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Happy Birthday, baby! Today you are finally my age again, after 4 long months of waiting. You have already seen the advantage this age difference will give you when we're older, and you get to gloat about how you're 4 months younger than I am. I'm only sorry that you didn't have the best day; I'm sorry we didn't really bother celebrating. Much like we forgot our anniversary, we forgot to bother with today. Don't forget how special you are, and how much I love you. You've been so patient with me lately, and I know I owe you- thanks.
I finally did it- I got drunk. Not just drunk- plastered. Smashed. G O N E. It stared out innocently enough, Dan and Nick (the over 21 one) came over with ample amounts of alcohol. After just as ample steaks and beans, the fun began. It started with a glass of sangria at dinner, then a shot of vodka. Soon it was 4 shots in Captain's, all of the above in about an hour. After they video-taped me attempting to say my ABC's backwards, amongst other embarrassing things, I drained myself over the toilet for an hour. It was…an experience.
I woke up a little woozy but feeling fine overall. I went out to the family room to find that Nick had left, and began to pick up his cushions and blankets. Kyle came out and we took pictures of Daniel struggling to fight us off of his covers. We spent the day fooling around, then Kyle and mom and I had dinner with old friends of the family. Then we met Dan and Matt and went to Sean's house to hang out and be social. It was a nice day, especially considering that I didn't even have a hangover.
Mom was upset today, because no matter how insignificant a holiday may've been to our family, it's suddenly amplified in my dad's absence. I told her I wasn't even watching fireworks because Kyle was going to be at work and I had about 60 muscles to memorize. However, about the time I settled in to rote away, I heard a noise in the kitchen. Kyle was home early, complete with a rose, card, and 2 glasses of the sangria we'd cracked the other night. Considering the sudden recurrence of my sex drive, it's no surprise I never finished my muscles.
Who would've thought that I was so addicted to carbs? I started my Curves diet today, and I'm only allowed 20 carbs a day for 2 weeks; this is phase I of the plan. During phase II I get 60 carbs a day, and it lasts for 4-6 weeks. After that it's all about maintenance, and I only have to go back to 20 carbs a day if I gain weight. Today would not have been so hard had Kyle not decided to bring home buttermilk biscuits and eat them in front of me. Bloody bastard- I'll get him back.
I can make anyone laugh.
I love to clean.
I couldn't live without the smell of new books.
I'm a bored eater.
I spend money as soon as I have it.
I think women are much more attractive then men.
I'm in love with a man.
I've cheated, in every sense of the word.
I'm a huge procrastinator.
I'm annihilated after 6 shots.
I've struggled with weight all my life.
I live for my best friend, my boyfriend, and my mom.
I cry a lot.
I miss my dad.
I love country and rap.
We went on the great furniture hunt today, which began and ended at Haverty's. I wanted to look at a bedset I'd found online, and I loved it even more than I had online. After the saleslady stalked us (whilst pretending not to) for an hour, we started making our selections. We walked out of the store with an order for my bedset, a dining set, and a full living room. The best part is that delivery and set-up is free no matter how much you buy. I feel sorry for those delivery guys. Lemonade and tips will be provided.
When I go into a test, I know before hand whether I'll do well or not. Tuesday, for the first time in my life, I failed a test I walked out of the room feeling confident about. I got my 59 back today, and I almost asked if it wasn't my test. I thought I'd earned a B. I had not.
So, I'm putting some things in perspective right now. After my talk with Abby tonight, I began mulling over the whole marriage statistical crap. Hopefully someday I'll be older and more confident and not always in a fucking rut.
I went to the nursing information session because I could make an appointment with a counselor, and I hoped getting my face and passion in their heads could help. There were only a few people there, and the lady droned about pre-requisites as I struggled to listen to what I already knew. Then she said the five words that ruined my day, and possibly my graduation date- "All we consider is GPA."
No recommendation letters, no volunteer hours, no job experience, no hope. Below a 3.0 won't be considered. Below a 3.5 probably won't make it.
I have a 3.2.
Five Reason I'm so ready to get out of Avalon Heights:
1. Our AC has been broken for three days. It's NINETY DEGREES in our apartment.
2. We're no longer allowed to have overnight guests. Not that we're following that rule or that they're enforcing it, but the fact that they made it stupid.
3. The elevator still smells like fresh piss.
4. I'm so over white walls, hard mattresses, and every damn drain in the apartment being clogged.
5. I want pets- we will/do have three fish, 2 cats, a tarantula, hopefully a snake, and maybe a guinea pig.
All we could hear besides each other was the sound of the oars slapping the water, and the whoosh of them pulling back up. We went around a few bends and down a few alcoves, wanting to temp fate but being too afraid we'd tip the canoe. So instead we chatted and rowed, wishing that we could spend the whole night together this way. After being out long enough to make my muscles sufficiently sore, we turned in the boat and spent the evening cuddling until he had to leave.
It will be so much better when he lives here.
As if they knew how anxious Kyle, my mom, and I were, and really wanted to perpetuate it, Quest forgot to freeze one of my blood samples that needed to be frozen. So I had to get my blood drawn again today. Now,
don't mind needles, but my veins certainly seem to hate them. They won't be accounted for when the time comes to insert the needle, and even if they are, they collapse immediately upon insertion. So removing blood from my body is difficult. Always has been.
But, I went today. We need to know. Just in case.
I had more fun in lab today than I had all summer. We did sensory and reflex tests, which basically means we got to make people smell funny things and do painful things and flex their muscles. Warren, the very built and equally hot token black guy of our group kept making me smell ginger (which I hate), but Rebecca and I paid him back by making him do the muscle flex tests several times. No guy in the class could hold his fingers in ice water for 2 minutes. All the girls could- this is why we give birth.
There are certain activities that make me feel validated as a person. Cleaning is one of them. I can't explain this; I'm sure it's some sort of sexist inbreeding that will cause me therapy later in life. But when I pick up a dust rag and bottle of 409, I feel like I can conquer anything. I live in a perfectly organized and usually spotless apartment, and my laundry is always done.
I try to manipulate this into studying, so I really could validate myself and, furthermore, make something of myself. How does one attain that magna cum laude ethic?
After taking my last regular exam in A&P, the test that guaranteed my non-A, I needed a little cheering-up. I called Kyle and told him I hadn't gotten the grade I'd needed, and he said, "Well I'm mad at you! I'm going to turn around right now and not come over!" I grinned widely; I didn't know he had planned on coming over again this weekend. Nearing the end of the I-4 stretch, he laughed and said he'd be there soon. He showed up a few minutes after I got home from class- just in time to make my day.
I'd forgotten about getting my blood drawn Monday, probably because this week was busy. While in conversation with mom it hit me, and I asked if she'd checked on my test results yet. She said she was going to this afternoon, and several hours later there was a message on my phone to call her.
Every test was negative. She sounded excited, and I just sighed with relief. I told Kyle later and he smiled and hugged me, looking relieved himself. The bad news is that I'm so tired because I'm so out-of-shape. But that is much batter bad news.
We stayed out on the river for 2 hours today. Neither of us ever broke a sweat because it was too pretty a day to paddle fast. There was considerably more foliage than last weekend, and we spent the afternoon pointing out flowers and creatures to each other. We laughed when a squirrel missed it's branch and plummeted into the water, then surfaced looking very confused. When dragonflies became flying alligators and lily roots became snakes, we knew we'd found our perfect date. Later, sitting in A&W freezing in our wet shorts, I looked across the table and just knew.
The move seemed far away, partly because it was so suddenly planned and partly because this summer has been so long. But as I Kyle and mom and I transferred the seemingly endless supply of boxes from my mom's car to mine, it hit me. I'm moving in 12 days! This will my first real place on my own, the first place I can use as a "permanent address." I'm even changing my license. I'm painting and tiling and carpeting, all on my own. With the help of a lot of saved money on my parent's part, I'm moving in.
I got so caught up in my linens from _The Company Store_ that I didn't realized I'd tallied over 600 dollars. I gawked at the computer screen before hitting cancel and starting over. I still spent $450.45, but $100 was on a gorgeous thick cotton blanket that will be returned if it's not as soft as it looks. In the end, it seemed a lot of money for a white down comforter and 220 thread-count cornflower blue sheets and shams. I didn't realize how spoiled I am until I realized that I hardly blinked at what most people would faint.
Today was the last day of Anatomy and Physiology I Lab, the class which nearly caused irreparable damage to my GPA and my college schedule. The last test was today, and correctly identified enough parts of a cow brain and eyeball to pass the class. I have not almost failed anything (and by failed I mean a D) since I began this endeavor at USF, and I scared myself with how close I came this time. The memorization was overwhelming in only 10 weeks, especially combined with all my other classes. I'm so glad that this semester is almost over.
I got a 94 on the first A&P test, much to my surprise and delight. I remember thinking, after hearing the low class average, "I've got this class." When I didn't study enough for the second test and got a 79, I considered it my dropped grade. Then I failed a test, and even with the 18 point curve it was still a low C. The forth test, my last chance to redeem my A before the final, left me with some unremarkable low B. So I didn't study today, because either way I'll get a B. Welcome back, mediocrity.
Though I'm still not crazy about Gainesville (and I really hate their traffic lights), seeing Abby is always worth the drive. The good things about this trip were the ever-delicious fried katsu, the hours of girl talk (including, but not limited to: boyfriends, St. Mary's, high school, politics, sex), Tijuana Flats and their fan-fucking-tastic hot sauces, bubble tea slush, and inappropriate deaf jokes. The bad things were my first fender-bender (stupid deaf girl), and Abby having to get up seemingly minutes after we went to bed. But, as with any good friend, even the bad things can be quite funny.
I hadn't seen David probably since 9th grade. It was weird how comfortable it felt with him there, like he'd been a part of our little group all along. We sat on Nise's futon, the three of us passing the hookah around while Katy politely dealt with the smoke. Scantily clad and chummy, we had a nice night that I wasn't really expecting. Apparently everyone at St. Mary's thought I was a "hardcore diesel dyke," so my being bi didn't surprise David. Music and memories flowed through the room as we relived the best and worst parts of our lives.
Meme and I shared green tea and coffee cake, eating slowly and talking. We talked politics; she said that she wished Bush spent more time worrying about important things than who wants to marry whom. We broached the sex subject, and I all but admitted that I wasn't a virgin anymore. I mentioned the M-word and that Kyle was concerned about saving for a nice ring. She said when we were ready I could have hers. The engagement ring that brought three kids and a 58-years-and-running happy marriage- I couldn't think of a better ring to put on my finger.
We sat in _Sweet Indulgences_, sipping our sodas and chatting. Tired and knowing that our rendezvous would soon end, we all delayed finishing our meals. Katy and David would go back to Brevard, I to my grandparents for a few hours then to Kyle's, and Nise back to the apartment she liked less with only her in it. This sort of thing was habit for us gals, but David said what had crossed all our minds- "If someone had told me four years ago that we'd all be sitting here talking about sex, I'd have told them they were nuts."
I never thought I'd be able to admit it to mom, especially after all the praise she'd been giving me this past year. "I'm mediocre," I told her, and the tears I was fighting seeped loose. "Everything I do is mediocre- my grades, my ‘efforts' to lose weight and be healthier, my money habits, everything- mediocre. I could be something, really something. The voice of every teacher that's informed me of my wasted potential is echoing through my head." She knew what I needed to hear and said as much, but it didn't help. I wish I knew what would.
My walls are beginning to look as lonesome and barren as they did when I first moved in. I really can't believe it's even been a year- a year of classes not in high school, a year in a new city, a year with new people, a year away from my boyfriend, friends, and family. It's been a pretty good year overall, this first year of college. I've made friends, kept friends, passed all my classes, been drunk once, over-planned my adult life, had a lot of (monogamous) sex, and made a home in Tampa. It can only get better.
You're 17 at home with a stomach virus. What do you do? Call your mom and cry- your stomach aches from the heaving, your mouthwash supply is nearly depleted, and you're too weak to make it to bed. Mom comes, gives you 7-up and medicine, and puts you to bed.
You're 19 at college with a stomach virus. What do you do? Call your mom and cry- your stomach aches from the heaving, your mouthwash supply is nearly depleted, and you're too weak to make it to bed. Mom tells you to go the drugstore. ALL BY YOUR PUKING SELF.
I got a lot accomplished today, especially considering how knocked I was yesterday after sleeping and puking. I picked up my dress from the dry cleaners after like a month. I still don't understand how people can have half their wardrobe dry-clean only crap. I found paint colors for the apartment, and I AM JUST SO EXCITED I almost can't wait to move in and get painting and decorating. It will be a nice change from Avalon, and nice to have kitties again. I have to be comfortable this year, because I really need straight A's to get into nursing.
I totally did not realize how much crap Christi and I had until we started boxing and bubble-wrapping it all. I drove the wonderfully smooth riding 14 foot Uhaul to Avalon, and it took us three hours to pack it up. Luckily, with our nice assembly line streaming up the stairs (Christi and Dan had it worse, as they were the only ones going up and down over and over) it only took about hour to unload. It's been a tiring but still fun day, and I can't wait until everything is clean, painted, filled with furniture, and lived in.
Goodbye, Avalon Heights.
Goodbye, also, to moving boxes upstairs in the rain with Abby, invading Pier One with mom's plastic, doing my first load of laundry as daily living and not as a chore, not having to pay bills, getting tipsy for the first time, finding a friend in one roommate and an enemy in the other, sitting at my desk for hours because freshman have no schedule options, my very first apartment, being an "FTIC" outcast, my stolen Schwinn, my first crazy and wondrous year of college.
Goodbye, and hello.
Hello to my first glimpses of the real world.
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