Oh Goodness!

I just got an email from a girl I worked with at the video store, and it reminded me of a most memorable experience I had while I worked there. Memorable in a way that I could never forget, not that it was wonderful or anything...

It was a Tuesday evening, and I was working with a new girl. A girl who used to work there, we'll call her Ashley, came in, said hi, and then went to go browse around. Another person came in, a not too bad looking guy, in his early to mid twenties. He headed for the "adult room" and I left him to his own devices, as I stayed out of that part of the store as much as possible.

Not too long after, he came to the front counter.

"Do you have, ahem, "Fuck my ass 'til I cum 4"?

"I'm sorry?"

"Uh, I said, do you have "Fuck my ass 'til I cum 4?"

"Grrk (small choke from swallowing a giggle) I'll have to look it up for you...No, sorry we don't have that."

"How about Anal Pleasures 2?"

"Pardon?"

"How about Anal Pleasures 2?"

"Grrk...nope sorry."

"Dammit, doesn't anyone carry good porn in this town?"

That last sentance being uttered loudly for Ashley's benefit, as she came toward the counter. She simply giggled, and said hi. They had a small conversation, much to the point of, hey, how's it going, I'm good, see ya. And he left he store.

She put her movies on the counter, and said,

"I can't believe you did that all with a straight face and without laughing!"

At which point both of us burst into unrestrained giggles.

"I know!"

"He's a bit of an ass freak. I know from experience. But he's not very good" She whispered confidentially.

TMI!!! TMI!! I did not need to know that!!!

"Grrk. Oh. Well, I have your movies ready for you over by the door..."

At which point she left the store, walked up to his window, chatted him up for a minute, AND THEN GOT INTO HIS TRUCK AND LEFT WITH HIM!!

Again, I succumbed to hysterical laughter, and nearly fell onto the floor! The new girl looked at me like I had gone completely off my rocker, at which point I had to tell her the story. I think we laughed about it on and off for the rest of the night.

Ah, the hilarity of working retail...I just could not resist sharing the story. Anytime I had a bad day at the movie store, I used to tell myself the story again. And then people would look at me like I was crazy, because I would be walking around, putting movies away, giggle uncontrollably to myself.

Oh well, they all think I'm nuts anyway, might as well let them keep their little romantic notions...

Drunken Disaster

As many of you know, I am not much of a drinker. But last week Saturday was an entirely different story. I have never been so drunk in my life. Not that I am proud of it, mind you, it is just how it happened.

I went to a movie with K and then headed over to Boston Pizza to meet A and her friends from Holland for drinks. They were really nice. The guy, I think his name was Rudy, had his hair in this mini mohawk kind of style. I was very much in love with his hair. Hot! He, of course, had come to visit Canada with his girlfriend, whose name escapes me. I did like her though. I think it was hard to pronounce, so it kind of went out the other ear, if you know what I mean.

I had a purple rain and a water, and was thinking about quitting when A pipes up.
"I think we should go to the bar."
We all thought this was a great idea, and so we piled into her car (well, actually her boyfriend's extra car, as hers was in the shop).

On our way there, just over half way, the car starts overheating. I have had much experience with this, as my car is a piece of shit. So we pull into a hotel parking lot, and get some water from the bathroom there. Now of course, this not being her car, we don't know how to get the hood open. Simple, you might think. All cars are the same with slight variations. Not so with this car. No. Not at all. This car is old. And broken. You need a pair of pliers to yank a wire, someone has to bang on the hood at the same time, while trying to pulll something under the hood as well. Dangerous business actually. And, of course, since you need pliers to yank the wire, there should be pliers in the car right? Since A's boyfriend knows that's the only way you can open it. No. No pliers. And of course, the hotel maintenance staff is gone for the night, and the girl behind the counter does not have a key to the maintenance room. So we have no pliers. K finds a pair of tweezers in her purse, and Rudy, by wrapping the wire around the tweezers and then pulling, manages to do his part. A and K do their part by banging and pulling the hood, to get it to open. So we pour the water in, and are on our way.

So we finally get to the bar, after 1 am already, due to the lovely car. Of course, none of us have much cash with us, so we head to the debit machine. Not working. So we walk to the gas station. Not working. Not a single debit machine in the entire freakin' city was working on a Saturday night. Something about the banks uploading their systems. What the hell!? I pull out all my money, which is about 4.25 in change. K has a 20 and change, A has a 20, and so does Rudy, along with a bunch of euros, which no one is going to take, and his girlfriend had given all her cash to Rudy before we left. So for 5 people, we have about 70 bucks. Whoopee. And they raised the drink prices again.

Never the less, we head back inside the bar, and begin to party it up. Dancing, drinking, and in general, having a blast! Seemed like every time Rudy went to get a drink, he would bring one back for all of us. (Except A, she was driving.) I think, in total, I only had 4 coolers, but at the time, it seemed like much more. Mind you, we were only in the bar for about 2 hours, so that might have had something to do with it. Now normally, I drink a lot of water when I go out, for the sole purpose of not being sick the next day. I don't know why, but I did not that night. Do I ever wish I had now!

I ended up dancing with this guy, I think I remember his name, I have seen and hung out with him before, a different time, he is dutch too, but I can't seem to remember it at the moment. Not that it really matters. We were dancing, which he was quite good at really. And then, somehow, I don't really know how, I don't remember thinking about it, or anything, we just kinda, well, ended up kissing. Right there. In the middle of the dance floor. Right in front of his friends. And mine. And the people visiting from Holland. I was embarassed. But not too embarassed. He was a damn good kisser. Anyway, his friends came to get him soon after, as they were leaving. Since it was already after last call, we decided to header too. Not that I could really walk...

I had my window open in the car, because I was starting to feel quite dizzy. But I thought I was still okay. I made it all the way to our town. And almost to my house. The block before, the dutch girl tapped A on the shoulder and said maybe she should stop, I looked like I was going to be sick. I replied, no we are almost there, I'll be okay. So she kept going. And then stopped at the four way stop 1 house down from mine, and I knew I could not wait. I opened my door, leaned out, and lost it. And lost it. And lost it. Seemed like it would never stop!

I felt better immediatly. K opened my door for me, because I did not have the hand-eye coordination left to open my own door. I stumbled down my stairs, to the bathroom, and then to bed. I thought I would pass out immediately, but it was not to be so. The room would not stop spinning, so I went and laid on my bathroom floor. Let me clarify this for you. I was hot. Like roasting hot. And the only place in my apartment that does not have carpet is the bathroom. It's lino. And it was nice and cool. I laid there for about half an hour, and then stumbled back to bed.

I woke up at 7, when my alarm went off, intended to wake me up for church. I didn't think God would appreciate me showing up in his house still drunk, so I took an advil and went back to bed, hoping to avoid a hangover. I suceeded! I can still say that I have never had a hangover. I can no longer say that I have not puked from drinking.

Although I seriously wish I could.

I was so embarassed. Hi friends. Hi friends of friend. I am really not a slut, despite making out with some random guy on the dance floor. I am not a horrible drunk, despite not being able to walk and ralphing out the side of a car. I almost wish I could erase the whole night.

But the kiss was really good.

DUCK!!!

So what would you think if you saw a massive duck come flying toward your winsheild?

I can tell you what I thought, all in the space of about 3 seconds. (Only took that long for it to actually hit...)

Oh shit!

What the f*ck?!

What if it breaks my winsheild?

Oh SHIT!

DUCK!

And of course, the involuntary reflex action of, well, DUCK! And a slight swerve. And then:

Shit!

What do I do?

Do I leave it laying on the other side of the highway? Do I stop and go look? Do I just keep driving?

What if it is hurt? But ducks are mean. They peck you when they are mad. And I just hit this one. Hell, if I were him, I'd be pissed. Of course I am not stupid enough to fly into a moving car. Especially one that is going fast.

Shit. What do I do? Just keep going. Take a deep breath. Call someone. You are okay. Whew.

I can't believe I hit a f*ckin duck!

So I called Hayley. She calmed me down. And I kept driving. And when I stopped for gas, I had to pull duck feathers out of my weather stripping. No cracks or dents in my car though. I guess I was lucky. Can't really say the same for the duck.

Allo!

Hey all, here I am again.

And they all, screaming at the top of their lungs, head for the hills!

Just kidding. Anyway. I had a few lovely days off. Aside from the horrifying, shit-my-pants-in-terror math test that I had to write, it was wonderul.

I took a leisurely drive down home (and by leisurely, I mean driving faster and faster to see if I can beat the last trip's time...) that was Friday night. I also got to visit with my wonderful friend Hales Friday night as well. We had a wonderful talk, and I think life is good on both fronts for both of us, after a bit of a shaky patch for me, and a short hell-on-earth for her. I'm so glad we got to catch up, and I can't wait until we can hang out more than once every 2 months or so. Oh well. Soon enough I suppose.

Saturday morning, I took my little sister and her friend with me to visit one of the ladies I used to work with. We had a great time, just sitting on her patio, chatting, and somehow ending up in a water fight. Which was much appreciated, since it was some 30+ degrees outside. From there, we headed to the mall, where I bought a couple of t-shirts, and of course, lunch for all three of us, my treat. (Like 15 year old girls have any money, let's face it.) Saturday afternoon, I studied for that horrid math test with my brother. He is smarter than he gives himself credit for. My mom and I went shopping (just a quick jaunt into town). I had to buy a new bathing suit. Goodness! There is nothing worse than having to do that, especially when it is busy. I swear, they design dressing room mirrors to give you the worst possible view of yourself. Harsh lighting, atrocious wall color, and last but not least, mirrors that dont forgive any flaw. (I much prefer my mirror at home. It is forgiving!) Oh well. I did buy one. Still not entirely sure that I like it, but hey, such is life right?

Sunday I went to church with my family (it felt like forever since I had been to church, eh hem). Did absolutely nothing but laze around until after supper. I helped them all pack up the camper, so they could leave for camping. I, of course, had to stay behind, and face the malicious math monster on my own. Yikes!

Monday morning, I drove to the college, and prepped myself. Mainly, had a cigarette, took deep breaths, and tried really hard not to wet myself. I went into the testing center, presented my ID, and was given a short 20 question "locator" test. Locate what? My brain? I can tell you right now, it's not here. It deserted me some time over night. Probably went for the hunk in my dream and left me here alone to face this. Then they gave me a 54 question, multiple choice nightmare. I was not sure how I did, and I will find out Friday at lunchtime. Good grief, how do they expect you to wait that long? Seriously.

Anyway. After the math test, I drove out to the campground, and spent the next 3 days doing nothing but eating, sleeping, playing with my nephews and adopted neices and nephews, reading books, playing card games, and in general having a wonderful time! Relax, relax, relax. It was fabulous. I cried when I left. It was serious heartbreak. I did not want to come home and get back to work. But oh well. Here I am. And much better off now that I had a bit of a break!

Edit! This post did not post right away when it was supposed to. Stupid blogger. I started writing this last Thursay morning, it now being Monday. Oh well, at least it did not eat my post. That would have bit the big one!

People are People

For some strange reason or another this is weighing on my mind today. Maybe it is because I got asked to work an extra weekend with my handicapped lady, but no matter the reason, I felt like putting down my thoughts.

The lady I work with has cerebral palsy. She is not mentally handicapped. Slightly crazy, but hey, that's why we get along so well!

Cerebral palsy is defined as: a disability resulting from damage to the brain before, during, or shortly after birth and outwardly manifested by muscular incoordination and speech disturbances.

That's all it is. She has trouble with moving around, and she cannot speak clearly, the way you or I could. Because she is in a wheel chair, and talks funny, people assume she is deficient, and insist on talking to her like she is 3 years old. She gets annoyed at this, and so do I. People are people. You treat them like people. No one should be treated any different than anyone else, no matter of size, shape, color, or mental capabilities. That has always been my stand point, and it is not likely to change in this lifetime. Or any other lifetime.

One of my mom's sisters is mentally handicapped. She would still come camping with us every year, came to every family event, and in general, was just one of the family. She still is. We kids liked her because she never yelled at us, was willing to sit and color with us, and had no qualms about sitting down to watch a Disney movie. Preferably Cinderella - it's her favorite. No one in my entire extended family ever treated her any different than anyone else. We don't talk to her like she is a little kid. We don't make decisions for her. She is her own person and can make choices for herself. She has far more intelligence than people give her credit for, and understands everything you say. There is no need to treat her any different, and we would never dream of it.

It could be that I am more comfortable with handicapped people because I grew up around it, and it was never seen as anything different. I don't know. I would like to think that I am just a rational, thoughtful person, and treat everyone as an equal. It just makes me very annoyed when other people are not the same. I suppose I should be more forgiving, not everyone grew up as I did. Not everyone has been taught the same values and morals. But at the same time, common sense says, no shouts: PEOPLE ARE PEOPLE. Treat them as such. There is no need to be condescending or degrading. No need for snide comments, askew glances, and cruel snickers. Totally unecessary. It doesn't matter if someone is a little different. It doesn't matter is someone is a lot different. We have all been created unique, and we should view that as a wonderful thing! Our differences teach others as well. I really don't understand how that can be viewed as a bad thing.

Anyway, I guess point I am trying to make is that I love it when people automatically treat her as normal. We went to a housewarming party last weekend, because I was working with her. Everyone there was completely awesome. And she has a better time as well, because she does not feel self-concious in any way. We had a splendid time. Really quite swell! (A little overboard with the ancient vernacular. Sorry.)

Love is what makes the difference I think. Spread love. Love will spread acceptance. Acceptance will spread tolerance. Tolerance will spread love. Endless cycle of love. Sounds good, doesn't it?

5 Things I Like About Me Today!

1. I'm damn hot.
2. Love my short haircut!
3. Pretty pedicured feet.
4. Awesome smile.
5.Wearing Pink and feeling good!

Should I feel bad?

Last night was not quite my best night ever. I went straight to work from work, as usual. Only thing is, everyone at the movie store was quite grouchy. The first thing that I heard when I got there was a litany of my incompetence according to the assistant manager. She, being newly promoted, was just on a power trip, I'm sure. However... I'm not one to take unfounded criticism well.

I should learn to smile, nod, and keep my big mouth shut. Instead, my brain cannot seem to stop the synapses from firing, and the verbal diarrhea from coming out of my mouth. Last week had been one of our busiest weeks (kids just out of school for the summer, and all that), I had a broken arm (cut me a little slack for that one?), I was training someone new (still being new myself). To me, these are reasonable reasons for the minor (and I do mean minor) things that had happened last week.

She, of course, immediately went on the offensive, and told me that she could put me on a RAD (something to do with disciplining...) for even saying anything. I turned around, and walked away. Perhaps not the smartest thing one could do, you might be thinking. At that moment, however, I had no other options. If I had not, I have a very strong feeling I would have been fired on the spot.

I'm tired. I work 3 jobs, and I nearly quit last night, due to a few people with attitude problems from lack of sleep (myself included). I was so close to telling her where to go and how to get there. And then walk out. Well, at least, knowingly remove myself from the option of ever working there again. I'm still debating on whether or not I even want to show up for work tonight.

Suprisingly, I really don't give a damn. I always work hard, and I feel horrible when I am not giving 100% on the job. I hate the idea of someone thinking I am a poor employee. I know my worth in the workplace, and damn, I'm good. But apparently good is not good enough, and I am already too overworked to try and put anymore effort into it. The sad thing is that my other jobs are suffering because of the movie store. Which could very well be the reason that I could care less if I never showed up for work again.

So should I feel bad? Maybe. But I really don't.

Beauty

This morning, I got up, took a shower, did my hair and makeup, got dressed, you know, the usual. But there is a difference today. I feel beautiful. I look beautiful. It got me thinking. Who sets this standard of what is beautiful and what is not?

Why should I let someone else tell me if I am beautiful or not. If I think it is so, then it is. According to some ancient "wisdom", Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Pardon my language, but I call bullshit. People have been telling us what beautiful is for centuries. No wonder the human race is so screwed up.

Every person on this planet would grow up with a healthy idea of what they, themselves think of beauty, if society would not interfere. I truly believe this. No one telling you what they think of so and so, and how about that person over there? No more magazines saying, wow, look, this celebrity got fat, and this one lost too much weight. Personally, if we would stay out of their lives, I think Hollywood would be that much healthier in terms of body image.

But forget about Hollywood. Forget about the media. Let's talk about me. (I wanna talk about me, wanna talk about, I wanna talk about #1, oh my me my - Sorry, could not resist the Toby Keith reference. Funny guy) I have a low self image on most days. I worry about what people think of me in this shirt, what about that skirt, can I hide my little tummy? What about my legs? How much of them can I show? All that kind of crap. And that's really all it is. Crap. Bull shit. Worth nothing!

I used to cover up everything. No sleeves shorter than 3/4, no shorts, capris had to reach at least mid-calf. A couple of weeks ago, my mom came to visit me. She is a short, loving, awesome, somewhat round person. (I look like her, only 6 inches taller...I'm a little more spread out.) She was wearing shorts, and a tank top. Nothing really skimpy, we don't really go for that, thick straps are the thing. (Plus we need to cover up the monstrous straps to the major support bras holding up our "girls".) Anyway, back to the point. She looked nice. She always looks nice. Clean, neat, tanned from being outside all the time. Her arms were showing, and so were her legs. She doesn't care. My dad doesn't care, he still loves her. None of us kids ever cared, and I don't remember any of our friends ever commenting, "Wow, your mom should not wear shorts." No one. She does not even think it herself. So why did I think it of myself? Mental defect from years of self punishment, I guess.

So I started wearing sleeveless tops. Pretty much every day, actually. (You should see how tanned my arms are getting!) I have one pair of shorts, that I wear around the yard...I would wear them in public, but they are kind of ripped in a lot of places, and look a little like Daisy Dukes. Of course, I don't look like Daisy Duke in them, but that's besides the point. I have a pair of shorts, and I wear them. I have been looking for more shorts, not that I have had much time to shop, and while I am no longer afraid of my legs, I don't really want them to look like sausages. I may had gotten a little sidetracked again, but the point is this: I am showing a little skin, and I am not afraid of it! I don't feel ugly, I don't feel fat. I feel good.

I may not be a size 2, or even a size 12, but hey, I feel pretty damn good. I look pretty damn good. And nothing has changed. I am still the same size as last summer. Apparently, it was all in my head. Does this suprise me? No. Am I going to be rid of my negative thinking forever? Of course not, don't be stupid. I'm human. But I am going to be able to give myself that hypothetical kick in the ass. (Hypothetical, because really, who can bend like that? Seriously!)

I look damn good. I feel damn good. I am my own idea of beauty today. It's a good change.

Paix - en Francais

J'avais l'habitude de détester ma vie. Maintenant que j'ai la direction, je suis plus heureux. Je suis si heureux je me suis donné que coup-de-pied dans l'Ass. Et cela j'ai de tels amis merveilleux qui sont concession de support. Merci Dieu ! Merci de la paix de l'esprit. Paix de coeur. Paix d'âme. Merci.

Peace

Sorry about the absense guys. Its been a little hard to type, and since the pain is pretty much all the way gone, it is not such a hardship anymore. Although the brace still gets in the way, but hey, if I start getting bogged down by perfectionism now, no one will ever see this post, and I would have to delete my entire blog, and I'm just not willing to go that route.

So I have been working a lot lately. Too much. And I was starting to get pretty depressed. I was always sooo excited to see my family, or any of my friends from down south. Or when I would go and visit, I would be literally giddy with joy on the drive down. But the last day...the day I had to go home, I would be in the worst mood possible. Wanting to drive my car straight, even though the road curves. Just keep on going and see what happens... Not a good thing. Or the day that people were leaving, having this insane wish to throw myself at their feet and beg them to take me with them.

And then I started to be angry all the time. Always mad that no one could tell I was unhappy. Of course I was trying to hide it, I think every depressed person does, but still. The people closest to me should have been able to tell. Some glimpse of despair must have shone through. Some one should have known that I was unhappy. Depressed. Wanting. Something. Anything. I have to keep reminding myself that no one could have known. I have become very good at hiding it. Something may have poked through for a moment, but if I refused to acknowledge it, people would move on! Still, try to reconcile that with a moody bitch of a brain.

Finally I went to the doctor. I described what was going on. Yes, I work a lot, but when I am not at work, all I want to do is sleep. No, I have not really been eating. Sudden mood changes? Oh yeah. Not wanting to do my work at work? I guess that is true as well. Would you like a prescription to this medication?

Instant flashback to my first 2 years of high school. 2 years of living hell. Walking through life in a haze. Feeling nothing. Not happy, not sad, not angry, just numb. Taking myself off them because I wanted to live a real life, not some imitation of it. Do I want the drugs? No. In all reality, I don't.

He strongly cautioned me, saying that something has to change then, or these feelings are going to get worse. I promised to be careful, do some serious soul searching, and come back to him if things still were not going well in a couple of weeks. I seriously doubt that he ever expected to see me again.

But I did as I had promised. I searched my soul. Asked myself what I wanted. Is there something in my life that I am unhappy with? What would make me happier? I made a list. Anything that popped into my head. Everything that I could think of. Took me a few hours. I had 2 pages of things. And then I started crossing off the unimportant things. The ones I could deal with. And left the ones I knew were absolutely essential to change or I would have to take the drugs, which I desperately did not want to do.

1. I want to go back to school.
2. I miss home.
3. I don't mind my job, but I don't really love it.
4. I am not happy with my living situation.

So there I had it. These were the things that I needed to consider.

1. I was planning to take some night courses, to get my upgrading done, so that I could go back to school. But when I really thought about it, I'm afraid. If I am working more than full time, and I am trying to take these courses, I won't be putting my full attention to them, so what if I fail? Then I will have to start all over again, and be that much farther away from starting my nursing course. So what is the answer? Find something that is less stressful, somewhere I don't have to work as much, so I have time to concentrate.

2. I really am homesick. Not homesick in the way that most people would think of it. Not, oh goodness, I can't live without my mommy. That's not it. Not that I don't miss my family. I do. But I do see them quite often, and I am not paralyzed by the absense of my family. I miss the familiarity. Going into Wal-mart on a Saturday, and running into 15 people that I know. Someone giving me their address, and the general area, and me being able to find it no problem. Being able to call a friend when I am bored and say, hey girl, let's go see a movie, go for a walk, have coffee, etc. All things that I can't do here. I have been here for 6 months. Made no real friends. Still have no clue where almost anything is. I hate that. I might as well have come from the moon. Solution? Go back. Go home.

3. As I said, I don't mind my job. And I come everyday. But it is not the reason I get up in the morning. It's just that, well, I don't even know if I can explain it. At the beginning, I reorganized the office. Everything was spotless. I made changes, good changes. I liked my clean desk, my job, everything. A pay raise was hinted at. Of course, this pay raise never materialized. No one cared that it was nice and clean and organized. So I stopped caring. I do what I have to. Nothing more. Nothing less. I feel bad about it, because it is not like me to not give 110% on the job. I don't like feeling this way. But I can't seem to pull myself out of this rut. I want to be that perky receptionist from the beginning. I want to keep cleaning and organizing. So everyone can see how awesome I am. But I just don't care enough to do it. I should not be here. They deserve better. Someone who wants to be here everyday. Someone like I was at the beginning. Someone who will make this office a better place.

4. I want to live in a place that I don't avoid coming home to. Somewhere that I can come home, and cook, and eat, and clean after myself, without all the resentment of having to deal with someone else's shit before I can deal with my own. Somewhere that my tv is MY tv. Where I can cook when someone else is cooking, because who cares if 2 people are using the stove. Somewhere that I can do laundry without having to fold the load in the dryer, and empty the lint screen from 300 dryer loads, and sarcastically wonder nothing ever gets dry, and we need to change the dryer hose every month. Where I don't have to wipe up the piss from all over the bathroom floor because someone does not know how to aim. (God, it comes away from your body. You can hold it with both hands if necessary. How hard can it be? Seriously!) Where the meaning of clean dishes means sparkly and spotless, not smeared, smudged, and flakes leftover.

Once I had all that out, it was clear to me. Do I want to stay here? Or do I want to go home. Will I be happier here if I change these things? The resounding answer was NO. GO HOME. And that was it.

Complete feeling of peace. Utter and total bliss. No more depressing thoughts. No more stress. Go home. Home. Home. Home. The word fills me with joy. I am happy. Like I have not been happy in a long time. And I knew. I need this. Home. Peace. Peace of mind. Peace of heart. Peace of soul. Peace.

So I started making plans. I made an appointment at the college back home. I met with a student advisor. I met with someone in charge of scholarships and bursaries. I registered. I made an appointment for (YUCK!!) math testing. (They need to see what level I am at because it has been awhile since I took math.) I have a phone appointment, so we can discuss my scores, and put me in the right courses. I talked to my mom and dad. They will let me live with them for free until they move in January. I can save money for school. I can pay off a few more bills. They don't mind. I am so glad. It will be weird to live with them again, but I can handle it for 4 months. I told my boss. I let her know I was homesick and that I wanted to go back to school with no distractions. She took it very well. I don't think she was suprised. She knew something was wrong. The other 2 places that I work know I am leaving, they just don't know when. My room mate knows I am going, he was not really suprised either. He seemed okay with it. No big blow up, nothing like I was expecting. Maybe people saw more than I thought.

Now that all this is in place, I feel so much better. No drugs needed. I am excited. I want the time to be up already. Still 8 more weeks. Can I do it? Yep. I can, and I will. Because there is now a light at the end of the tunnel. I am at peace with the world and myself. There is still a lot of work ahead, because I will have to move (AGAIN!) and train a new receptionist at the office. Packing, cleaning, training, man, I am gonna be tired. But it will be worth it.

Peace out peoples!

~!~Peace~!~