Look, I’m stupid. Beyond stupid. Beyond careless, and it’s like my humanity is delayed by a quarter of an hour.

Sometime after my ex and I broke up, I asked one of his brothers if he’d like to go out on a date one night.
No, the brother said, That would be a little weird.

Well, I’m fucking socially retarded, so I wouldn’t know. But sure.

My ex helped me with my Calculus homework that night. Months later, he’s helping me with calculus again and asks, “You asked SOANDSO on a date?”
I’m embarrassed. Yeah, I did, I said. I’m also pissed. I told this jackass not to say anything, and apparently, after enough pot and alcohol, it slipped. Maybe because he was bragging. Maybe because he’s curious about the reaction. I don’t know. I chewed his ass off via cell phone. He apologized, he was embarrassed.
After we’ve all been drinking too much, my ex comes up and grabs my hand, and tells me, “Look, I still like you. But I know SOANDSO likes you too, and that’s okay. I understand”.

I just did the same thing. I am the SOANDSO, only I’m so fucking stupid, I thought I was doing the right thing. I hate sneaky. I hate dishonesty. I hate things getting though the grape vine and having to explain stuff. In trying to clear the field, I just put someone in my position.

Only, I did this at work. Even I told Ouzin exactly a week ago I wouldn’t date people at work because that creates too much drama. It’s too much of a fucking headache.
I am the fucking headache.  

No, no one on facebook can read it.

Is it stupid that I still feel the same way?

Sparks.

by Rachel Eddleman on Monday, June 1, 2009 at 8:57pm

I swear, you get goofier and cuter every time I get a chance to see you.

Not to mention, more handsome.
Ahh, you were great to stare at. 
Who knew a tan could do so much?
(and you looked great without it to begin with)

And stronger. Maybe it’s the tan, but your chest was more defined.
I saw some muscle in those arms of yours. 
I couldn’t defend myself properly from you! 
a) You are stronger than before. We used to be an even match.
b) I was distracted by those arms! They were bigger.

I’m not a muscle fanatic, but damn, you look gooood.
Is what little swimming your doing actually toning you up that much?
Hmmm.

But back to the goofiness, the silliness, the cuteness (that’s such a strange word to use to describe you, but when a word fits…)

When ever I last saw you, before last night, you kept grinning while we were wrestling and cuddling, and I was seeing you from all sorts of angles.
One of which (looking down on you) sorta gave you… a trollish look.
Huge cheeks, big wonderful smile, and your eyes looking up. Damn, the greatest.
Even if you come off as trollish, you’re still handsome as fuck.
(and after sex wrestling is one of my favorite things to look forward to. Now you’re… stronger. It’s no longer a fair fight :[ 
Ooh, that and playing with your back. Which you’ll won’t let me do! My hands would skim your entire body and could go anywhere! You’ve gotten so much more sensitive!)

And that was last last week.
You’ve broken your record of goofiness this week.
(I’m just going to throw in (although I think i’ve already said it) the way you started, rushing in, big grin, leaning towards me, I loved it.
Your smile is the most amazing thing I’ve seen. Ahh)

Anyway, silliness number one: Stealing my covers, and then… hiding under them, mouth and nose covered, eyes mischievously looking at me.
You looked so ridiculous, and perfect. Thrilling isn’t the right word, but it comes to mind.
Ahh, I wanted to do a lot right then and there.
One was say, “What the fuck?” (I think this is what I decided to do. I was just so surprised)
Another was to go under the covers and maybe bite you or something. 
Or nibble. Or just play with your chest some more. Hmmm.
Another was to hide under there with you. Maybe kiss you a bit.

Fuck, when am I going to see you again?

Silliness number two: Cheek attack! You… mouthed my cheek. With lots of spit and for a couple of seconds.
Hmm, I love your mouth on my face but to… chomp my cheek isn’t sexy.
It is goofy and cute, though. You shocked and surprised me a lot there.
I guess I’m blown away over how different you are around me (in bed).
You’re so comfortable (in both ways; you feel great and you’re willing to… do anything around me). 

Hmmm, and hearing you say, “I want a warm ass”.
Silly, silly.
I almost want to put that up as a facebook status.

I don’t forget… moments. I can replay memories scene by scene, word by word, usually. Especially things like this.

Ahh, it’s hard to believe you’re Will Parker sometimes.
Your other side doesn’t mesh well with what I’ve built in my head as you.
Not that I’m complaining. I’m just… meeting a new person, I guess.
I’m still having trouble putting the cold bastard i know to the grinning, soft thing that warms up my bed. There’s so much to you. Complex.
You hide too well. You’ve fooled everyone, even me (sometimes). 
Hmmmm.

Also, I feel more like an escape from your life than… an actual part of it.
I’ve noticed though, you sort of want it that way.
Am I right?

Huh. I want to leave this on a good note.
I love that cold bastard in his warm, tan body, that’s hiding the trollish, sensitive, grinning goofball.

Hmmm. You.

MAH HOUSE MAY BURN DOWN TONIGHT!
Okay, so I had this crush on a guy in cross country freshman year. I can’t remember his name, started with a D, he was a junior, TOTALLY OUT OF MY LEAGUE, and I sat next to him sweaty after the pre-run at Berry.

ANYWAY. He had dark hair, he was quiet, except when saying something lolable, had the shag (but it wasn’t obnoxious, it was almost Beatle-esque, which made him look oh-so mature to my freshman beating heart), and PLAYED IN A BAND. I thought he was cute, up until the full on crush occurred. THAT WAS WHEN:

Apparently, this kid drank some weird ass concoction the year before, and the guys decided to make this a tradition. SO THEY MADE IT FOR HIM AGAIN.

They dumped olive oil, tomatoes, coke, vinegar, sugar, sprite, everything on the table went into the glass. You know how in Elementary school you mixed everything into your mix carton and dared kids to drink it? Yeah, that happened at that Italian place the day before the Berry race. He drank it all. No stopping, no gagging, no taking a breath. This kid chugged the nastiest shit imaginable AND CRUSHING BEGAN RIGHT THERE.

Maybe it was because he was such a badass. I don’t know. I still think it’s disgusting, but my heart gives a little thump.

OH, NOTE: I’m not going to pretend like I was part of the cross country team, because I wasn’t. I was in varsity, but I didn’t talk to anyone but Kelly Calhoun. That was the main reason why I didn’t join the next year.

Another note: Freaked the other kid out in the car with us after the pre-race. Apparently, I knew one of the guy’s sister from preschool. Yeah, I hadn’t talked to her since then, but I totally remembered her name. Totally creeped the guy out. “Oh, I went to preschool with her. She told me not to blink when I got sand in my eyes.”
Weirding people out, day ‘n night.
It’s hard to forget that most people don’t remember every useless second of their lives.

I am done at Rosa Mexicano.
It’s ridiculous, I know. These places spend hundreds of dollars training me, and I walk away.

But that job didn’t… feel good. I was stressing over it. The people I trained with dropped out, and that left only me, to be ground up by management. And they were hassling me, riding my ass over senseless things. 

So that’s that.

I’ve figured out how to end this hiccup, but for some reason, I’m hesitant to let out the words.
I left Will a voicemail with it on there, but I don’t think it saved. If it did, that’s fine. Maybe that’ll be enough to get us back together. I think so.
There’s always something that can be said to correct the situation. The perfect idea or thought that can steer things in a better direction.
Finding it isn’t always easy or quick though. Obviously to solve something that was perviously alluding you, you’ve got to grasp a new concept that wasn’t there before.

In this case, I just has to see something very old and worn out in a different perspective. MC helped me out there.

I’m hesitant to repeat it, though. Like I said, I don’t think the message saved. Although I was rushed to get that idea out to end this, now that I’ve got a second chance at saying it, I’m stopped. How often can you suck words back down your throat?

These are just words, the concept of an idea, no action. I know what’s wrong with us: Me. Before I push an idea out, I want to change the problem, so there’s substance behind the words.

I see Will every weekend now. He’s affectionate. These were the main things I complained about before, and I’m still having problems. I’m still not satisfied, I still want more.

And I know the solution, I figured it out why we squabble, why I can’t settle. I think I want to correct it before I reenter that relationship. It’ll be more of a commitment. Plus, being alone motivates me a lot more.

I can’t describe the Deja Vu last night. I got hit with it in a flash, and I kept wondering why I didn’t remember having that dream when I applied there.

I went to Rosa an hour earlier than I needed to (4) so I could get my tests out of the way. They’re having me memorize all the appetizers and their ingredients, all the drinks and their ingredients, all the brunch items and their ingredients, all the deserts and their ingredients, and all the entrees and their ingredients.

It’s pretty overwhelming.

But I’ve learned in the past two days of shadowing how useful it is to know this shit. People want to if there’s died or shredded chicken in the Sopa de Tortilla. No, you don’t want the Suaza, m’am. House Margarita? This is a fucking Mexican restaurant. It’s a HOUSE OF MARGARITAS.

I was the only girl on the floor, both SAs (server assistants, they do all the grunt work, and get paid very well to do it) were little Mexican guys, maybe 19-20. They rapidly fire at each other in Spanish. If they talked slower, I could probably understand them. You only need a handful of words to comprehend what’s being said. They weren’t from Mexico city, though. They talk too fast for that.

Three other Hispanics were on the floor. One little guy, from Mexico, who was Will’s and my server when we went and has been extremely nice, tried to help me cheat on my test. I forgot all the beers and could only drag six from my head. He said, “You have questions, just ask.”

But there’s cameras everywhere, and I’m not going to cheat. He helped me set up some coffees later on.

The other guy was defiantly Mexican. He looked like a football player and was 6 foot, which is unusual. He’s an honorable guy, though. Funny how easy that is to pick up.

Finally, there’s Ramon, who I shadowed. He’s been there the longest ad has so many tricks up his sleeves that I was blown away. Like the Reggie of Rosa. He said it very well too, “I’m going to give you some tools for your belt, and the longer you work here, the more tools you’ll get, and the more you can build.”

He rips off the percentage counter on the check. It tells the guest how much a server should get for 20%, 18%, or 15% of their bill. Ramon removes this with a credit card, and says, “I can make more than 20% on a check. A guest sees the 20% on this and feels comfortable leaving that. They don’t see it, and I wind up making more that 20%.”

It worked all night. I’ll start doing that.

Tey is the General Manager (or the head manager). He’s a short Asian guy with some sort of lisp. He knows his shit, and seems to be serious, but I saw him flinging rubber bands at one of the hosts. He’s supposed to get super comfortable around the servers.

Alex already dropped out of the training. I don’t like the other guy that I’m training with, but everyone’s very friendly, so I’m not worried.

Things got really busy all at once. Ramon got a table of 11, and I basically took care of his 2 tops while he dealt with them. If I’m only going to start out with 2 to 3 tables my first couple of nights, this is going to be an easy job, especially with an SA clearing and resetting my tables and refilling my drinks.

This is when I had my deja vu. It slammed on me while I was refilling drinks, and I remember having a dream about working at Rosa, about things around me being busy and stressful, but I was at ease and relaxed. I remember Ramon. I remember the colors, the dim lights, and soft atmosphere. This wasn’t me feeling like it’s happened before, but I actually had a dream about last night not too long ago. Maybe sometime during the school year? I remember telling someone about it too, or thinking about telling someone.

Circ is what everyone’s waiting for, what everyone’s talking about, what everyone’s rehearsing for. Circus de Soli presents itself behind Atlantic Station, and when people pay for $150 dollar tickets, they want good food before and after a show. It’s basically a money making machine for this place, and it’s the reason why I got hired. Cavalira or whatever (the horse show) starts right afterwards, so that’s another three or four months of serious money pouring into the area.

Oh. I forgot Dwayne. Or Daryl. Or whatever the hell his name is. He was the only white guy on the floor. On my first shadowing, I was late and ran from my place to Rosa. I came into pre-shift (a little meeting thing) panting and sweating a little. Daryl doesn’t waste a second introducing himself. I know exactly why he’s so forward about it. Later on in the night, he starts asking “general questions”, as he called them.
“How do you like it so far? How are you doing? Are you single?”

“No.” 

Maybe I take that stuff too seriously, but my total lack of interest in him (he looks like a meth’d out Jared Leto) hurt his pride, and now he’s a dick to me. I need to just pretend to be a lezzie or something so guys won’t get so damn offended.

Speaking of which, the SAs were clearing a table and talking. I was trying to listen in, and one of them looked at me and asked, “You speak Spanish?”.
“Eh, not much. I understand a lot. I had a Mexican boyfriend for a while.”

“Oooh, she likes Mexicans!” More Spanish. Too fast, but I’m not an idiot.

“I’ve got a boyfriend now, and he’s white.”

Disappointed noises. “What, you don’t like Mexicans anymore?”

“It was a bad experience.” 

“Eh, don’t judge all us all from that.”

Who said I was? I just want a guy who’s taller than me. I wasn’t going to say that, though.

Before all this, though, I went into Halloween Thrills (the typical halloween shop with the typical costumes) and got super, super pumped for the season. It’s funny how it sneaks up on you. If I can get Will to comply, I want to do like, a couple costume thing.
Not like his parent’s dorky Light Sock and Plug combo, but something awesome. Batman and Robin (that would fuck with some kid’s childhood, I’m sure) or Pilot and Flight Attendant, or Captain and Sailor. Just the normal Dom and Sub combinations.

Considering how little contact I have with the world already, it sucks not to be in touch with anyone. We don’t have a land line here. I’ve got three jobs I’m waiting for call backs on. I’m a clingy girlfriend.
These are all factors in my phone crisis. Tomorrow, I’ll have a new one in my hand, BUT NOT A TOUCH SCREEN. I hate those awful things. I’m leaning towards some sort of blackberry.
There are a ton of stores that sell used ones all over Gwinnett. I sorta looked for one today, but the legitimate phone repair shop place (that buy broken phones, repair, then sell them) was closed. On my way there, I saw an “ELECTRONICS” store in a sleezy looking hispanic strip mall, so I stopped and checked it out.

The Kenny in me did this. Being my father’s daughter, I don’t care about the location or safety when obtaining something. The MC in me was screaming that this was an unsafe area, where I’m bound to get raped/kidnapped. 

I walk inside, and it was mostly, actually all, woofers, tires, rims, and car electronics. I ask some greasy looking fat hispanic (that seemed to work there) if they had cell phones. He told me no, but shouted something in the direction of a cleaner, older looking guy that looked out of place in there.

This guy comes over, and introduces himself as Amil. He owned the place, and talked to me about how he used to sell cellphones, but his employees were stealing them all.
“It’s easy to slip out with one of those, versus a rim or woofer.”

He said his sister owned a cell phone place somewhere. He gave me her number and name, and even said I could get a discount. He then offered me a job!

The Kenny instinct in me wins again. I won’t be going to that cellphone place, because I have no phone to call the number.
I’ll probably go back to Gwinnett and go to a couple place I know will have them.

I can pick up my pillows there too!

I’ll have to say, one of my favorite parts of this college-relationship this is having Will spend the night. Him having to leave before would almost ruin the night for me, because I never felt like I had enough of him. Ripping away that warm, comfortable, and secure feeling while you’re about to fall asleep is awful.
Now he can stay here!

Even then, I slept terribly last night. Adjusting to another body in your bed is strange.

I’m overthinking it, though. Does he not want me touching him? Where should I put my hands/head/legs? Am I moving around to much? What if I’m keeping him up? Now I’ve got to worry about my wind tunnel breathing.

Of course, he can just roll over and not even think about it. I’ve got to admire his simple approach to things.

It sucks being stuck between to worlds. Everything I want is at Tech, all the socializing, the fun, the opportunity. The weekends are great, but I still don’t belong, I still can’t be involved like I want to. I’m an outsider. I’m riding on the coat tails of my friends that are there.

And I hate being that dependent on them. Not only do I feel like a burden, but I can’t go out on my own. There’s no comfortable place for me to be by myself, and I don’t have any of my “own” friends to socialize with there. I have no motivation to try an involve myself at State. That doesn’t feel like a real school to me.

These last three weekends have been a blast, particularly this past Saturday. Now this weekend is coming up, and Juli and Will are going on a retreat with an organization that sounds like a dream come true. I can’t be part of any of it, and now I’m left alone. I can’t conquer Tech by myself! Without Juli or Will, my only legitimate reasons for being on that campus, I’m a loser. Besides, you don’t party alone.

Yes, I’m whining about it, but I’m aware there’s nothing I can do. I’m stuck in this little subworld for a year and a half. I’m jealous and I feel like such an idiot. I was going into the college world just wanting to get out, and I’ve set myself up to be miserable.

This is partly why I wanted to find a new job with people my age, so that I can make an independent social life, where I will belong to a particular group. I hate feeling like some… exchange student, temporary and out of place. Hopefully, Tacomac will provide some girls to hang out with.

There’s all this waiting to do. I’m bursting at the seams, but there’s a time for everything and I’ll need make sure it’s right for my involvement.

I will never bring it up again, I promise.

You can decide when it’s time to talk.