calypso

So, yeah...what an eventful weekend.

I didn't get out of work on Friday until about six o'clock. The weekend schedule was so screwed up, I had to stay a little late to try and fix it as much as possible. It was so hectic, and so unnecessarily stupid, it seriously made me consider moving to Philadelphia.

When I worked at See's Candies and Walgreen's, I was happy to pull some overtime, or a double-shift, even. When they asked me to be there, I was there. When they asked me to stay over, I did it, no questions asked. Hello, they were paying me to do it! I worked both jobs at the same time at one point, often working 13+ hours a day.

But, no, these people suck. They're irresponsible and certainly not team players.

I almost want to get fired or something. I don't want to quit, because I don't want to screw these people over. Life in Philly would be good, I think.

Oh, and on the way home, I cried for the first time since moving out. There's this song by Citizen Cope that Michael had introduced me to, it's called "Sideways."

"These feelings won't go away
I keep thinking in a moment that
Time'll take them away
But these feelings won't go away"

That part gets me. I keep thinking of him. It's driving me nuts.

Friday night I saw "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," and I loved it! I hung out with my friend KC for about a half hour afterwards. I smacked him across the face for smoking.

Saturday I didn't do much 'til later that evening. I went up to Ramona to my friend/ex-boyfriend Bryce's house. We ended up going to his friend's house. They went for a dip in the pool, but I just kept my feet in the jacuzzi because of my new tattoo.

Bryce came on to me big-time, and I love him to pieces and care about him a lot, but I'm just not ready for any of that. I continue to think about that douchebag Michael.

Does he think about me? I wonder.

The stupid part of me hopes so.

Yesterday I didn't do much, which was great. Hung around the house, had a couple of naps, watched "Master and Commander," then went over to someone's house for dinner.

Then, long after I meant to be asleep, I got a call from someone. We've known each other for a very long time, and were very much enamoured with one another at one time, for a long time. I haven't seen him much within the past couple of years, save for a little visit in December and a trip to Subway (where he works) about a week ago. It's been hard to feel things out with him, and I can't even begin to imagine how he feels about me as a person.

Here I am, tattooed and getting naked for a website, not to mention full of curse-words and being generally pissed off at the world...and there he is, Mr. Christianity in all his piety. I don't know what to make of the situation.

In one of my journal entries I mentioned something about not having any passion in my life. He sent me an e-mail recalling how I once had that with him. See, when I think of our passion, my mind doesn't revert to the physical aspects of it, surprisingly. I think about how I loved him. How I would have done anything for him. How we clicked on the deepest levels. How it felt to just lay beside him. How I felt helping his mother and sister with Thanksgiving dinner, a feeling of belonging.

And then he says he can't wait to get married. (Not to me, stupid.) Then my heart kind of drops. What if he were to marry someone? It would be some good little Christian girl, most likely a virgin, and most likely someone without all the baggage I've collected over my troublesome lifetime.

Ugh.

I'm starting to believe that Philadelphia is an inevitability.