teethofthehydra

I was nominated for some kind of mysterious award and the ceremony thingie is in an hour. Terrified? Absolutely. I'm not popular enough to receive a real award... in fact, I suspect that I might be sufficiently unpopular to receive some kind of mean insulting joke award. Do those happen? Am I being paranoid?

New summer options.

Go to Key West. Work my old wonderful vegetarian restaurant job. Dance one night a week or so on the side for extra $$. Go scuba diving and kayaking all the goddamn time (*bliss*). See all my old flames (God knows Key West abounds in old flames). Maybe get a position with the City Paper doing copy editing (this position was offered to me a long time ago and I can only imagine it still stands, because they never hired a proper copy editor, those corner-cutters). Have enough flexibility with work to run off with Shayle. Might not make as much money or have such impressive resume material at the end of the summer but I'd be free of all this nonsense.

I don't want to end things with my boy is the only thing. But I realize now that the arrival of summer = time to make a choice: stay or go. And I can't commit. I might be in love with him but I don't want to live with him. Too scary, too weird.

Don't ever date a girl like me: flightly, dubiously bisexual and overanalytical. We're the worst.