeds to buy me a smoothie and somehow figures out the most comforting thing to say to a woman who is generally not okay with people buying her things, and says this while pulling out his money. I stand there like a moron. I ask a stupid question.

I blush at my stupid question and the fact that I am generally a moron.

We grab straws and make a dash for the door. He asks if I mind a walk, and I wonder what I'm there for otherwise if I'm not there for a walk. Austin is terrible at crossing the streets and will probably die crossing a street. He deems himself too comfortable with crossing the streets and I agree wholeheartedly.

He proceeds to throw in one of my favorite words--belligerent--for absolutely free.

We get to a parking lot and he takes a rolled-up, beaten to death, blue-striped towel off the hood of his car. He remarks on his car lightly, but I'm too bewildered by this seemingly graceful and automatic action to concentrate on that.

"How did you..."

"It's called 'thinking ahead.'"

Oh, I see, except this is exactly the type of stuff I pull when someone gives me the reins in planning an excellent date, so I'm more so afraid that I'm perpetuating my tendency to date myself in male form.

I'm stunned and wooed and I let him lead me in a direction that feels vaguely west.

It is vaguely west. We arrive at the park and proceed to people watch and talk for a couple of hours. I notice that I can't count on one hand the number of good, solid quips he's made. Everything is easy. He walks me back to my residence hall and schedules a second date with me, rather than kissing me.

I walk inside and immediately pull out my phone to text inhuman.

His respect is nothing less than astounding to me; I get the feeling that this is how I should always expect and want to be treated, but it isn't something I'm accustomed to, yet. With time.

Move out is Monday. It's very odd to know that I'll never be in this room again. Everything I know is ending, and new things are taking its place.

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fate intervenes in the form of a Hummer limo, gut feeling is okay with it
Wednesday. 4.25.12 1:12 am
"Wait," I told inhuman, chuckling at the frightened and bewildered man in front of us, "Wait, no, look at his eyebrows. ...No, look at his eyebrows. He's not lying."

I don't know if any of you know this, but inhuman is actually a master interrogator. First, she tells someone to lie to her--she insists they lie on purpose so she isn't upset by the answer--then she demands they tell the truth. Then, she goes between these two options until the person snaps like a twig. The guy standing at the merchant's table ignored my furious motioning, behind inhuman, and told her the truth. Naturally, due to her fool-proof interrogative technique, she didn't believe him. He fearfully and innocently raised his eyebrows, insisting that the decorative stone was, actually, only $25 (which is reasonable, for something like that, especially in the touristy part of town).

Enter ultra-observant Unicornasaurus, pointing out his eyebrow movement. It's a very innocent and surprised tell, one that kind-natured people develop (whereas less kind people will develop a small, brief squint, when accused of lying (when they aren't lying, that is)). He asked about my very obvious psychology major, and was knowledgeable on it enough that I asked what his was.

"Psychology." He clarified, "Neuroscience."

All the sudden I wasn't in such a hurry to get on with my night. But, we did carry on, and that was that, so to speak.

Except, that wasn't that. We were in the situation where we had to pass back and forth several times, to the point where I was practically dying of embarrassment. We tried to take the outside route past, but, OF COURSE, A GIANT STRETCH HUMMER BLASTING MUSIC PASSED AT A SLOW CRAWL, just as I tried to sneak past the window. He turned around; my face dropped.

This is my luck.

Except surprise! It is my luck! The second time we tried the outside route, he was waiting, sitting on the window sill. He swung his legs over and looked me right in the eye; "Would you like to get coffee sometime?"


inhuman muttered, "And that's my cue to leave," and I was amused for a second before the shock set in, and then I was giving him my number and shaking his hand (firm, three pump; vaguely impressive).

We have a date, Friday. I have no idea what to expect. I hate coffee dates. But, he's caught my interest.

My birthday weekend was mega-cool. My birthday was also mega-cool. I'll talk about it next time, because I already feel like I've said a lot, this time. middaymoon is probably like, SHUT UP ABOUT THIS ALREADY, but excuse me I don't get asked out on dates I want to go on that often (maybe once a year, I get a positive gut feeling...?), so nyah nyah nyah. Nyahnyahnyahnyahnyah.


"What did my mom buy?" she asked, approaching the table.

"A rock."

inhuman looked extremely concerned, and I followed, chuckling.


He goes into work/an exam exactly when I get out of work/an exam. ON SEVERAL DIFFERENT DAYS.


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