I'm ba-aaack!

I'm back, baby! I can't believe that it's actually colder here than it was in Utah. That sucks. So I just want to go on record as saying that I LOVE flying! It is simply freaking amazing! When I was taking off, I tried to see if I could be scared about it, and I couldn't be. Actually I was scared for about a split second on the way back because we were completely surrounded by clouds so that all I could see was white everywhere and we hit quite a patch of turbulence. All of the sudden I remembered that thousands of pounds of metal and people where being held up by nothing more than wind resistance and speed. It passing quickly, though, cause I remembered, that if we crashed, oh well, not too much I could do about it. I'm very Zen sometimes. But anyway. On the way up there I was filled with awe about the fact that I was traveling a distance in a little over 2 hours that it used to take people months to travel. Isn't that fucking amazing? We live in glorious times, my friends.
As I approached Salt Lake, I was amazed not only by the mountains, but by how brown it is there. Here in Dallas, the view was mostly green with patches of brown, but it was the opposite there. And the brown was a different color brown than ours, it was more yellowy tan. While I was there, I got to visit Temple square (including the convention center, one of the visitor centers, and the church art museum), which was pretty cool, and we went to a corn maze, which was um. . .well, it was dark, cold, and muddy. But I tried to have fun, cause I was with my baby. I got to go to the Salt Lake Temple, home of the nest of Mormonosity, and that was pretty cool. I carved a pumpkin and made rice crispy treats with Ethan. That was fun, even though Ethan poured rice crispys all over the floor. Ethan, Becky, and I went bowling, which Ethan simply loves, so that was especially fun.
After the first couple of days, I was able to breathe again, for the most part, so then I kept forgetting and I would run up the stairs just like if I were here, and I would get all light headed and my legs would turn to rubber. I went on the internet, and found out the altitude of Bountiful is around 5200-5300 ft above sea level, which is about a mile. Denton airport is about 648 ft above sea level. That's quite a difference! Everything's uphill there, and not just little stumpy hills, big huge hills! It's wild!
Apparently I should go out of town more often, because on myspace, about seven guys wrote me this weekend, and many of them are actually older than 25! About three guys wanted to know what I was doing Friday night, so it's probably a good thing I had a good excuse ready for why I couldn't go out. :) I didn't meet any nice Mormon boys while I was there, sadly. Becky said the only single guy she knows is a guy I already know, so she didn't have anyone to set me up with. When I was looking for the altitude stats for Salt Lake, I found out that of people in Salt Lake ages 18-45, there's 102 men for every 100 women. I thought that sounded like pretty good odds, but apparently I was in the wrong neighborhood. Oh well.
So, I'm home, I'm alive, I'm good. Ethan was sad that I had to leave, but that's the way it goes. All together now: "Welcome back, Margie!"

stupid mountains

My head hurts. My throat hurts. I can barely breathe. I feel light headed and disoriented.

The altitude is KILL. ING. ME.

On the plus side, Dave says if I adjust while I'm here, going back to Texas will make my feel high.

Essay #2

Tomorrow morning I am getting on a plane and flying away from this place. Don't worry, I'll be back Monday. I'm spending the weekend with my best boy! YAY! I don't know if I'll have a chance to post while I'm in Mormon-land, I mean Utah, so hopefully my second essay from my grammar & comp class will tide you over till we meet again. It is a descriptive essay, and most of you will recognize the content, since it's about William (Hot Asian Guy). But remember, I went to the club that night to gather information to write this essay, so it's not my fault that I'm rehashing! My teacher practically gushed about it, writing such phrases as, "Fantastic x Infinity." (Yes, Josh, I know you can't multiply times infinity.) So, hopefully you'll like it too. For your reading pleasure:


Music Magic

The night air is brisk and heavy with the notion of rain as we hurry toward the club, ready for anything. The heavy pounding rhythm beckons to us, summoning us from the street. We join the short line just inside the door, and as I wait to pay the cover and receive admittance to the wonder that lies within, I survey my surroundings. Under foot, the carpet is crimson, complimenting the scarlet lamps and other red accents around the room. The rest of the colors are dark, eluding my eye. To the right is a wall, cutting me off from the dance floor, but I can see the bar past a short wall on the left. It’s a typical bar, covered by a smattering of empty or half empty glasses, with two attractive bartenders working steadily behind it. In front, people stand drinking or talking in various states of relaxation and drunkenness. I notice one in particular. He is lounging with his back to the bar, drink in hand, wearing black pants and a black pea coat. His short, black hair is gelled into a messy bedhead spike. He is wearing tiny round reflective sunglasses that just cover his eyes like silver dollars. His gaze is pointed in my direction, but the mercury pools hide his intentions. He could be looking at any number of things around me, and I realize with a jolt of surprise and pleasure that he may be looking at me. I pay the cover and a beautiful girl with jewels on her forehead places a paper bracelet on my wrist, signaling to everyone in the world that I can do what I want, when I want.

I stride up the curving walkway, eager to join the dance, but my friends need liquid courage to be able to celebrate. We go to the bar, and I drink a cranberry juice while they take their shots and their chasers. I wait impatiently, the music already causing my body to sway in time. Finally, finally, my friends breathe in the last of the amber bubbles, and we hurry to the floor, which is a big black space filled to the brim with noise and light, that swirls all around the bodies causing them to move and gyrate sensually. In the middle of the floor is a column from which grow wrought iron vines, twisting and turning up and along the ceiling like tree branches over our heads. These tendrils are covered with little white lights, which sparkle like fairies in the forest. All around are white and colored lights flashing and strobing in time to the music.

We find an empty spot and start to move. It takes a while to get into it, and finally my friends decide they need more libations. We go back to the bar. We pass him, the guy in the pea coat. We get our drinks, and we find an empty table where we sit and talk and laugh. All around us I see people in groups of two or three, drinking, laughing, and talking. I drink it in, along with my berry-red juice, sparkling with ice cubes that are still rough around the edges from their birth. The people all look so happy and relaxed. To my right a pretty girl flirts with a pretty boy, touching him, laughing, and tossing her hair, while her less attractive friends look uncomfortable and unhappy. I tell my friend and we smile about the girl’s oblivion to the sad plight of these ugly step-sisters. Right at that moment, while I am smiling my best smile, I notice the guy from the bar has moved around to a spot closer to where I am and seems to be looking at me again. He is holding a cigarette just like a man should, leaning casually with one elbow resting on the bar. The end of the cigarette glows orange in front of his fingers as the smoke drifts away toward the heavens. Again, we decide to dance.

We start toward the dance floor, and I suddenly realize that I have left my friends. I turn to find them and almost fall over the guy, who was walking right behind me. As a colony of butterflies fly in frenzied choreography around my stomach, I act like I don’t see him. I turn into a frightened doe and dart around him in pursuit of familiarity. I quickly find safety with my friends, and we go back to the dance floor, and this time the music is more motivational. As I start to dance, the white flashing lights blind me, stealing away my sight. I close my eyes and am carried away to a place where there is no me, only rhythm. I move and sway with the beat. My nostrils fill with the scent of sweat and smoke, but it doesn’t bother me, it’s all part of the music. This is no longer a dance club, it is a forest, full of magic and mystery. The fairies flit about overhead, drunken with our worship. I am jolted out of the music by my friend, who wants me to see that the guy, this Oberon, has taken off his pea coat and joined the dance. He now wears a black pinstripe shirt, and dances masterfully with a group of girls to my right. I tear my eyes off of him and concentrate on my own magic. Soon I realize he has moved around the circle and is dancing right next to me. I decide that I am Titania, I am Aphrodite. I pretend he doesn’t exist and that I am music and beauty. Soon he moves away.

My friends and I go outside for a respite, and the sky is shedding chilly tears. It refreshes us and clears our minds, freeing us from the shackles of the smoke and heat and soon we are ready to rejoin the revels. The music sweeps us back into its grasp, and we once again feel the movement and begin to make merry with the other worshippers of the night. My hair whips around my face, and my feet are free to move as they wish. Soon, Oberon is behind me again and is actually facing me as he dances. I fear him, but I decide to grab the moment and dare to look into his face and smile. I look back down and dance with all I am, but when I look back up the tide has carried him across the floor. I continue dancing, and soon he disappears. I realize he has left, and for me the magic is gone. The lights are just lights, the branches have been replaced by iron, and the music has lost its rhythm. I continue dancing until the end of the night, but it’s all for effect. The smoke has made my contacts fog up so that I am looking at the world through a white haze of clouds. When the music stops, the people tumble out of the forest that has transformed back into a normal building on a normal street, and my friends and I trudge tiredly across the sparkling wet pavement toward the car, tasting the cold air. I look back briefly and see Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustardseed scamper away, giggling happily in the night.

riding the bus

My recent trip down high school memory lane (see "Oh the things you see" Oct 13) has reminded me of another guy I had a memorable relationship with in tenth grade, specifically, my bus driver. When I started riding the bus, I would sit wherever I could. Usually, wanting to sit as far away from the other kids as possible, I would end up sitting right behind the bus driver. He was a cute college student with dark blonde hair and blue eyes. At least I think they were blue. You have to remember, this was fifteen years ago. Before too long, he and I started talking. We would talk about all kinds of things; religion, books, people, I don't remember what all. The way the route was set up, I was the last one off the bus, and it was about a two hour ride for me (It didn't start out that way, I don't know if it was changed to that by coincidence or design). Soon, if I couldn't sit right behind him, I would move there when everyone else got off. We talked and talked. We had really good, long conversations. Now it never occurred to me that cute guy+great conversations=potential romance. I was kind of a late bloomer, and even though I had had crushes on guys, I didn't really know where crushes went when they progressed. Also, I was very out of touch with my feelings, and it was only later that I started to identify and catalogue many of them. Like, after I started getting action. "Oh, that feeling means I'm horny! Hey, I really wanted that guy in high school! Who knew?" Yeah, I was dumb. Plus, to me, the bus driver was an "Adult," even though he might have been as young as 18 for all I know. Just like missionaries and cute teachers, he was off limits, because he was grown up and I wasn't. And why would an Adult want a fifteen year old? It never occurred to me that he wasn't actually that much older than me.
One day we were driving along a narrow gravel road, and a truck was driving the other way, going really fast. When the truck passed us, the driver didn't get far enough over and his trailer hit the driver side mirror on the bus, spraying me with shards of glass and pieces of the metal frame that flew in through the open window. The bus driver (I wish I could remember his name!) stopped the bus, asked if everyone was ok, then ran off the bus and yelled the crap out of that other driver. Then he came back, came and kneeled (!) in front of me and that nasty bus floor, took my face in his hands and gently turned my face to each side as he checked me for injuries, then checked my hands and arms. As he did this, he asked, "Are you ok?" Being struck dumb temporarily, I just nodded yes. "Did you get cut?" he asked. "no," I mumbled. I could barely breathe at this point, and was very star-struck by him at that moment. "Man, what a jerk!" he exclaimed, "You could have been really hurt!" He was so mad, and so worried, I was really surprised by the intensity of his reaction. I thought it was sweet that he was such a good bus driver to show such concern for one of us students. I retrospect, I believe that if I had been a little less naive, and a little more forward, I think I coulda bagged me a college man that year. Oh well. It's probably all for the best. I'd hate for the poor guy to have gotten himself arrested or something. Why didn't I see that there were guys that thought I was interesting and treated me well instead of pining away for dorks in my class that didn't even know I existed? *sigh* That's the way it goes I guess. The orchestra director also liked me, I think, but that's a tale for another time. :)

day after day-forever more!

I've been thinking again. I know, I know, that always gets me in trouble, but I can't seem to help it. I was thinking about marriage. What a surprise, Margie, YOU, thinking about marriage! No, it's true! But seriously, folks, I want to get married for some obvious reasons. The most important one is sex. But I was thinking past that, and I realized, I can't imagine living with someone for the rest of my life. Every living arrangement I've ever had has been temporary. When I was a kid, I knew that I wouldn't live with my parents forever. (ha. the irony.) And of course, when I had roommates, I knew for DAMN sure that was temporary. Even Ethan, I knew from the start that he would grow up and leave. Of course, he ending up leaving sooner that a parent usually expects-you know, I was figuring about 18 years rather than 8, but it's all good. So today I was watching King of Queens and it suddenly struck me that if I married someone, I would have to live with that person everyday, for the rest of my life. And not just that-Mormons marry "for time and all eternity." Eternity is a really fucking long time, ya know? That's just really a lot for me to take in. I can't imagine wanting to live with someone that long. I mean, there's people I can see staying in contact with for that long, but sharing a bed, eating meals together, spending every evening together, etc. That seems weird to me. I really can't envision myself living that kind of lifestyle. I mean, I don't even want a tattoo cause it's too much commitment and it's not gonna tell the same jokes over and over again for 40-50 years. The idea of buying a house is abhorant to me, cause it's all permanent, I mean, what if I decide I want to move? You know, the idea of marrying an airline pilot or career military man is sounding better and better, cause they go away a lot. :) Maybe the reason I'm always attracted to men I can't have is because I'm secretly sabotaging myself to avoid that very life that I thought I want so much. Maybe deep down I'm a free love, no strings attached kind of girl that somehow got trapped in a puritanical Mormon life. Eh, it's not that deep down. When I was sexually active, I had NO problem with no strings attached sex. It was rather my favorite kind, really. Because when you get attached to a guy, he always ends up disappointing you or dumping you. Uh-oh. I think I just spotted emotional baggage. Oh dear. I think I may be broken. But then again, when I was dating Sanjay, I couldn't imagine not seeing him or at least talking to him everyday, so maybe I just have to get to the point where I feel that way about somebody again. Eh. No matter. Not like anyone's offered me a ring or anything.

tales from the past

We went back to the club. William (that is what I've named Hot Asian Guy in my head) was there. Carol and I went to the bar and when I looked at her to ask her what she was getting I noticed he was right next to her. He was looking at me. I saw him. I saw him see me. Then he turned and walked away. And he left. Right then. Apparently, he didn't want any more of my nonsense. I don't think our relationship is going so well.

But this isn't really want I wanted to talk about. I've been thinking again, ya know, like ya do, and I was thinking of a girl I used to know named Sarah. Sarah came into my life in 1995. She was home from BYU for the summer. She's a red-head covered in freckles. We hit it off right away, I must have a thing for red-heads. ;) You know, I almost always have just one red-headed friend. Weird. Anyhoo. Sarah was one of those people that's always in a good mood and looking on the bright side. We had tons of fun together, cause everything was fun to her. One day at church a card fell out of her scriptures. On the back was written, "I like who I am when I'm with you." I asked about it, and she said that was her favorite quote. I realized that's why I liked her. I liked who I was when I was with her. I became happy and positive around her. I wanted to live up to her. I've always been vile and mean. I cut people down. I spew venomous bile on the world. I'm the person people like to be around because I'm including them in my hating OTHER people. I was especially bad before I had Ethan, but even after, I'm not that great. But when I had that realization, I also realized that I didn't want to be the hateful, mean person anymore. I wanted to be the person that people liked to be around because they like who they are when they're with me. I worked on that for a while, and then my life fell apart and I kinda got tangled up in all my mess. But I've been thinking about it again. But the problem is, every once in a while, I try being the nice person. And nobody likes nice Margie. Nice Margie is boring. People only seem to want to talk to me when I'm being mean sarcastic Margie. Maybe I need to find a way to be mean and sarcastic while not actually causing anyone harm. I have no fucking idea how one would go about doing that. I wonder if it's even possible to actually change your basic personality that drastically without a brain wipe. And is it even possible? I think it very well might be. I dunno. I'll have to mull some more.

My job, or Why I might stab my boss someday when I go crazy

So, it's Wednesday, the last day of the work week for me. I know, I know, it's a hard life, I have no idea how I pull through sometimes. Now at work, there's a system. Usually I work the plaster bench and the wax bench, which are in one room. Rene works the metal bench and the porcelain room, which are two other rooms, and Mario is almost never in the lab, and when he is, he's almost exclusively in the office. It's a good set up for me. It basically means I get to work by myself all day, everyday, which I am totally cool with. But Rene is trying to make Mario quit by reducing his hours, so he's trying to get lots of extra work done so that Mario never has anything to do. So this week, he took over the plaster bench for the most part. Which meant that I was stuck in a room with Rene for 8 hours a day Monday and Tuesday. It would have been Wednesday also, but he needed to do some other things and I got to go back to the plaster bench for a while. But here's the problem. He's annoying and he feels superior to everyone. Normally, he doesn't bother me too much, cause I only talk to him for a few minutes at a time. I got so sick of listening to him lecture on and on about any insignificant thing that came into his head this week. And if I hear him tell me while a songs on the radio that he's, "heard them perform it live," one more time, I think I might throw something at him. Today he added to the rendition of his concert travels interesting facts about some of the bands. Yay. Also, he has a bad habit of coming into the lab and rearranging everything. He'll pick things up and carry them off, he'll leave drawers standing wide open, he'll leave stuff everywhere. And he's always taking anything he needs off of MY wax bench. Like, I'll need my super glue. It isn't in the same spot that I ALWAYS keep it in. I look around. He's taken it to the other bench to use and left it sitting 8 inches from THE BOTTLE OF SUPER GLUE THAT WAS ALREADY ON THAT BENCH. grrr. He does stuff like that constantly. Plus, there's a system we use on the plaster bench. We've done it, for the most part, the same way since I started. So he works it for two days, and then today when I go back on it, he wants me to change everything up to the way he does it. Cause "you can get a lot more done that way." Of course, there's only 10 cases on the plaster bench, which I could get finished in 4 hours my way, but sure, let's muck up the system for no reason. For some reason he felt the need to micromanage me today. When I was waxing he kept coming in and telling me to do things certain ways, despite the fact that I've been waxing for over two years now. He pulled me off the wax bench to do the invoicing. He would bring me the cases to be invoiced, give me vague instructions, then go work on the metal bench. He would then wait long enough for me to practically be finished and then yell further (usually unnecessary) instructions from his bench into the office, which is down the hall. Now, I think it's very rude to yell things between rooms. Probably because that is my parents' normal mode of conversation. I feel like, if you have something to say to me, you should get off your ass and come to where I am. When someone else yells at me from another room, it automatically makes me have a little brain seizure and my eyebrows go up. And if the eyebrows go up, it's just a few short steps till I start snapping at people. And nobody wants that. But Rene did it repeatedly today. Apparently, he couldn't see my eyebrows from the other room. And Rene LOVES disasters. It's an unnatural love. Seriously. He loves war, tornadoes, hurricanes, any disaster, the bigger the better. He loves the destruction. He was upset that he didn't know Katrina was going to be so devastating, cause if he knew, he "would have TAPED it." I'm not joking. He watched the Katrina fallout constantly for over a week, giggling gleefully at the footage. He was terribly upset that Rita missed. And now that the new hurricane might hit Florida, he's ecstatic. He comes in every hour or two with updates in it's progress, as if I shared in his morbid fascination. He's really hoping this one hits Louisiana, too. He's hoping that New Orleans will be totally destroyed. Not because it's a seat of evil or anything like that. Just because it would be funny and fun for him to watch. It's perverse. So, in conclusion, Rene should stop bothering me and let me go back to working by myself. That would be super.

bad news strikes

At the end of the post I typed a mere 4 hours ago, I said something bad would happen to me soon. The irony. It seems to be striking not just me, but those I care about now. Jared just IM'd me. The crazy hispanic girl he complained about last time we went out is pregnant. And the girl he's apparently been in love with for the last 6 1/2 years just told him she loves him. Looks like I'm moving further and further out of the picture. It's like someone just pulled a scab off, and I'm hurting all over again. lol. At least I didn't get hit by a comet.

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful

Man, my head is spinning! You see, Sunday I had a weird experience. Jessie Iverson, who is a super fabuloso "middle aged" lady at my church, and I were talking on Sunday, and she just started going on and on about how beautiful I am. She even started detailing; my skin, my hair (which I told her was out of a bottle, and she said, "it's still beautiful and someday it'll be it's natural color and it'll be beautiful then too."), my eyes (can't argue about that one. I think my eyes are my best feature), my figure, etc. I told her she needs an eye exam and tried to drop it, but she just kept on! It was insanity. So I told her, "Oh, yeah, tell that to all the single guys who AREN'T asking me out!" She said, "OK, I will, the next single guy I meet, I'm gonna tell him about you!" Yikes. This other girl that was nearby said, "Yeah, my sister has the same problem. She's so pretty guys are afraid to approach her." That, of course, implies that that is my problem. Hello ego boost.
Then, late last night, I signed up for My Space. Check me out: http://www.myspace.com/margie_vi
Then today when I came home for lunch, there were messages from 3 guys (and only one of them was Cainnum!), one was a Nigerian man telling me I'm "too beatiful, reely. too cute." It goes on in that vein, and another from a cute 22 year old, wanting to chat with an older woman. Again with the kids. And Cainnum went on about how beautiful I am, too! Too sweet! I also got a friend invite from a cute firefighter who's married, but apparently "loves women. who know what might happen." Ick.

Craziness. The world is topsy turvey. I know I shouldn't validate myself through others, but I must say, I'm feeling pretty good about me right now. Seems like it's about time for me to get fired or hit by a comet or something. :)

I almost DIED! and What dreams may come

Today I went to the Single Adult Conference, which was kinda lame, but whatta ya gonna do, right? Well, they fed us all three meals, and knowing my allergy to soy, I was trying to be careful to only eat things that wouldn't have soy in them, causing me to pass up some really yummy looking bagels at breakfast. So at lunch, I had a sandwich, which I was pretty sure about, some Lay's, which don't use Soy oil for frying, and some carrots with ranch dip. No problemo. Except that soon after I finished eating, my throat started to constrict. The dip, dammit! I usually make my own, so I forgot that most store bought dressings and dips have soy. I wasn't worried at first, it's usually not so bad, but this dip must have been whipped soy with a dallop of soy thrown in, because it kept getting worse. Soon I was coughing little coughs as I couldn't get enough carbon dioxide out. I started asking around to see if anyone had any benedryl, which of course they didn't. There were supposed to be two classes after lunch which I had no interest in, followed by a two hour break then dinner, then a speech, then a dance. So I had been kicking around the idea of cutting out for the afternoon and coming back in time for dinner, and this seemed to work nicely into my plan. I'd just go home and take some benedryl, and that could be my excuse for leaving! yay! So I leave, but my breathing was getting worse, and soon I realized that I was driving in heavy traffic and had run into the curb three times and driven over the little bumpy things on the other side who knows how many times. I decided to stop at Racetrak. Although they sell every painkiller and energy booster known to mankind, they do not sell benedryl. So I went on. The Walmart parking lot was so full it was about to explode. I thought about it, and decided I didn't want to stop at every store on the way home, so I'd just go home and take some when I got there. It seemed to make sense at the time. By the time I got home, I was gasping in short little breaths, my lips were tingling from lack of oxygen, I had lost manually dexterity, and I was having mild tunnel vision. I went in and took two benedryl, and soon I could breathe again! Oh glorious air! We only miss you when you're gone! Mom put some of the benedryl in a little bottle to keep in my purse. Dad was mad at me, he said next time to call him and he'll bring me some. Then I slept for an hour and a half. And then, shakily, sleepily, and with a migraine, I went back to the conference. What a trooper. It was really scary, I've never had a reaction that bad before. I wonder if I need to go get an epi-pen from the doctor or something. When I first started having the reaction, I told the people at my table, and they asked if they could get me anything. I told them, no, no, it's never that bad. Just if I fall over, do a tracheotomy on me, ha ha ha. I didn't realize that I might actually need one sometime. That would suck. So, yeah. That was fun. Or something.

Now then. I had dated a few people before college and at the beginning of college, but of course everyone knows about my first boyfriend, Sanjay. Well, when Sanjay and I broke up, I started dreaming about him. Then when I would date other guys and we would break up, I would dream about Sanjay again. When David and I would break up, all those zillion times, I would always start dreaming about Sanjay again. Not anything dirty, just he would be there, sometimes coming to get me back, sometimes as my boyfriend, sometimes just in the background. Then after Ethan was born, I dated another guy and I thought I would dream about David. But guess what. I dreamed about Sanjay. So many years have past without anybody in my life, and completely Sanjay-dream free. Well, I haven't seen nor heard from Jared in a few weeks, and guess who has started making nightly appearances in my dreams. If you said Sanjay, you're WRONG. Jared has been. Almost every night. Usually just there somewhere, not even as a main part of the dream. The other night was the worst; in my dream I made a friend, and she had dated Jared. She wanted to go to this restraunt to eat, so we went, but it turned out she wanted to go there because she knew that Jared was always there at that time, and she made a huge scene. I had to talk her down, as it were. And Jared was there the whole time, studiously avoiding eye contact. Last night I didn't dream about him, so that was nice. Instead I dreamt that Spike (yes, from Buffy), Orlando Bloom (as a vampire), and I (I presume as a vampire, but it wasn't stated) were on a search for some item. We split into two groups, me and Spike, and Orlando. Spike and I found it, and we proceeded to have extremely graphic sex. Which was really really weird on several levels. One being, I usually don't have dreams like that. They are usually artistic or fade to black sort of affairs. Two being, why the hell would I choose Spike over Orlando! That's just crazy talk. Even in my sleep I was disturbed by how graphic it was. I remember being shocked on a non-dream level and thinking, "Well, that's not really necessary," while it was going on. Bizarro. Orlando was pretty upset and jealous, by the way. So anyway, back to the Jared situation. The thing is, I've realized that I tend to live in the past a lot, and so I've been making a really concerted effort to live in the now and in the future, and part of that involves letting go of things and people like Jared. So I've worked hard on noticing other guys, trying not to think about him, being open minded to the possibilities, that sort of thing. And then he starts popping up in my dreams. I feel like he's haunting me. And the funny thing is, I'm sure he hasn't thought about me in weeks, even in passing. How do you let go if your subconscious won't let you?

Oh the things you see

The other day I went to the store and on the way out I passed a whole passel of gentlemen with mental retardation. I didn't really pay attention to them, until at the end of the group I saw one that I recognized. *!* Why did I recognize this guy? Was it from my 6 months working at State School? Nnnnoooo. I remember. Flash back to the fall of 1989. *imagine Scooby Doo wavy line effects at this point of the narrative*

It was my first time away from Argyle. I was finally at Denton High, a much bigger and varied school. Most of the people from Argyle went to Marcus or Northwest, so I felt freed from my past. It was a good time, ripe with possibility. Second period came around, and the PE coach sat us all down and announced to us that everyday, we would be running a mile. If we couldn't run a mile or didn't want to run a mile everyday, we were to get up right now and go to the councilor's office and transfer to ROTC. ROTC would count for our PE credit and all we had to do was sit in a desk for an hour everyday. Well, that sounded like the life for me, so I got up and gat, along with several other girls. Within the hour I was sitting in ROTC, listening to Major Ivy's stupid jokes and doodling. Certainly the life, that.

There was just one problem. There was only one hall that I could take to get to ROTC, and for some reason the special ed students hung out in that hall during the time when I was going to class. EVERY DAY. One of the guys took a liking to me, and would talk to me everyday. Not wanting to be rude, I would say hello and make comments like, "That's great!" as I hurried past with my head down. Soon this fellow decided I was his girlfriend and would find me all over the school. At lunch, he would stand in the middle of the lunch room and scream, "There's my girlfriend," while pointing at me. When I was on the bus with the few Argylites who did come to Denton, he would stand across the street from the bus announcing that he was looking for his girlfriend until my busmates would gleefully point me out to him. Before school, when I was on the way to ROTC, any time he could, he would run up to me shouting everything that came into his head, but mostly his feelings for me. It was, to say the least, embarrassing. My friend Cathy told me I should complain, but I wouldn't, I didn't want to get the poor guy in trouble, so she told her dad, who said he'd take care of it! I was a little apprehensive, but also relieved. Well, a couple of days later, I'm sitting in Mrs Waldo's classroom before school (she let me and Cathy hang out there so we wouldn't have to hang out in the hall with the rabble), and Cathy comes in and tells me they want to see me in the office. What, why? What did I do? Nothing, of course. It turned out her dad had gone in to talk to the powers that be about this guy with Cathy, and they pulled the guy and his special ed teacher in and he kept saying, "THAT's not my girlfriend!" They finally asked Cathy if she knew where the girl in question was and told her to get me. It happened to be a Wednesday, the day I had to wear my ROTC uniform to school, so in I come, looking so prim and proper with my black pumps and nice blue a-line skirt and my baby blue shirt pressed just so with official looking patches and pins all over, and my hair all neatly put into a turned under french braid, and they tell me to tell what happened. I try to play it down, saying it wasn't really that big a deal, but Cathy keeps piping up with all the details. They tell the guy that I am not his girlfriend, and that if he can't interact normally with people he'd have to go back to State School. At this news, he grew quite agitated and started shaking his head violently and saying, "NO, NO, I don't want to go back, I'll be good!" I felt so bad for him. They told him this was his last chance, and that if he bothered me again, he'd have to go back. Then they dismissed me with an apology for my hardships. Forever after that, when I went up the hall to ROTC, he'd see me, and his eyes would light up, and he'd start to move toward me, and then he would remember and the light would die and he would snatch his hands against his chest and turn away from me and face the other way. I felt bad that I caused that light to die, but I also felt relieved that it wasn't being announced to the world that I was a retard's girlfriend. I mean, I already got enough ribbing cause the Argyle bus was a "short bus," I really didn't need a retard boyfriend on top of that.

And the day before that at ANOTHER store, I actually ran into Mrs Waldo! Man, you never know what you'll see at the store. Crazy.

the whole tooth

I got a 95 on my Government test! Yay! I'm still smart! Also, this cute guy that's in both my classes sat two seats down from me yesterday, and I was planning on striking up a conversation with him when we came back from break, but he left at the break. :(

My depression was getting worse and worse, but then when my family bought me a ticket to go see Ethan, my depression went away. Up and gone. Interesting. Maybe I'm having Post-parting depression. ha ha ha.

Today I was gripped by a major bout of "I miss Jared." Dammit. I thought I was getting better.

Dr Cudd, who was my doctor for the vast majority of my life, is the stake person over Single Adults, so of course I saw him at the Single Adults Leadership meeting on Sunday. When he found out I wasn't going to the Single Adult Conference this weekend because I can't afford it, he cornered me later and and told me that it's "really important to me that you go. If I pay for it, will you promise me you'll go?" He kept on till I promised I'd go to the Saturday stuff. So, long story short, I won't be at Josh's on Saturday.

I got my CD's from BMG today! Best thing ever! YAY! This is what I got: My Chemical Romance: Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge, Fall Out Boy: From Under the Cork Tree, Bowling For Soup: Drunk Enough to Dance, Bowling For Soup: A Hangover You Don't Deserve, The Killers: Hot Fuss, New Order: (The Best of) New Order. I also ordered Beck: Odelay, but that's on backorder. I'm so happy to finally have new music!

I've decided that I haven't gotten a good solid hate on in a long time, and I used to thrive on hate. It was like Red Bull for me. So I have a new hate now. I hate the lower first molar. I thinks it's all cool cause it's not like the other molars, It has 3 front cusps instead of two like the others! What's up with that? And it's all wedged between a bicuspid and a molar, so it always looks too big! Damn that molar. As of today, I am putting in place a "hate Moley the Molar" plan. When Moley comes in the room, I will fall silent, as if I were talking about it, no matter what I was actually talking about. After a few seconds, I will stand up abruptly and announce that I have to go. I will bid warm and fond farewells to everyone except Moley, whom I will avoid entirely. When I see Moley from a distance, I will stare at Moley for a few seconds and then turn to whomever I am with and tell a joke, so that everyone laughs. I will try to make the joke include something near where Moley is so that everyone will look in that direction while they are laughing. That's always hilarious. If I am forced to interact with Moley, I will be overly nice and ask polite questions, and then when Moley answers I will either cut it off or listen while rolling my eyes and making subtle faces. Alright. Plan Moley is now in effect. I will make that snotty lower first molar feel my wrath. Oh yes. It will pay.

Aging

I had a realization the other day. It was that I am now 31; I am no longer young. So I'm middle aged now, right? I really don't have a problem with the idea; being middle aged seems to represent something horrible to many people, but to me it's just the spot where you're not young and your not old, hence the term 'middle.' But when I mentioned this to my brother and mother, they erupted into spewing runnels of denial. I really have no idea why. They claim that I'm not middle aged, yet, that's more around 35, which I can see the argument for, but I'm not exactly sure I agree. Of course, I guess one could argue that you're only middle aged if you look it, for instance, if someone were to describe me as "that middle aged woman with brown hair," which I don't see happening anytime soon as strangers are STILL giving me advice as to what I should try to accomplish while I'm still in high school! Jeez. And the other day, we saw part of this show called something like, "The Great thing about being 30," or something like that, and it claimed that 30 is the new 20. So I guess I'm free to still act like I'm not middle aged whether I am or not. It also claimed that young guys love women in their thirties (see earlier post about all the young guys that are attracted to me these days) and that the pressures off to perform when you turn thirty (see much earlier post where I said the exact same thing.) Seems like this show was full of wisdom! I ain't worried about it. I'm still me, whether I'm young or middle aged or decrepit, so whatever, it's all good.

Bummed

Dave, Samantha and I went out dancing tonight. I was really excited about it, cause I love to go dancing, but I hardly ever get to go. So I walk in, and while I'm in line to get in, I notice a guy at the bar. An intriguing and interesting guy. He's Asian, maybe, or maybe half Asian. He has short black hear that was spiked into a bedhead sort of lazy spike. He was wearing a black pea coat and little tiny round silver reflective sunglasses.
I was immediately taken with him. He seemed to be looking at me, but with the sunglasses and the fact that I was in a line, who could tell? So I went about the business of clubbing, but I kept noticing this guy. At one point we all got drinks and were sitting at a table near the bar, when he went to the bar a got a drink. He then turned around and was lounging and drinking at the bar, and I again felt like he kept looking at me. But I don't know what to do! When I was hot, guys just came to me, I have no idea what signals them to come! So we go back out to dance, and soon I notice that hot Asian guy has taken off his pea coat and has a black button up shirt with white pinstripes, and he comes and starts dancing with this big group of girls next to us. Soon, he's moved around the circle so that he's right behind me! Dave kinda got my attention and pointed and I was like, "yeah, I know!" Then the guy left again. Later we went outside and Dave told me the guy had turned and was dancing so he was actually facing me! So then we went to dance again, and it happened again! He came and started dancing with the girls by us, worked his way to where he was right next to me and was turned so he was facing me. So I decided to take a chance, and I looked right at him and smiled a little smile. Then I resumed dancing. He immediately moved back across the dance floor and left soon there after. So that's fucking fabulous. I guess I misread him. But I totally covet him. I've always been attracted to cute Asian guys, and this one was even taller than me, and I was wearing two inch heels! Dammit. And then to top it all off, Samantha left with a random guy. Yeah. Not to be down on Samantha, but I think I'm prettier than her, and I know I'm more interesting than her. So it's real hard for me to not fall back into my negative thought patterns right now. REAL hard. I was already upset, but her leaving with him was salt in the wound, man, salt in the wound.

weight break through

Holy Crap! I just got on the scale and it said 199! I broke the 200 barrier! WOOHOO! Gotta keep it off! I was thinking about blowing off the diet today, but now I have renewed vigor! Huzzah!

Boy magnet

I've recently noticed a trend in my life that I hadn't picked up on before. When I was working at Lifetouch and photographing students, there were at least 3 or 4 high school seniors that flirted with me that I noticed, and one even asked me out. Recently of course, you all know about a certain 21 year old that was trying to get into my pants. And now, on Monday, the 19 year old that sits next to me in Government was a little flirty towards me. When we started the semester, he wouldn't even respond when I talked to him, and now he's gotten to the point that he talks to me all the time, even during class. At one point on Monday, I said it was hot in there, and he said, "Oh, that's me, I have that effect on women." Now, he could've been joking around, but traditionally, that's the sort of thing a guy says when he's flirting, or at least thinking about flirting. My immediate thought was, "Oh, HELL no." I am serious, that is exactly what I thought when he said that. Now I finally put it all together. Apparently, the universe is trying to make up for my oh so long dry spell by choosing me to be the one that gets to usher the next generation into manhood. And that's just not cool. Don't get me wrong, if I were the same manipulative, man using, sex fiend I was when I was younger, I would have already assembled all the legal ones into my own personal little harem of beautiful boy toys. Cause these boys all have one thing in common, they are all SO HOT. Dark haired, well muscled, and SMOKIN' fine. WAY better that I ever did when I was actually that age. The little Margie shoulder devil tells me I should, that it would be so easy, and why not, when I was 18, a 32 year old man (he told me 28 originally-cause 10 years was my limit then, too.) seduced me, got me to fall in love with him, taught me the ways of carnal pleasure, and left me broken and bitter to flounder in the sea of twisted pain that was all he left me with, why shouldn't I school these boys? They'd enjoy it right up till the end, right? But alas. I had to go and grow a conscience and morals somewhere along the way, dammit. I gave up premarital sex AND using people. Why, oh why didn't I plan ahead and not do that until AFTER my sexual peak? So I draw the line. No matter what the 19 year old says or does, I will NOT go out with him. The 21 one year old was too young, and I think he's mature for his age. *sigh* Maybe eventually some guys that are the right age will be attracted to me.
I am doing a little better in the area of that certain 21 year old. I no longer think of him first thing when I wake up, last thing when I fall asleep and constantly in between. Now he's the second or third thing I think about when I wake up, and I found I go as much as 20 minutes without thinking about him sometimes in the day. I'm so pathetic. I try to think about myself with other guys, like, say the imaginary guy who might try to pick me up when I go out on Thursday, and no matter what I carefully craft him to look like, he always turns into Jared. Or Tom Welling, but I am only human, I can't help that. Strangely, he never turns into Johnny Depp. Weird. Maybe Johnny's just too special to be transmogrified from some other vision, he always starts out as himself. At least I've lost enough weight that I've started attracting the attention of strangers again; it makes me feel almost desirable. There is something I've been thinking about though. I always used to wish that guys noticed me for me and not just for my hot body, but I've noticed these days when guys hit on me it takes them a while to get to know me first. (Used to strangers on the street would immediately hit on me.) Maybe that means finally guys are liking my personality, too, and the large boobies are the deciding factor. Or maybe I'm still just fat enough that my body isn't the main attraction still. Either way, I'm feeling better about myself, and that's the important thing. I figured out the other day that if I lose about 20 more pounds I'll just be chubby! Yay! But I seem to be stuck again. I've been more slack on the exercise lately, and on the diet. Better buckle down.
Mom's buying me some new clothes tommorrow! I need some jeans, cause the only ones I have that fit are bell bottoms, and I need some regular ones to wear when I go to Utah, as it's already snowing there. I have no idea what's up with that! I realized I need to go over the rest of my winter wardrobe since I've lost approximately 40-50 pounds since I last wore most of it! Yay! More closet space!
Apparently, spell checker ain't feeling the love tonight, so you'll just have to live with bad spelling. Now, remember when commenting that my weight loss and new clothes are not the main point of this post. Boys are. And I mean boys literally. :)

happy anniversary!

I realized the other day that I started this blog in February. I have been blogging for over six months! Craziness! How the time it doth fly. I wonder how much this has changed my life. I feel like I actually am able to get my thoughts cleared up a little by doing this, so I guess it's all for the better. In celebration, I changed the "about me" section, which said, "I'm new to this blogging thing and I don't know what to say about myself, so I won't." Or something close to that. I didn't really think it was appropriate anymore. I guess I'm a seasoned blogger now. I can't make rookie mistakes anymore or all the other bloggers will laugh at me!
So, Saturday I went clubbing with my cousins and Dave, and although there was NOBODY at the place, I actually still had fun. My cousin Elizabeth is the life of the party and we danced our booties off, although at times we were the only ones on the dance floor. There were approximately 2 guys that talked to us, and one decided to try to pick up Samantha and the other tried to pick up Elizabeth, and I must say, I was slightly offended, even though I really didn't want either one of these guys. Oh well. At least the old French guy that was hitting on Elizabeth flirted with me occasionally. And he bought me a cranberry juice, so it's all good. Of course, when I got my own cranberry juice, it was free, so he might not have bought it at all, who knows. The girl that works the door came to the restroom while we girls were in there, and she was very apologetic for the fact that it was so empty. She was very friendly and kept insisting that we come back on either a Tuesday or Thursday, because those are the big dance nights. AND Thursday is 80's night, which is awesome, and THIS Thursday the DJ is Peter Hook from New Order, so that's totally sweet. We decided to come back for that. I am excited, but I hope it's not TOO crowded, cause I need room to shake ma groove thang. And maybe if there's more guys there, I might at least get checked out or something, which would be nice for the old ego.
Tonight I took my Texas government test, which I was really worried about cause I'm old and the old mind is slipping. I never had too much of a head for dates and names, and there was lots of these things to be found on our study list. But the test wasn't as hard as I feared, and although I know for a fact that I got at least one question wrong, I know that I got lots of other questions right, so I'm pretty happy with that.
I'm not sure what I'm going to write my next essay about. It has to be a descriptive essay, and it needs to be 3-4 pages. Now what the heck can I describe for 3-4 pages? Nobody knows! I've been thinking about writing it about clubbing, which is why I went on Saturday. Clubbing is a very sensory experience, no? But Saturday's experience wasn't typical, so maybe I can get more data on Thursday when I go back. Or maybe I'll write it about something else. I dunno. I'm really worried that it'll become too narrative and I'll crash and burn. Eh. We'll see. If anybody has suggestions for what I could write about, I welcome it.
I'm going to see Ethan! Yay! I'll be going the last weekend in October. I didn't think I'd be able to get a ticket cause I didn't get paid enough, but thanks to my wonderful, wonderful family I'm going after all. They all pitched in to give and loan me enough that I was able to buy the ticket after all. They rock! I'm a little nervous though, cause I'm flying Delta. They had the best times for my schedule, and Josh says that, "they don't crash very often." What a ringing endorsement. Oh well. If I die, I'm having sex in the airplane bathroom while the plane's going down. :)
I need to lose a little more weight and I'll break the 200 barrier. I want to accomplish this in the next two weeks. I'm very excited about the idea. Wish me luck!

more boy talk

So, when Mickey and I started talking about doing something together, I wasn't sure whether he was meaning just as friends, or like as a date, although he did say that he'd rather go out on a Friday because that's when he goes on dates. I'm not really interested in Mickey romantically, but I was kinda hoping he might kinda crush on me so it would take my mind off you-know-who. But I don't think he's into me in that way. I dunno, I could be wrong, but that's just the feeling I get. I know, I know, it serves me right for being selfish and trying to use him, but I need something to get my attentions to turn! And being rebound guy can't be THAT bad of a gig, right? He did say my hair looked nice, but he could just be like that. And his goofy jokes started to wear on me pretty quickly. Oh well, I guess I'll just hope my skin hurries and clears up so I can get myself on match.com and find some other poor sucker to be my rebound guy. Of course, I'm beginning to think that I don't really read guys all that well, so I could be completely wrong. Anybody else that was there care to chime in? (For those who are not in the know, Mickey came with me and my friends to see Serenity tonight. I don't care to talk about the movie. You'll just have to see it yourself.)