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.)

My first paper

Well, I told you that when my first paper for grammer and comp was completed I would put it here for your perusal, so now's the time. It's gonna be kinda long, but that's how it goes. I got my rough draft back today and the teacher absolutely loved it, so I guess it's satisfactory. I hope my next one is good. I'm quite worried about it, cause it's a descriptive essay. I have no idea what I'm going to write about. We'll see. Here it is now, happy reading! Hope you like it!

The Best Day?

I support myself against the sink, while I look in the mirror. All day long, in cheerful voices, people have been telling me how much better I look. As I look over my hair, hanging lank and tangled, and my skin, which is a pale, uneven yellow somewhat resembling parchment, I think to myself, “If this is better, what in the world did I look like before?” It is December 20th, two days since my son was born, and I can’t imagine that I have ever felt worse in my life.

It all started in the middle of the night on December 17th. I went into labor. It hurt, but it didn’t last long, and at 10:48 on the 18th, after only two solid pushes, my son was born. “You’re a natural! You hardly even tore! We just need to sew that up, and you can settle in for a rest,” they told me. Just a few stitches and I would be back home in no time. “We just need you to stay here for a few hours and then you can go home,” they said. Everybody was so happy and full of smiles. My parents looked so proud, my brothers happy, but slightly disturbed by the whole thing. The midwives got me sewn up, changed, into bed, and then gave me the baby. David lay down next to me on the double bed and asked if I had decided on a name yet. We had discussed names, but after he showed a predilection for such boring names as Billy and Chris, I informed him that since he didn’t marry me, he didn’t have a say. “Fair enough,” he replied. I had finally settled on Ethan Alexander or Zachary Xavier, and I was really leaning toward Zachary, just because David really despised that name. But when he asked, I looked down at the little face and knew that he wasn’t a Zachary. “I guess I’ll go with Ethan,” I said. David sighed in relief. Everyone was amazed because Ethan could focus on things right away. “Of course he can,” I thought, “he’s my boy. He’s special. We always do things early in my family.”

They showed me how to nurse, which didn’t work out so well, but they said Ethan wouldn’t need to nurse for several hours. David looked at Ethan for a long time, and said, “Well, he looks just like me, so I guess if there was any doubt he’s mine, it’s gone now.” “Of course he’s yours,” I reply with my eyebrows drawn together, “you’re the only guy I’ve slept with for the past two years.” What the Hell does he think of me? Does he think that just because I took him back every time we broke up, I’d jump into bed with anybody?

As time went by, I started getting drowsy and grumpy. Pretty soon, I was feeling a shooting pain down the back of my left leg. “Oh that’s normal,” they said, “there’s a nerve running right by the uterus that sometimes is irritated by delivery. It should go away.” But it didn’t go away. As the minutes crawled by, the pain grew worse and worse. Three hours after delivery, it felt like someone was shoving a white hot ice pick into the back of my leg, and I was screaming at the top of my lungs. “It’s no big deal, we’ll get you some pain killers,” they told me. But in the hallway, I later found out, their chatter was a little different, “She hardly even complained during labor, she didn’t even scream during hard labor, why is she in so much pain now?”

My midwife came in and told me she was going to take my stitches out and take another look. Since the stitches hurt quite a bit the first time, I said, “No, no, that’s ok! I’ll be fine;” she insisted, however. She took a look, and discovered that although I had hardly torn externally, internally I had torn quite extensively. I was also bleeding internally, but she thought she could take care of it. As I squirmed in pain, they moved me to an exam room and gave me an IV, so that they could give me some drug that would make me ‘not so aware of the pain.’ As they shot the drug into my IV, I asked, “How long will it take for this to wor. . .?“ My voice trailed off into silence. “MMM. That’s nice!” I thought to myself. But I still felt the pain; after a few seconds had passed I didn’t care about the past pain anymore, just the current pain. After that, I was only aware of moments at a time. They had to have David hold me down because I wouldn’t stay still. They filled up garbage cans with blood soaked gauze. “Hey wait,” I thought sleepily, “I need that!” I was so tired. “I wish whoever is screaming would stop it so I can sleep,” I thought several times. I nodded off a few times, and once they woke me up as they were putting me into an ambulance. My midwife told me, “We’re sending you to the emergency room. When you get there, they’re going to put you to sleep so Doctor Fredrickson can do surgery on you.” “Oh good,” I say, “I like to sleep.” I’d never been in an ambulance before. I noticed the walls seem very tall and shiny before I drifted off again.

When I awoke once more, I was in an operating room, and there were doctors and nurses all around doing things to me. “She LIED!” I screamed, “She said I’d be asleep!” “We couldn’t put you to sleep. . .” I fell asleep before hearing why.

A man woke me up to tell me that he’s my anesthesiologist and he’s going to give me more oxygen so I’ll wake up more so they can do an epidural. “Do I need the epidural for the surgery?” I asked. “Oh no, he’s already done the surgery, he just needs to check his work.” “Why did you need to wake me up for that?” I wonder. They set me up with my legs straight out in front of me and I almost fell over. It was somewhat difficult getting the idea across to them that I couldn’t sit that way because my hamstrings were too tight and I thought I was going to fall over, but they finally let me swing my legs down on either side of the table. They did the epidural while I swam in and out of consciousness, and as they were leaving, I heard one of them say, “What would we have done if she had fallen off the table?” “Get that big husband of hers in here to pick her up, I guess,” someone else said, laughingly. “He’s not my husba. . .” I said as I drifted off again.

I woke up later and looked around in confusion. I seemed to be in a supply closet? Soon, a nurse came in and told me that all the recovery rooms were full, but they’d get me to my room soon. She needed to put a catheter in, and she was telling me oh so gently what she was doing step by step until I told her I had an epidural.

Soon enough, I was in my room with people swirling and bobbing all around me, making me feel sick to my stomach. “Where’s Ethan?” I ask. “Oh, Linda took him home,” my mom tells me. Linda is David’s mother. She was always nice to me, doing all that she could to help me. Sometimes I found it a bit stifling. “She seemed pleased as she could be to get to be the one to take him, but I couldn’t leave you. She’s on her way up here with him. The hospital will let him stay in the room with you as long as someone else is here 24 hours a day to take care of him so you don’t have to.” “But this is supposed to be the important bonding time,” I thought, sadly. Everybody came, my parents, David, his parents, his grandparents (being oh so nice and with all the gifts just like I was family), my brothers, my friends, people from church, whom I hardly knew; all of them talking, talking, talking and giving me things. “Why do people give potted plants to new mothers?” I thought, “Like a new baby isn’t enough to take care of.” I felt so weak; I could barely lift my arms. David bought me some really expensive looking white roses. It was the first time I got expensive roses, and it turns out that I am allergic to roses. Grocery store roses don’t smell, so I never noticed before. The smell of these gave me a colossal headache, but I would never let David know. It didn’t seem like a fair trade somehow: he kept his love and I got a kid and some stinky flowers.

One of my nurses recognized me somehow, maybe by my name. It turns out she is the mother of one of my “friends” from junior high, named Jennifer. Jennifer actually hung out with the people I hung out with, but we never liked each other. She turned them all against me before the end of junior high. “Oh, Jennifer will be so glad to hear how you’re doing!” she exclaimed. “Yeah, she’ll be thrilled to hear that the girl she thought was a lame ass loser in junior high has grown up to be an even bigger loser: college drop out, can’t get anybody to marry her, and turns out she can’t even have a baby without almost killing herself. Women in third world countries have babies successfully every day, but I can’t even do that right,” I think numbly.

Dr. Fredrickson came to see how I was doing and when he looked at the affected area, he wrinkles his nose and says, “Ew, gross! It looks like someone shoved a grenade up there!” I laughed. His frankness put me at ease. I’ve always hated how doctors pussyfoot around, never saying what they really mean, so as to not offend your ‘delicate sensibilities’. I’d never seen Dr. Fredrickson before, although I’d seen his name on my prescriptions often enough. He was the doctor my midwives reported to. He was a small African man with a kind face, and I liked him immediately, although I realized I had screamed at him the day before when I found out that I wasn’t unconscious. I apologized for anything horrible I might have said and he told me I didn’t say anything wrong, that I was perfectly polite. He also told me that I had a hematoma the size of a grapefruit. I asked what a hematoma was, and he said, “It’s like a blood blister, but it’s inside your body instead of outside.” I had ripped halfway up my uterus, all the way through to the rectum inside. The hematoma was putting pressure on the nerve that runs down my leg, that’s why my leg had hurt so badly. That nerve would bother me for years to come.

Someone was with me all the time, sometimes David, sometimes Mom, or my brother Joey. I would watch them holding Ethan or changing Ethan and sometimes I would be glad I didn’t have to do all that, and sometimes I would get angry that I couldn’t do that. The midwives had been against David before, but they would whisper to me, “He’s so sweet; you should give him another chance!” Of course he was sweet, he loves playing the knight in shining armor saving the damsel in distress. When another of his girlfriends, Erin, got a kidney stone during church one time, I thought he was going to carry her all the way to the hospital himself. But he had proven he didn’t want me, no matter how he was acting now. I would never forget how when I told him after I came to terms with the fact that I was pregnant that I thought we should get married, he told me that he never loved me, never even liked me, he just came back every time because the sex was so good. Then when he proposed to me so sweetly, and it all started to fall apart before the day was over, and I remembered how he later told me that he came there that day to tell me that it was over forever, but I was so beautiful that he proposed instead. “I can’t stand you,” “spend the rest of your life with me;” I can see how you could get those two confused. No sir, he would have to do more than hold my hand in delivery to prove himself to me. Fool me once, shame on me; fool me two hundred times. . .

On the second day, they took out my catheter and told me to walk to the bathroom. It didn’t go well. That was when I got to see how terrible I looked for the first time. On the third day, they sent me on a walk down the hall. I got tunnel vision and my legs buckled. They had to bring me back to my room in a wheelchair, but they still declared me fit for release. They told me that I lost half of my blood, and I really needed a transfusion, but transfusions were dangerous and they didn’t want to take the chance. Instead, I was to spend two months in bed, getting up only to go to the bathroom, take care of Ethan, or go to my check ups with my midwives. I was to eat lots of iron rich foods. And with that, on December 21st, they sent me off.

It was all arranged. My dad was moving to my room and I would stay with mom so she could take care of me and Ethan. The ride home was very uncomfortable. I couldn’t sit without pain and the roses were stinking the car up. Between the ride and the roses, when we got home I had to throw up. My dad carried Ethan inside, and when I was done vomiting, he helped me inside, too. David hadn’t come. When I got settled, I looked at Ethan. “You may look like your dad, but you’re my boy,” I thought. “It’s you and me, kid. You and me.” The roses didn’t get to stay.

turn of events

Today I feel a little better. Yesterday, I decided to shoot off a little email to Jared about how rude it is of him to avoid me by not answering my text and IM, and even if he doesn't want to go out with me anymore I thought we got along well enough that we could stay friends, unless all he wanted from girls is sex, and so on and so forth. It was just a few sentences, not long at all. I started feeling somewhat better about things around midday today, and then in the evening when I went online, a box immediately pops up with Jared saying he's not avoiding me, and he didn't get a text from me and he's been working really long hours the last couple of weeks. I questioned him on this for a little while (cause I'm not sure I believe that he didn't get my text or IM), and finally told him, "ok, I guess I forgive you then." He said, "psh." Dunno what that means, exactly, but after that we were chatting and having a pretty good time for a while, until my home teacher showed up. I'm glad. I was really bothered by the idea that either I'm so reprehensible he wanted to completely avoid me, or he's such an ass he wanted to avoid me completely. Both of those were quite unsatisfactory. And no, this doesn't mean I'm planning on making out with him anymore, but I am planning on staying friends with him. Friends are good to have. (Hey-I didn't mean it like that! Don't be so dirty!) And sometimes our prayers are answered according to what we're feeling, and I was really upset, so that could explain the negative answer I got. But I gots a plan, I'm not praying about him anymore until either he's proven to be something more than what he's been acting like, or I have a pretty good idea of what the answer's gonna be anyway. God's most likely sick of me bugging him about men, so I'll give him a break for a while. I'm gonna stop worrying about it and go with the flow, I think.

wah, wah, wah

Today has been a big, fat, feeling sorry for myself fest. Despite the fact that I've been doing my positive affirmations pretty much non-stop today. I'll explain the situation, but everybody needs to understand that some *mystical* religiosity will be held herein. Because I am religious, any important things I do, I consult God about. Sorry if you can't handle it, but that's how it is. I don't normally talk about that stuff so that I don't make people uncomfortable or seem like a crackpot, but this here's my blog, so I'm going with the whole story.
Everybody knows that last week Jared asked me out again, and I was all happy and I said that I knew he's mine now, basically. The reason I felt that way is because I felt really good about it, so I prayed about it, and when I asked if Jared could be mine, I had a "burning in my bosom," which is straight out of the scriptures for God answering yes. So I was happy, and willing to wait and be patient. Then Wednesday, I got out of class 3 hours early, and everybody I called wasn't available for me to hang out with, so I sent him a text, which he didn't bother to answer. I'm talking about Jared, not God. I would only text God in an emergency. :) Then Friday I went online, and he was online, and he stayed online for a little while and then went offline. You'd think he would've said something about my text, or said anything because I had actually teased him about never being online. But he didn't. So, I prayed about him again, and this time I kept forgetting what I was praying about midsentence over and over, which is straight out of the scriptures meaning the answer is no. God can't make Jared love me, but obviously Jared felt something for me Saturday morning, or God wouldn't have told me I could have him. So what happened between Saturday and Friday? Maybe Jared realized I wouldn't sleep with him. Maybe a friend talked some sense into him. Maybe he met a cute girl, I have no idea. But it sucks. At first I was angry, then sad, but I was having PMS, so I told myself it was just that. Now the PMS is gone, and I'm even sadder. I would think the fact that a really great guy asked me out on Saturday would make me feel better, but I don't. Maybe if I go out with this guy, it'll flip a switch and I'll be all overboard about him, but I doubt it. Because the fact of the matter is, I am actually attracted to a very small number of guys. Of those guys, most of them I stop liking when I get to know them better. I liked Jared from the second day I knew him. The first day I didn't really pay attention to him because he was just another applicant. But he started the next Monday, and I walked in and introduced myself and I don't remember what he said, but it was something extremely confidant and not expected. My antennae popped up, and I thought, "Hmmm, this one is interesting!" Then, of course, I found out how young he was, and how extremely different our purposes were and I decided I could never date him, but I contented myself on spending everyday with him. When he got fired, I actually cried! Can you believe it? I couldn't bare the thought of not seeing him again. I prayed and prayed the whole time he was working there and after he got fired for God to take those feelings away from me if I wasn't meant to date him, or send someone else so I could forget him, but it didn't happen, and, although the intensity lessened as the months went by, the feelings NEVER went away. We didn't really have much contact for months, and then when we started chatting, and he asked me out, I couldn't believe it! Could this mean a relationship with him was condoned? Now I feel like I'm left with nothing. I have a hole in my chest where I feel empty and it's just surrounded by a nice cushion of pain. I've never felt that way about Mickey (the guy who asked me out), or any other guy except for one, as a matter of fact, even though I've dated many and slept with some. And I still think about that one, even though it's been 11 years since I've seen him. Was all this just so that I could add another to my bittersweet memories pile? Not to be a little girl, but why me? I was thinking back today, to when I got my patriarchal blessing. I think I might have mentioned this before, but when I got it, the patriarch cried and hugged me and told me it was an honor to have met me. I thought that must be how he reacts everytime, but my mom said she'd come with several friends and and also for herself and dad and she'd never seen him act that way. I'd been told that the patriarch doesn't tell you everything he sees, and sometimes I wonder what all he saw. Did he see someone destined for greatness? Or did he see what a craphole I would make of my life? Obviously he saw something good, at least at some point, or he wouldn't have said the honor thing, but what if he saw a life I threw away by making the decisions that I've made? I dunno. I have no idea what's going to happen. all I know is that I'm so tired. I don't think I can handle much more of all this. Something good better happen fast is all I'm saying.

Now back to positive thinking. My life is going really well right now. This guy that I know from church that I haven't seen for a while emailed me, and we emailed back a forth a few times and now we're planning on going to do something together! He's got great plans, too, the kind of dates I always wished guys would plan, but they never do. Work's going well, it seems to be picking up a little. Church was good yesterday, cause I got to sit with Kiera again! Yay! We went to the Becker's for dinner, and we had a great meal, which was safe for me to eat, because Sister Becker is ALSO allergic to soy. Serenity is coming out on Friday, and I'm so excited, it's going to kick ass! I finally figured out what I'm going to do for my Government paper: I'm going to do a study of Rick Perry's time in office and analyze whether or not he's been a "good" governor. I'm looking forward to getting my rough draft back in grammar & comp on Wednesday and seeing how awesome the teacher says I am! All in all, things couldn't be better.

Sensation

So Cainnum said I should write poetry, and I guess that combined with having to write for my class got my creative juices flowing, and tonight my brain hatched this out. I feel slightly embarrassed cause poetry's for girls and sensitive guys, and I'm not really either. As a matter of fact, I kinda feel like a pansy right now, so I better post this fast before I change my mind. Then I gotta go hit something. Hard. And maybe I'll scratch my ass or something for good measure.

Sensation

My hair falls softly on my face
as night lays lightly on me
and caresses me with hands of wind.

The headlights reveal
just what they wish
while the music swirls around me
telling me I'm free falling
or am I the good girl,
with a broken heart?

On the right the telephone poles
speak to me of reason and logic
while on the left the trees
yell about chaos and nature.
The yellow dashes
keep time.

No time for thought now
I tell them.
Soon I will be back
in the world of decisions
and mindfulness.
Now is the time
for being.

What I do in my spare time

I have decided to share a list of the places I like to go on the internet. Many of you may already know about many of these sites, but it's a thing to do, so I'm doing it. Many of these are comic strips or cartoons, so I suggest starting from the beginning if you check them out. I have tried to provide the link to the first installment where possible, but sometimes, it's just not.

-Achewood: http://www.achewood.com/index.php?date=10012001
Comic strip that is funny most of the time. It's about these cats and stuffed animals and the lives they live underground. It has some obscenity, but what are you gonna do. After the author had a baby, he started including a baby update everyday just below the strip, and that is actually my favorite part. Other than Phillipe.

-Friendly Hostility: http://www.friendlyhostility.com/d/20040108.html
Comic strip that is kinda weird sometimes, but I totally dig it. uh. . .it's about these people, and they do stuff. . .just read it. It very seldon has off days, so that's a good thing.

-Sore Thumbs: http://www.sorethumbsonline.com/d/20040308.html
This comic strip is about these people that work in a video game store together, but that's not really what it's about. It's political in nature, leaning so far to the left that it sometimes falls over. When it's funny, it's really funny, but when it's not, it's lame. It's still worth checking out, though.

-Sin Fest: http://sinfest.net/d/20000117.html
This comic strip is probably my favorite. It's is too funny. Plus, there's like a gazillion of them, so you can read it forever! It's about this guy and a girl, and God and the devil, and a dog and a cat, oh Hell, just read it.

-Devil's Panties: http://devilspanties.keenspot.com/d/20011008.html
This is a comic strip I recently discovered, and to be honest, I haven't decided how I feel about it. But I keep reading, so that's a good sign. It seems to be about two girls that do things.

-Queen of Wands: http://www.queenofwands.net/d/20020722.html
This strip is retired, sadly, so there's a limited number. I really liked this one cause the main character is SO much like me, although it gets kinda soapy and annoying sometimes, but I probably do, too.

-Alien loves Predator:In New York no one can hear you scream: http://alienlovespredator.com/index.php?id=1
I actually just found this one today through a link on Friendly Hostility! It's a riot! It's a comic strip that places Alien and Predator as room mates living in New York city and conducting their lives just as if they were real people. It's awesome!

-Making Fiends: http://www.makingfiends.com/
Cartoon that is SO funny! It's about this girl that makes fiends and is evil and mean, and this other girl that pisses her off because she's so enduringly happy and unflappable.

-Big Bunny: http://www.big-bunny.com/
This is a series of cartoons made by the same girl that makes Making Fiends before she started it. It's about a giant pink bunny that wants to eat some children. Uh. . .that didn't sound right. Also check out her first efforts called Muffin films and can be found under Fuzzy Facts at this site or About the Series at Making Fiends.

-Snopes: http://www.snopes.com/
This is a site where they investigate Urban legends and either prove or debunk them. Usually the latter. It is huge and you could spend weeks there without reading everything.

-PostSecret: http://postsecret.blogspot.com/
This is a site where people make post cards with secrets on them that they've never told anyone and send them in. It's great fun!

-The food timeline: http://www.foodtimeline.org/
Ok, I'm a dork. This site chronicles the entire history of mankind's food. It lists just about everthing we eat and when it was invented. If you click on the food, it'll usually take you to a little explanation of the history of the item. And on the other side of the timeline are cookbook and recipe links that have stuff from the different times. It's kick ass!

-TVGuide: http://www.tvguide.com/default
I feel like a goober putting this one, but in all fairness, I go to it every day, so it deserves it's props. I read the Ask Ausiello column religiously cause he always has the scoop on shows. I also read entertainment news. There's lots of stuff there, so you get the idea.

There you go. Have fun.

gratuitous update

All right, kidlets. I guess it's time to update my blog, although there's really not anything to say, since everybody already knows about the most interesting turn of events. I'm speaking, of course, about Jared asking me out again. It was good and fun, and I feel strangely freed. It's weird. I kinda feel like it doesn't matter how often he calls me now, because I know he's under my spell, or something, and eventually he'll be calling me all the time. I dunno. Well, anyhoo. The night we went out, his phone kept ringing and ringing like crazy, and of course I didn't say anything about it, but eventually he said "she" is driving him crazy. When questioned, he said, "Oh, this girl I was seeing." He had the grace to look slightly uneasy. I said something about a friend who IM's me all the time, (and no, it's not anyone reading this-Cainnum! Don't be paranoid.) and how annoying it is. He said, "SEE! YOU get it! It's annoying when somebody calls you twenty times a day, isn't it!" Eventually he turned his phone off. Over the course of the evening, I found out this girl is Hispanic and Catholic, and apparently, Catholic girls are "crazy." When we got to his house, she was calling there every few minutes. He told his brother not to answer it, and said how rude he thought that was, because he told her he was going to bed, yet she was still calling. Interesting, no? She stopped after a while, fortunately, cause it was annoying. I wonder if he's actually broken up with her yet, or if he's dating both of us. Of course, I went back to Josh's house after, and spent some time with my homies, and when I went home, I couldn't sleep. Literally. I lay in bed till 7 in the morning, when I finally got up. Yes, I know you all know this, but it's my life, I'll tell it how I want.
At that point, I went to my meeting with the Bishop to discuss my calling, and of course he talked me into keeping it. He even actually kinda made me feel good about it. We'll see how I feel when I actually start doing it. Then I went home and got a few hours sleep, and of course, anyone reading this will know what I did for the rest of that day. On Sunday, despite the fact that I had had a relapse, and was running a fever again, which I'm sure was in no way connected with my immune system being compromised on Friday night, I went to church, and I got to spend some time with my assistant Tina, and my new assistant Emily. I really like both of them, so that was really fun. Sunday night I got to watch my not even unwrapped yet copy of Sin City with my brothers. SO GOOD! Seriously, I love that movie.
I realized Sunday night that I had made an egregious mistake. I hadn't done any of my homework, except my essay! Yikes. Being sick, it completely slipped my mind that I had readings to do and journals to write. Oh well. I read about half the government assignment and did the rest Monday after class. Next week we have to turn in our topic for Texas Government. It is for a paper that has to be 10-12 pages long, and can have anything to do with Texas Government. How can I work under these conditions? Man's inhumanity to man! I need guidelines people!
My job is kinda bugging me. It's only Tuesday and I already long for the weekend. It's nothing wrong with my job, this is just how I am. I've never been in a job or a relationship (other than platonic) for more than 2 years. No that's not true. I was at Lifetouch for almost 3 years, but they gave me massive chunks of time off at once. So I've been at American Dental Arts of 2 years and 4 months, and it's starting to chafe. It's ok, though, I'll stick it out this time. I hope.
I guess I'll go to tae kwon do tonight, although I fear another relapse. I need to start exercising again, as I haven't done for over a week. I hope they don't work me too hard. Maybe I'll cry again if they do! We'll just see what happens I guess.

Positive update

I am on a writing rampage today, as I just finished my first essay for my grammar and comp class. It's long, but I think that when it's in the final draft I'll put it up here for everyone's approval. So I've been doing positive thinking since Monday, and of course, I haven't expected any changes yet, but there actually have been! Mostly in me, but that's ok. On Monday, I noticed the first change. When people look at me, I usually get all paranoid and think, "WHAT?!?" But on Monday when people looked at me, I either didn't think anything, or thought that they just noticed me or something. No paranoia! I thought it was funny for the first two days how my inner dialogue would be something like this: "positive affirmation, hey you fucking idiot! Where'd you learn to drive? Positive affirmation, why you do that Margie? You can't do anything right! Positive affirmation, oh fuckin' A, what the hell is wrong with me!" But after two days, the negative stuff stopped, for the most part. Of course, it might be because of the fever induced brain wipe I received, but I'm choosing to think it's an attitude adjustment. And, yes, I actually do say "fuckin' A" in my head. I actually curse WAY more in my head than I do in conversation, if you can believe that. Today I went out to run errands, and I noticed when I was walking into stores and stuff, that I was holding my shoulders back and my head high and that I had more swing in my hips and more bounce in my step. Weird. When I went to make a deposit, I actually chatted with the cute teller guy! I had him switch my regular checking to a student checking so that I can get free bill pay, and it took a while, so we were chatting and joking. He was pretending to be mean to me and said he would switch it for me. I said I would cry and he said, "OH, please!" I said, "Oh you like to make girls cry, do you?" He claimed to have t-shirt that says so. I even made a slightly off color joke about the size of his stamp. It was fun. He's cute, too. I'm not saying this is going anywhere, but before I was afraid to talk to cute guys, because I thought they would be like, "Why the hell is this ugly fat lady talking to me? Like she has a chance!" I wasn't even worried about it this time! Of course, I do go to that bank every two weeks, so. . .

Also, I caught the first ep of Supernatural last night, cause I didn't have anything better to do. It was pretty good. Joe watched it full length on Yahoo, but he says it's gone now. Maybe you could download it or catch it at the WB website? I strongly recommend trying to catch it.

wet dream. . .in a way

Last night, I had a dream. My dream was most likely Katrina inspired, but it seems weird since that's kinda old news. Oh well. My dream was this: I was on a dock or pier or patio or something consisting of wood slats attached to a building and with a ladder attached. Everywhere around me water was swirling and rushing as the area was flooded. Joey came swimming up, and he had Ethan. He lifted Ethan up to me (Ethan was much smaller than actual size), and then climbed up the ladder. As he was climbing up the ladder, I realized Ethan wasn't breathing. I asked Joey, "Is he dead?" That seems like kind of a dumb question in retrospect, but you know how dreams are. Joey said, "Yep," in that tight little way he has of saying something when he's really really upset and wants to be screaming and ranting but can't because he needs to be nice to the person he's talking to. I started screaming, "NO! NO!" and crying and rocking just like those annoying women do on medical dramas when the doctor tells them their child didn't make it. I always hate that on TV, you wouldn't think I'd do it in my own dream. Then, I realized that this was a dream and I didn't have to settle for this crappy outcome. So I stopped screaming, and either Joey or I (I don't remember which) tried to do CPR, but there was too much water blocking his airway, so I did a kind of modified heimleich maneuver on him, and after 4 or 5 pushes, Ethan started coughing up water! After he finished coughing it up, he was perfectly fine. No brain damage or anything! How lucky! Suddenly, I awoke because my nose started running. Ah, sick dreams. So vivid. Thanks to all the peeps out there who collaborated to get me sick, by the way. I really appreciate it. I've heard that if you dream that someone you know died, it means fortune will soon be smiling on them. I hope that's true! Of course, he didn't die permanently, so what does that mean? Eh. Probably just one of those crazy sick dreams. Dreaming is always so much more interesting when you have a fever! YAY!

Crazy me

When the day started out, I was full of fear. You see, I have struggled with depression my entire life, to some degree or another. When I was a teenager, I constantly wished I was dead, and the only thing that held me back was the idea that something better might happen tomorrow. Tomorrow could've been the turning point, and if I kill myself today, I'll miss it. As I approached my twenties, my depression grew worse and worse. When I was 19, I planned to kill myself twice. Once I realized I didn't have enough of the right kind of drugs to finish the job, so I didn't try, and the second time, I was really going to do it, but my boyfriend recognized something in my eye and stopped me, quite literally, in the nick of time. I never again had that kind of resolve, but my problems didn't go away. I started to feel as if I wasn't me, like I was watching this girl Margie from a short distance away all the time. I was completely detached. I would watch her do crazy self destructive things and wonder why. I would shake my head in an emotionless evaluation saying to myself that that girl really needed some help. I would put on her makeup in the morning and make it darker and weirder every day, hoping that someone would see that she wasn't right and help her. She spent most of her time laying on the couch, cause she didn't want to do anything, but she went to work because it gave her money so that she could buy alcohol. Alcohol helped her forget herself and escape for a little while. Sometimes people would come drink with her or talk with her or fuck her, and she tried to pretend that she was enjoying all that and that she was normal. She felt bad that her friends were suffering because of her, but she couldn't see any way out. Whenever she did anything, she would see two scenarios in her head: the right, polite, normal version, and the OTHER version. For example, when she crossed the street, she would see herself waiting for all the cars to pass, and then herself carefully crossing after looking both ways, and she would also see herself stepping out right in front of the biggest truck on the street. Whenever she helped a customer, she would see herself answering their questions politely and accurately, and she would see herself grabbing them and smashing their brains out on the counter. Etc. One day, I couldn't tell which one was the real one and which one wasn't. That's when I decided that I had to re-enter my body and take the situation into my own hands. I got help. I went to therapy. I didn't get on medication right away, cause I wouldn't stop drinking, and antidepressants and alcohol don't mix. I left school. I got on antidepressants, and they didn't help. I decided I had to do what I had to do, and took my mental health into my own hands. When I got pregnant, my depression went away. Not completely, of course, but it got a lot better. Then when I was converted to Mormonism-that was the real turning point. Yes, I know I was baptised when I was eight, but I had to be converted myself. It was all better after that. As they say, I found God, and he took away my suffering. Isn't that what the propaganda says? Unfortunately, that only seems to have been a temporary fix. As everybody knows, all summer, I've been having some problems with being down sometimes. It's actually not this summer. This has been going on for about a year, and it's been getting steadily worse. I have found myself for the past few weeks thinking about how much I wish I were dead, but things might get better tomorrow. I've been on that ride before, and I really don't care to repeat it. I have felt as if black tendrils of depression have been curling into my brain, and they are twining themselves deeper and further in everyday. I felt hopeless and helpless this morning when I went through my morning routine. Don't worry, although I joke about it, I'm not thinking about killing people just yet, I just have a macabre sense of humor.
Then at church, something interesting happened. Brother McFall sat down by me and started to talk to me. He asked me a question about dating or something, and I said I don't date because men don't like me. He told me stories about how the difference between successful people and failures is attitude. He started talking about how the universe vibrates and our minds can change things. He said that our minds don't know the difference between real things we think, and the things we make up, and the universe doesn't either. He said that I should everyday tell myself over and over that I am attractive and that men love me and want to be with me. He said it may take six months to a year, but the universe will start to believe me and that men will start approaching me. He said it works with other things, too. He said that his business was bad, and he started saying to himself that he was a great contractor and that people want to hire him. He told me that within three months he had to hire more help to keep up with all the calls. He said he tells himself that he is wealthy and now he always has money to spare. He says that if you convince your brain of these things, the universe will adjust itself to your reality. Now, I don't know if I believe all that, but Josh has told me before that I should do positive affirmations, and it seems like this is basically the same thing. I don't really think the universe will adjust to me, but I think if I could convince my brain that I am attractive and fun and, most of all, not crazy, that maybe things really could change for me. If only Josh had explained it so convincingly! :) Maybe things really could be better tomorrow. Now, of course, I'm gonna have to find new friends because I've revealed to all these just how crazy I am, but maybe I can get a positive affirmation for that, too.
Also, Brother Christopher was sitting nearby, and he said he really doesn't understand it, that if he were single he would ask me out. I thought that was nice.

my sex life

Ok, kids, this post is gonna be a little crass, so if you can't handle it, better sign off now. You've been duly warned. Ethan left on August 22nd, which was a Monday, and the last date I had with Jared was the Wednesday before that. So it has been three weeks since last I made out. I really didn't notice up till now cause of the trauma of Ethan leaving, the excitement of school starting, the excitement of being freed, the worry about how Ethan is settling down in Utah, etc. Now school has started and I've realized I can handle it, Ethan has stopped having nightmares and seems extremely happy and well adjusted when I talk to him, I got socialed out (see next to last post), and I have adjusted to my situation. So now it has hit me. I am so HORNY. You'd think that since I went 8 years without even being kissed once, I would be pretty acclimated to the situation, but no, apparently, that's not how it works. I've really got to get this situation under control, cause it looks like there's no solution. I don't think Jared's gonna want to make out with me anymore (just a guess. :) ) And I really don't see any other guys rushing to vie for my hand, so, I guess I'm just screwed. Although not literally of course, that would make this post moot. Although Jared did offer to help me find a cheap motorcycle that he would then help me fix up, which seems like a pretty generous offer to make to someone you're not even boinking let alone dating, so maybe he's generous with the favors and wouldn't mind me asking? Nah. Probably not a good idea. *sigh* I guess Josh is right and my counter has been reset. It IS just like growing your hair out. It sucks. Oh well. Maybe I'll just watch Moulin Rouge. Ill fated love stories always make me feel slightly better about my plight. I may be alone, but at least my one true love isn't dead. That I know of. Crap, now I have something else to worry about.

weight update

My public has demanded a weight update. I thought nobody cared, so I stopped, but I guess I was wrong. This morning my weight was 208! I am very excited to finally be seeing regular progress. That's 52 pounds gone. If I aim for 160, which is the top of my ideal weight range, I need to lose 48 more pounds. I've gone over the hump! Hooray! In other news, Cainnum: it's really hard finding all your new comments. I get them at my email, but then I have to come here to find them for the context and possible reply. Man alive! No class this week, and I still haven't done a shred of homework. I'm such a slacker. I"m gonna end up reading 2 chapters for Government on Sunday night and 2 stories and a chapter for English on Tuesday night, I just know it! I need to buckle down! Eh. Other than that nothing really exciting going on around here. Bye!

my social capacity

So, remember how when Ethan left I started going out every night, and I'm in school and going to church and all? I think I socialed myself out. I finally hit the breaking point yesterday at church. I was wearing a dress that I don't really care for and fasting, which I'm not really sure is a good idea, and people kept telling me how much the liked my dress. I started to get really annoyed. I know it's weird, but nobody ever tells me they like my outfit when I'm wearing something I really like, like all black. No, they tell me when I'm wearing the big shapeless orange and maroon dress. So I started to get annoyed and after a while I just felt like saying, "Yeah, yeah, I look great, go away." And, as everyone knows, I want to be released from my calling as Single Adult Rep, a request which they said no to. I don't want to go to the activities full of people with silver hair and false teeth. I never get any information from the stake leadership. Put those things together and you end up with a very frustrated Margie. How am I supposed to do my calling if nobody tells me what's going on? So in our ward, we're supposed to have a ward single adult correlation meeting the first Wednesday of every month, and I just started school, so I shouldn't be able to go to it, but it so happens that I don't have school this week. Dammit. So I was thinking about not going and saying I forgot, but Brother Koburna came up to me at the end of church and reminded me. He's the other Single Adult Rep, and he's been at it awhile, so he knows the ins and outs. But he also said he was going to be out of town, so he wouldn't be there. This meeting consists of: him, me, a lady from Relief Society, a guy from Priesthood, and a member of the bishopric. All of them are there to meet the needs of the single adults. Brother Koburna and I are supposed to tell them what those needs are. So I told Brother Koburna that I already asked to be released and they said no, so I didn't want to be there anyway, and if he wasn't going to be there I didn't see any point of having the meeting because I don't know what's going on. He said that I should call the stake rep, who happens to be Linda Barnett, Ethan's grandmother, and ask if there's anything going on. I said that I shouldn't HAVE to call her, she should let me know if anything is happening. He said, "Yeah, but you're proactive, so. . ." I said, rather brusquely, "I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO." And stormed off. Poor guy. It's not his fault, but I hadn't eaten. I'll blame it on that. In the parking lot, mom was standing around talking to Sherri Foster and Susan Porter, and I went up and made lets go away motions. She told them she needed to go, and then, apparently as a continuation of what they were all ready talking about, Sister Porter said, ". . .like Margie, she's got an old soul." Now it's weird that she said that, cause people have been saying that about me since I was a few days old. I'm not even joking. I really don't know why this is a recurring theme in my life, but I just think it's a little odd. I replied to her, "Yeah, that's why I've always been a cranky old lady!" They thought that was really funny. I'm glad I could bring a little joy into their hum-drum lives. :) ANYHOO. So I went home, and at some point in the evening I hit maximum social load. Sorry to all those affected by the devastation. After Josh left (one of those affected), I played around on the computer for a little while and then went to my room and shut the door. Every once in a while, someone would come to the door and try to be all talking to me, and they would get barely restrained annoyance at best and their head snapped off at worst. Then Becky called to talk about Ethan and life, and she was in such a good mood because she was happy to be talking an adult. It was so annoying. But I was trying really hard to be nice. So then she was talking about how much I must miss Ethan, and then I did! And I started crying! I did it quietly, so I hope she didn't notice. Then when I got up this morning, I still didn't want to talk to anybody so I played video games for a while. I think I've recharged now, which is good, cause I'm typing this, talking to two people on IM, and talking to mom and Joey at the same time. Difficult.