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jmulbed wekened
Monday. 9.26.11 9:00 pm

The officer lets us out of his car, hands me the form, and speeds out of the parking lot to his next duty. It's five-thirty on Sunday morning, and I am wrapped in a fleece blanket with three tigers printed on it, to keep me somewhat warm. We--inhuman, her roommate, and I--shuffle into the Waffle House and sit down. My eyes beg the waitress to welcome us in, despite the fact that we don't have money to buy any food, and that we just climbed out of the back of a cop car.




At noon on Friday, I texted Lee and told him it turned out I wasn't leaving at two, after all, but rather four. He asked if I wanted to get lunch, then, even though he'd already eaten, and I asked if we could instead hit the beach. You guys don't know about Lee--hell, I don't know that I know about him, yet, really. And yet here we were, around three in the afternoon, strolling along the beach like it was any other Friday afternoon. I think we're casually dating, which is something I do well. So far it's good.

I dropped him off and headed to inhuman's dorm, just after it started to rain at the beach.

Flash two hours ahead: I'm headed to dinner with inhuman and people I barely know. I'm happy to be there, too; it's been a good day, despite the fact that I don't have money to spend (and yet keep spending it). We take several hours, just walking around town in a group of people that I, for the most part, very much like. I occasionally wish I lived there--that making friends was so easy in my dorm back home. It seems effortless, with them. We're in the hall, even hours after that, talking to more people. I like all of them immediately.

The next morning, the three of us take showers and get to my car later than scheduled. We get gas, we drive, we eat at CiCi's and then head to park for the concert. Half an hour later, we're listening to The Postelles. Two hours later, inhuman and I are on a Ferris wheel with new t-shirts from the merch table. And then I'm screaming as Dan and Pat walk on stage and throw down. And then I'm sitting on tree roots with my newly reacquired backpack, after feeling especially sick and leaving my place in the crowd of hundreds. It was then that I met someone I can only refer to as Drunk Kevin from Chattanooga.

"Text me. No, I can't hear you, TEXT ME. TEXT. ME. TEXT ME."

He hung up, then looked up at me and smiled charmingly. "Sorry about that," he said. I laughed and told him it was okay, and he took that as a welcoming gesture and set his bag down beside me.

"Is this okay?"

"Yeah--sure." I didn't care. He, on unsure footing, held his beer so it wouldn't spill on me and took a seat next to me. The light hit his face and I realized that he was pretty attractive.

He asked some pretty basic and obvious questions--if I was here alone (no), where my friends were (watching the concert), why I wasn't watching the concert (I felt sick), and which bands I liked.

We got to talking about The Black Keys, because he was also there for them specifically. "I loooved the fact that they opened with Thickfreakness," I told him with every ounce of seriousness and adoration for the band.

"...Who are you?" he asked. "I've never met a girl who knows the songs by name, before."

I told him, "I'm just a girl sitting on a tree."

An hour later, we're shout-singing along to Viva La Vida and he's putting his neon halo on my head, carefully pushing my bangs to the side. In his complete drunkenness, he says, "You're so...cool."

I laugh and tell him he's funny, "...but you have a really nice smile." He puts his jacket on me, and I leave a note in his backpack letting him know who has it, in case he forgets to take it back and doesn't remember what he did when he wakes up.

I usually like drunk people, as long as I don't have to deal with them in their drunken states more than once in a while (it gets old quickly). I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the fact that adults are so hardened and trained against being...sweet and unusual. And then they get drinks in them and they're back to a childlike lack of inhibition. I instructed him to turn around, threw the note in his backpack, and secured everything again. I could have stolen his wallet and he would have been none the wiser.

Drunk Kevin is 23 years old. He asks what's in my Dasani bottle, and I tell him it's water. He gives me his best grin and says, "Water. What is it really, though."

After a few minutes of back and forth, I unscrew the cap and hold it to his nose.

"...So it is."

And then somehow he's helping me into his jacket, and I'm staring stupidly as he brings the back of my hand up to his lips.

What do you even do, under those circumstances?

I chose to yank him back to my side and tell him to behave. He laughed and stayed put for a while, which is when I checked my phone. inhuman had texted twice, by then, so I cussed and looked at him, wild-eyed. "I have to go," I said. "We have to go. Come with me. Come on, come, let's go, now."

I grab his hand (which was far warmer than mine), and lead him through the crowd to the tree I was sitting under, forty minutes prior. After some short introductions ("inhuman, this is my new friend Kevin. Kevin, this is inhuman. Kevin has drunken amnesia. Which reminds me. What's my name?"), inhuman, her roommate, and I part with the darling Drunk Kevin from Chattanooga, walk back to the car and drive to Denny's for a late-night meal.

Half an hour later, my eyes are crossing from fatigue and I sip at the coffee the manager at Denny's gave me for free with some measure of desperation. inhuman wakes up and offers to drive for a while so I can sleep.

An hour later, she's waking me up (I'm only half-asleep, drifting in and out of that weird state we don't recognize, once we're fully awake) and the windshield is covered with fog. I calmly switch on the windshield defroster, set it on high, and tell her how to use the wipers. Once the glass is clear, again, I turned and tried to get some real sleep.

My body resigns to the fatigue.

Two thuds and I don't wake up, but definitely notice the feeling that the car has taken on a big pothole.

inhuman has her panic voice on, which is the only reason I wake up again. "We hit a deer," she says.

I tell her to slow down, pull over, put her flashers on, put the car in park, and turn it off. After inspecting the side of the car (brutally damaged), I pop back in and tell her to take my seat, that I'm going to get us further off the road. Driving my car is painful--my car seems to react like I would to rolling over nails. I get us over a little and tell her that I was driving--I hit the deer. She helps me get in touch with the authorities and we somehow get the car onto a tow truck.

We'd called a few friends looking for a ride, and my very good friend agreed to. We had some success before we thought to call him (we weren't thinking well at all, honestly), in the form of my ex-boyfriend. We have some weird history, but he seemed honestly concerned about us. (I still care about him, too. It's been a long time, now, since we were together. Everything kind of faded, and now I'm fond of him in the way you're fond of someone with whom you really shared your affections.) He was unsure about his car, though, so we told him it was okay, that we could get someone else.

I thought to grab everything and get it together before the truck pulled up, so we shuffle into the police car together and he takes us to Waffle House. We're all too tired and too shocked to talk.

After half an hour inside the Waffle House, my friend pulls up. "Are you okay?" he asks me. I don't even recognize the question, it feels so foreign and unusual. Am I? I don't consider my answer and say, "Yeah, just tired. Let's go."

We go. He drives us home, and bed welcomes us with open arms.

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honestly?
Wednesday. 9.21.11 6:43 pm
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I don't like her, okay? bye
Friday. 9.16.11 2:02 pm
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lists!
Saturday. 9.3.11 8:19 pm
Things I don't like a lot:

1) Homework I understand perfectly but hate having to do just as much (and mostly for that reason, really).

Random flirtations:

1) I'm pretty sure I was asked for my hand in marriage, the other day. I don't even know what else to say about that.

2) Today, a guy in a pickup truck held a sign up in his window. It said:
"HOW IS MY DRIVING?
###-###-####"
--HOW CUTE. I wish I'd had a pen. I would have called him, DEFINITELY. Or at least sent a text. Just because I would have the balls to do the same thing, were the guy cute enough.

Near death experiences in the past week and a half:

1) A tree branch tried to kill me on my way to class. Luckily, I hadn't brought an umbrella (and was, yes, completely soaked from the torrential DOWNPOUR Irene brought), so I saw it coming down just in time to stop short and jump out of the way.

2) A ladder decided to take a shot at being a car. As in, it was in my lane in the middle of the super high bridge. I swerved out of the way maybe three seconds before I--going sixty miles per hour--would have hit it.

3) I was going to get my mail and hit the elevator button, but then decided that I wanted to be healthy and take the stairs. Just as I got to the front door of my dorm, the fire alarm started up. Apparently, that elevator I was going to take had just CAUGHT ON FIRE.

Beings I miss:

1) inhuman. She and I got super close, this past summer, and I really wish I could see her more than I'll be able to, this year. She's been there for me on a constant basis, which is something someone like me really needs.

2) My dog. I always go back to this January and February, in my mind, when I really want to think of a comfortable time in my life. I would wake up, look down, and there would be my wonderful, faithful pup, Sophie, snuggled up into my stomach.

3) God. We're on weird terms, right now. No lecture is going to help, either--I know that much. Faith isn't faith unless you come and stay, on your own terms. Just like any other relationship.

4) Someone I really shouldn't miss, really. A bad idea in the making.

Things I love:

1) The way the wind blows through my car windows as I'm driving around certain parts of the city is exactly that "breath of fresh air" everyone always talks about.

2) My dorm room feels legitimately like home. I think it's because I decorated it so that I belong. My Ganesha tapestry is so comforting, and my purple satin sheets are always perfectly warm and smooth. A lot of it is pink, but maybe it keeps me perky and feminine, because I haven't had a bad day, yet.

3) Knowing where I'm going when I'm driving around my new city of residence. I may not know a lick about finding a bank in walking distance, but I know how to get to all the places I need, without a GPS.

4) Having something to look forward to is my favourite form of motivation. I started the school year looking forward to a concert with friends from my hometown, which was great for me while I was adjusting to new people and needed that hometown support. Now, I still have the concert coming up, but I'm also looking forward to playing my first real match with the team, this November, not to mention all the experiences I'll come across in the meantime! c:

5) Good music is worth a lot, in my book. It's awesome when I'm driving down to the beach and a tropical pop song comes on...nothing can get me down when the wind's a-blowin' and I'm jamming to some acoustic guitar/ukulele-heavy pop. Not even a ladder (but that's a different bridge).

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