forget it

still waiting to catch up. brain still knows it. still waiting. defeated by a giggle - that's all she does, that's all she is. one big walking giggle. kevin still picked her over me. this means 1) he is a worthless f*ck without a brain or 2) i need a lobotomy. for caring. both? okay.

never been the man-hating type, but i'm so disappointed with the conversation i had with marc last night, i'm so tempted so say fuck all of them. Just when you think you've stumbled upon a nice, normal guy, he wigs out over a simple question. i favor the direct approach, complete with eye contact when appropriate, but i guess i should keep in mind that "appropriate" is subjective.

i am single. really, truly, fully. regardless of things that don't concern me: i am not going to put up with a person who doesn't know how to intercept and answer a straightforward and pertinent question coming from someone who deserves a simple answer in return. in fact, i'm not going to put up with much anymore. because i don't have to. because i don't want to. no games, no strings, no condescending down-talk from overconfident, judgmental people. no "friendship" on the terms of exes who hope i'm so desperate for their company that i'll put up with the whore they chose over me.

i'd rather be alone.

and i am.

time to embrace it.

he's a worthless f*ck. my brain knows it. just waiting for the rest of me to catch up.

shoppy

Costco:

Saw Mr. Quick, my high school history teacher, at the photo counter. Had him for Modern Asian and Modern European History. Peahen and I worked our asses off both semesters, and almost died when the MAH and MEH course awards went to some birdbrain cheerleader named Nathalie. Mr. Quick was supreme authority on Chinese history and culture. He also rode a bicycle around town and some afternoons he'd coast back into Rogers Hall at the end-of-lunch bell with one pant leg rolled up and a baguette under one arm.

Had to wait an hour for my photos to be burned to a CD (just don't ask why I paid Costco $2.99 to do something I could and should have done myself). Wandered around books for awhile and almost, very nearly, just about ... bought A Million Little Pieces. I looked around furtively before putting it into my cart. It was a "what if tomorrow that entire pallet is empty and copies are going for a thousand bucks on eBay?" moment. I mean, it's got the book club insignia on it. It was also a "shiny cover ... ooh" moment. But then Triathlon Mama and brood appeared and shamed me into putting it back. Actually, I swapped it for a pink von Dutch jacket, which in turn got swapped for a black liz claiborne hoodie that is so much better suited to my age bracket. Other purchases: tea, granola bars, Neutrogena T-gel (another by-product of old age? The worst freakin' dandruff on earth. Okay, I have no idea what age has to do with it - I just like to blame any turn for the worse on old age.) Tri-Mama gave me a box of Tazo Chai. I also replaced my moldy calcium bears with new ones, which I promptly refrigerated. If I never sang the praises of my calcium bears, allow me to do so now: Kirkland calcium sour gummy bears are awesome. They are the tastiest vitamin/supplement I've ever tried. They taste just like candy. Which is probably all they are. But don't rain on my parade ... I can't swallow those brick-sized calcium supplements they make for actual adults.

Because I was talking on the phone in the line, I failed to notice the customer ahead of me purchasing and leaving with my Red Bull and Green Tea. On top of that, I slipped into this horrifying torpor on the drive home ... so although I had been cursing it a few moments before, it was one of the maybe three times I've ever been grateful for my cell phone. I called K, and he talked me home.

And that was my post-work day ...

it could be a verb

live from the coffee bean ... i just got lynne'd. or rather - the years-absent lynne got me'd. HAHAHA. somehow there is humor in this, whereas in ever being called "christine" again, there will be bloodshed.

mental coffee shop

have escaped to the MCS, which is warm and bright and plays not screamo nor new age bubbles but 10,000 maniacs AND ella fitzgerald. yes, i like a little norah jones with my too-hot chai. and if i want to wash it down with gin blossoms, sue. me. the MCS loves natalie merchant and natalie cole, and the half and half is always full. still not sure if i will permit death cab for cutie on the playlist. i'm leaning toward no.

dress code for the MCS is always a gray sweatshirt. since high school, it's been a gray sweatshirt. i came here to think about kanekoa, but back then the MCS was looping "dreamlover" and i was "drinking" an oreo shake. no wonder - there wasn't all that much to think about anyway.

have you ever resolved to care less about something? you'd think the subtraction of effort would make for an easy task, but it's one of the hardest things you can do. you're basically forcing yourself to take away the importance you assigned that thing in the first place. i still think the only way you can do this is to fill that hole with something else. shamisen lessons. start watching "24" and/or "lost." call someone you know you should. write about it. write about writing about it.

i am not good at giving or asking for second chances. i don't even like repeating myself in casual conversation over the phone. i don't think a lot of things deserve, or are worth, a second chance. but follow through is my downfall - sometimes people think they have been given another chance, and because i'm preoccupied or tired or just a little less than positive, i let them think so. and then one day i'm gone ... suddenly, according to them. all along, according to me.

i think someone did this to me once. earliest twenties. on paper he was quite a jerk. i loved him because i could see past it. i loved him because he showed me and no one else what else he could be. i just loved him. i messed up and he left me, but not before he let me think for a solid two months that we were on our way back up. with no warning he kicked me (most gently!) out of the world i was all set to take over with love and determination. and when i say gently, i mean so gently that it took me two-plus years to truly see, to truly believe.

well, that void filled itself. but all these years later i'm still no closer. to what? i guess that's what i'm trying to figure out. yesterday, in front of my mom i said (we were watching lifetime) "fuck marriage!" - but that was tongue-in-cheek, more or less. i like getting a rise out of her. the difference between me in the MCS today and me there 10 years ago is that 10 years ago i liked standing still. ten years ago i knew, though it stung, that kanekoa was nothing and that in my universe i had the keys.

i still have the keys, but where's the freaking door?

a dream i remember from 2002:

we were in france, staying at some sort of hostel along l'avenue du Champs-Elysees (does such a thing exist?). barry, one of Eugene's Brother's brothers, was there, picking up french chicks and drinking pepsi blue, and Eugene's Brother and i were playing some kind of board game in the common room. E's B left to buy an arizona iced tea from a kiosk across the river, and i went for a walk in the other direction. i walked and walked past bridges and riverboats and billboards advertising cheap lodging and textbooks. i realized at some point that i hadn't changed my clothes, or for that matter, showered, since yesterday. i was horrified, so i ran back to the hostel and got in the shower. while i was showering a guy came into the locker room and asked if this was a place he could shower. i said yes, but that he'd have to wait. i was talking to him with my head poking out of the shower curtain when suddenly the rod broke and the curtain tumbled down. he turned to leave, presumably to find a shower that had a functional curtain rod, offering no other comment but "you have a lovely round tummy." i took it as a compliment and finished my shower. as i was getting dressed i decided he was a nice boy and that i should find him and ask him to dinner. naturally it was like finding a needle in a haystack, and i never did locate him in that crazy city ...

fogmire

funny - although my body is screaming in protest at being dragged to work after a sneezy, headachy night, I still feel better than I did all last week. went to CB/TL this morning just to warm up - i don't think starbucks will lose much business to them. one good thing about being here is having my advil on hand. yaay.

so had this dream yesterday about headlights. two other drivers kept signaling that i didn't have mine on. sure enough, when i flicked the switch the lights went on - but i could see just the same as before. also, i had to take both hands off the wheel to turn them on. so by listening to other drivers who were presumably trying to help me be safer, i created a much more dangerous situation for myself, with nothing to show for it.

... and that's all i got. i wish i could dig up something more profound but all i glean is - shut them out, listen to me. could be important.

the week from hell

it really has been, or i wouldn't be blogging from work. i know i shouldn't call it such when little (or grand, actually) things like a glance at the hopkins sky on the short morning drive to work have saved me time and again from going off the deep end. emphasis on the word end.

and about that word. i'm not on the best of terms with it. the last time i tried to end something significant, it was with very good reason. but i was weak and let things seep back in under the closed door until i was happily swimming in an alice-esque pool of tears. okay it wasn't a pool of tears, but that made a nice image. now all i need is a lorry and a white rabbit.

i love k more than i thought i could. i know him better than i thought i would. but in as many ways as being with him has been great, it's been bad for me. he thinks that because he hasn't always gotten his way that i am just fine at saying no to him. i counter: why do i always have to say no about a hundred times, and for the simplest things? why do you expend so much energy making me feel bad for being myself - and by that i mean, needing space instead of coddling when i'm in a bad mood, occasionally needing sleep more than sex ... etc. i am rushing to finish this because i have to face the last day of the week in about two minutes.

the kicker should have been that stupid f'ing party, which was completely within his right to do but since it bothered me so much i should have done something about it THEN. because if i had, and/or if i had stuck to my guns about taking christine out four times in the same week one particularly bad week, we would not be here. i would not be teaching through anxiety attacks. i would not regret leaving my ex for this venture. i would not be wondering what is left, if anything is left, and i would not be standing here with the question of my life: ... will we stay friends? when i ask you to go, will we stay friends?

dumb/ass

omg i just turned my room upside down thinking i lost the grade level's t-shirt money (c. $250), which i wasn't going to report and would have had to swallow because frankly i was a dumbass to leave it in my top drawer when there have been two or three reported thefts within the past couple of months but it turns out i'm only half a dumbass because i actually put it in the bottom locking drawer, not the top drawer, so it was safe all along unless someone wanted steal the keys from around my neck or carry the entire desk out the door and down the stairs.

no promises

blogging on myspace makes me feel cheap, so here i am. i'm working on cutting and pasting my work xanga (which turned out to be my everything-but-work xanga). my options were to ferret out the non-worky stuff before posting here, so that this could be 'pure content' (from student teaching to oh my god, i got a real job) - or to leave in some (or all) of the jumbled ruminations on my personal life. so far i've been taking stuff out with no method to the madness. general rule: if it would surprise my intended audience in a really, really bad way, put it somewhere else ...

so, my fourth blog in as many years of blogging ... they go from dark to light, and this (as is intended now) is to be the second lightest (as in, the second most likely to see the light of day.) so cheerio for me. i'll try to keep the digressions to a minimum.

it's not a guillotine

he said, and i quote: "if your head was on this paper cutter right now, i'd cut it off!"

the other student was calm. i guess the two of them are accustomed to getting on each others' nerves. i sent him to the counselor's office, much less frantically than last time (when he expressed wanting to shoot another student in the head with an AK-47) but still firmly.

K.R. does know how to push his buttons, but he has to work on his attempts at peaceful verbal conflict resolution. my sanity is the least of the reasons.

i wish he was doing something other than going hunting with his father this coming summer. he needs to learn to handle a gun like K.R. needs her head chopped off.

amen, i quit

i lean away from k when we go to the movies. i don't know why. i just do. i lean so far in the opposite direction that it looks, as he pointed out tonight, as if we are two strangers who just happened to find seats next to each other in a crowded theater.

as usual he was on my left tonight, so i was leaning to my right. it just so happened that some guy came in late and sat in the seat to my right, and had no problem with the fact that i had taken up residence on the armrest. he settled in and before long was leaning to his left. we were far from snuggling, but there was a noticeable shortage of personal space. but i figured, i was there first and i'm comfortable. so i camped out like that for the rest of the movie.

later i make the mistake of mentioning to k that the guy was so close i could smell his cologne. this made k mad, which sparked a 25 minute conversation (on, in my opinion, absolutely nothing), which made ME mad. stupid. he ended up admitting that he was mostly irritated because the guy looked over at me and then at him once or twice. i choose to assume he was wondering why the hell i wanted that armrest when my date was on my left. so i told him that in exchange for listening to his stupid complaints for almost half an hour, and for my half-assed promise to try not to lean into any more strange men (whatever), that the next time we go out to something higher-profile than a get-together at his friends' place - be it one of his premieres, etc. - he WILL act like he came with me and that he thinks it's fucking cool that we're together. it still pisses me off when i remember the oc16 premiere at the sheraton, the one where he was more than happy to let me calm his nerves in a deserted foyer (and by calm his nerves, i mean JUST TALK), but once we rounded the corner, he dropped my hand and took off. no we weren't a couple then. no we're not much of a couple now. point? none.

before that i got mad because he made some comment about nobody visiting him at the FS. he said that before, about the year he was stationed at 42. when he moved to town he said, "thank god, because now maybe i'll get some visitors." call me hypersensitive but i really resented that i had driven to waikele sometimes twice a cycle, but he would never remember that. selective memories. he tried it again with 33, where he is now. i am at that station pretty frequently (i work down the street, gdamnit) but he said, over kaka'ako kitchen fare, "you don't care for the neighborhood, do you?" (because i rarely visit, supposedly.) first of all, i work in that neighborhood. second, are you deaf, blind AND dumb? geez. i asked him, since when have i expressed being afraid of the housing? i have NEVER had a problem with the valley. but since once he moves back out to the country he'll never even remember that i visited him out at 33, i might as well quit going.

peas and cheese

using the girls' wireless connection and spankin' new iBook. it is WAY past anyone's bedtime ... and i have a house blessing tomorrow ... and supposedly, some buca action tomorrow night ... k really wants to go, but i know half the time he is just thinking that i am running around town with martin. we still cannot see eye-to-eye on the tj's situation.

last night's screening was beyond bizarre. they just kept going off about the talented, talented cast - a three-person ensemble consisting of a guy with a genuine british accent that sounded fake, k with a fake fil accent, and his irl bilingual on-screen wife who i vaguely remember eating nachos with at dollar-nacho night @ compadres a couple weeks ago. there was some guy with foil dreds, red face paint, and clown pants who seemed to know a lot about filmmaking. there was the director, who kept dancing around with a bottle of wine and a bowl of chips. there was the video editor, who reminded me of this guy in my grad program who loved star wars and would talk about nothing else. it was the weirdest 16 minutes of my day. i didn't understand the script at all. i felt like a dunce, and then i got mad, and then i started to find it funny, which worried me because i still didn't get it. i just wanted to laugh at everything. especially when they started passing around this tray with crackers, brie, and green peas in a bowl. internal voice-over: "peas and cheese ... cheese rhymes with peas ..." HAHAHAH. shut up, shut up, shut up ...

a room of one's own?

phrase of the week: "replacement date." noun. use sparingly and with calm certitude.

sample usage: do let me know by friday if you will be filming next week saturday, as i will have to find a replacement date before then.

punctuate with a pleasant smile. instantaneous results guaranteed.

...

so i slept at the den, which i hate, although we did get out to E&O beforehand (i don't recommend the mangopolitan, which is basically pog and vodka). got "american beauty" and i got to see the gaping hole in the roof. it stopped me dead in my tracks, it was so big. i stood there with my mouth open and he said, "bigger than you thought?" and i said "hire some professionals, bitch!" and he said, "she did" and i said "fucking finally! you're not going up on that roof anymore!" and he said "i promise." i hate when i act like his wife when there are some things about being a girlfriend that are still hard to stomach, but sometimes i can't help myself. it normally comes out when i'm around people in his life that i hate. i'm glad to note it's more than simple jealous behavior, because that would make me feel like a loser. at least i can say it's not just XP -freaking-D, it's his dumb ultra gay roommates and ultra dumb landlord aunty too. although speaking of XPD, her friend (the one who likes to mix meds and alcohol) called on friday, several times, marking her messages "urgent," but would never pick up when he called her back. finally, wanting desperately to sleep, i said, "just call XPD." he goes "i can't believe you're suggesting that." "could be important" was all i replied. it was NOT important, by the way - the meds-mixing genius was having a barbecue the following night. sometimes when people are that dumb it's best to pity them and forget about being mad.

so last night at starbucks, when we were supposed to be crafting a mission statement for one of his projects, i was telling him about fairweather's predicament - wanting to move in with her boyfriend but not wanting to be hacked to death and served for dinner by her superconservative chinese mom. looking back on the conversation now, i have to hope i didn't seem like i was fishing for what he said later. it turned to me, and my own situation, and how i was slowly changing my mind about finding a place to rent, and instead trying to look at the big picture and home ownership and all that jazz. he said, regarding the interim, that i could move in with him at the house his grandmother is building that he eventually wants to live in once his lease at the hellhole is up. even though i know i don't want to jump from my parents' house to someone else's house, and that my deepest wish right now is to have that virginia woolfean room of my own, it made me so happy when he said that. like, silly happy. it made me smile ... even though i know it is unrealistic as pipe dreams come. i too have a mom with a cleaver. i don't want to live with him or anyone right now. i don't want to rent, period. and to be honest, the pragmatic half of him is probably looking for someone on par with him to share the rent (location, location, location.) but yeah, i enjoyed the thought for about an hour till we packed up and went our separate ways.

our trip

this is the most personal space i've had in five days. every day i insisted on at least ten solo minutes in the shower, but aside from that, i was fine with being joined at the hip. (but then, we were on vacation.) the funny thing is, i never got sick of him (and i fully expected to) but i know there were moments where he wanted to throttle me, yes indeedy. possibly when i almost tossed my cookies on indiana jones and then refused to go on space mountain, but definitely when we got REAMED on rental car collision insurance and i didn't say anything. (to be fair, i had assumed that he had rented cars in the past, but he never had, so, a yucky time was had by all at hertz rent-a-car.) i tried to make up for it by talking to the manager on duty about her employee, rob, but when all was said and done we still paid for something we never wanted.

you can learn so much about a person in five short days. i learned that k will drive when dead tired, which will make it a cold day in hell before i take another trip with him that involves driving long distances. i already knew, but got a better glimpse at, the fact that k is the kind of person who will wear very seriously a mickey mouse hat and t-shirt together. i observed k with his friends' new baby (why do spanking new parents assume that non-parents will appreciate their epidural and episiotomy stories?) and learned that he possesses lots of patience. i also learned that k really cannot help himself, he just adores XPD's parents and will not stop talking about how forking cool they are no matter how much it bugs me. saturday night he was just musing how cool it was that the gma likes him, because she "owns chinatown" (my ass), so when he went to brush his teeth i turned off all the lights and went to sleep instead of picking a pay-per-view movie like we had planned. i hope he got the message. let's see, what else ... i learned that he is a very light sleeper, a good tipper, and a compulsive snacker. will not eat tomatoes, not even to be polite. i learned that how scary he is when he drives fast is a kajillion times worse than when he drives really slow, so i will not dog his slow-ass driving anymore.

i loved being away with him. i wish we still were away.

today's good: laid the definitive smack down with a behavior contract they all had to sign and discuss with their parents. today's bad: the fac mtg from hell. we had to redo the master schedule, which f'ed up grade 5, student council, sped, everything. the domino effect made my head spin. today's ugly: me. this morning i dressed in the dark and wore no makeup. officer v: "you look tired." thanks ever so much. red, my first or second favorite color depending on the day of the week, is now the color of my hair, and so should never be the color of my clothing. i'll remember that.

what i teach

i have not had such a crappy time with a bunch of kids since kiddiepark. today took so many cakes and it's only the beginning. the two general opinions that circulate among veterans of "hurricane k," and i don't mean katrina, are that she needs more love or that she needs a kick in the ass. i have never been one to denounce a nice tall order of more love, and i'm not about to start, but i KNOW that giving her her very own private corner of the classroom and her very own tablet in which she can scribble death threats toward me and other messages of hatred and her very own teddy bear to squeeze when she is feeling angry, is not working. is going to stop. this isn't club fucking med, i don't care if you're GT, adhd, 504, SPED, angry, foster kid. you come into my classroom and i will teach you, listen to you, learn from you, advocate for you, laugh with you, fight decades of traditional institutionalized abuse for you, love you, and try my very best to like you, too. but i am not going to turn down your sheets or place a mint on your pillow or kick all the other guests out so you can have a more pleasant stay. i am not your aunty aloha, and she's taking the teddy bear back to the gift shop. THIS is your wake up call, and that's what you get from ME.

bitchmeter OTS

kevin and i missed a real wedding on account of the fake wedding. and we were late for the reception. i was starving (because we couldn't spend our down time in the kitchen with the cookies, damnit) and grumpy as heck. on the way to waikiki i was rummaging through his bag, looking for something to read, and he practically grabbed the bag from me and goes "what are you looking for?!" so i pretty much threw his bag back in the cab and said nevermind if you have SO MUCH STUFF YOU HAVE TO HIDE, and he said it was just that since it was his bag and all, he could probably help me find whatever i was looking for. and then the bestest part of all - k, who wanted to tuck in his KEN MOMOCHI ALOHA SHIRT for the wedding shot, REFUSED to tuck in his long-sleeved dress shirt for the actual wedding reception. at the shoot, he asked me whether the aloha shirt would look better tucked in and i said no. so when we got out of the car and were rushing to the hotel, i said, "THAT [red long-sleeved dress shirt] has to be tucked in." he said no, he liked it that way, and GET THIS, proceded to cite robin williams as his fashion inspiration. GOOD GOD! hey, everyone knows i love creative expression in dressing but that shirt looked ridiculous, and by the way, robin williams is allowed to look ridiculous because he is ridiculous. he makes a living being ridiculous. are you laughing yet? replaying it in my head, it is pretty funny but at the time, of course, i was pissed. anyway i then said that i should have just worn the yellow-gold pants i was planning to all along, and he said why didn't you, and i said "because i wanted you to look like you were with someone SANE." so he got all offended and said "am i embarrassing you?" and i said "why can't you ever just let a subject drop?" which made no sense because the subject was nowhere near closed at the time. whatever. again.

we got to the ballroom but decided to use the restroom before we went in. when i came out he was tucking his shirt in, so i went over and yanked the tucked-in part back out and stalked into the ballroom. no i was not at my best, but yes there was an open bar and so things improved shortly thereafter. i ordered a greyhound but someone forgot the juice so i tanked a highball of vodka on the rocks and talked to some other people on the table who got this weird idea that we were engaged. "you two are getting married, right?" said the girl to my right. "GOD NO!" i answered. that's when i realized i was being excessively bitchy and probably a little bit scary so i concentrated on eating seafood bisque and talking to grandbrother, who was nice and drunk, too.

i don't know why i agreed to watch a movie after that but we went to his stupid house, which i hate, and found his aunty there, and she's like "kevin, where's the futon?" to which he replies, "in my room, because my mattress sucks" and she goes "oh, well i was just wondering because the house is being appraised next week so ..." i mean if you want the futon back just SAY SO even though you're the landlord and don't technically live there and so shouldn't be telling the tenants where they can and can't keep the furniture. then she tells him to do the yard (this is part of his rental agreement) and he says he did the yard and she goes "really? because the place is being appraised next week ..." and at that point i'm just thinking that she has some communication problems. you want the futon back? just say so. you think he did a shitty job with the yard, which he probably did, and you need him to go back out? just say so! and f*cking a, woman, edging the lawn is not going to help anything when what you really need to do is repair the leaky roof, for starters, and evict the world's grossest male tenants whose razors are growing mold, who evidently cannot aim to save their lives, and who never, ever change their towels. there is like one chair in the living room, a folding BEACH CHAIR. but i guess it's good that you can move it in case the roof starts leaking right over your head.

fuck. it. all.

my boyfriend's ex-fuck-buddy's wedding

true girly moments, i have so few. mostly because i grew up that special brand of unathletic tomboy (not pretty, not prissy, not picky; preferred going barefoot so i could climb stuff but couldn't throw a softball to save my life.) so when i find myself acting like a pretty, prissy, picky girl, it actually really amuses me. i like clothes and makeup but usually find it too much of a hassle to go through much trouble coordinating the stuff. i like the diamonds and denim look. i don't brush my hair. color is important to me. matching is not. i like tall shoes. i feel that outfits are costumes. when i'm in the mood for eyeshadow, i wear it like a drag queen. i've gone months without bothering with makeup. all this can be summed up in a couple of observations: i'm a playful dresser, i don't have a clue what is fashionable, and i don't give a shit what people think of the way i look. er, unless i went and got all dressed up just for someone (rare), in which case it would be nice if they liked the way i looked. ... and so i disappointed myself in a major way today, by giving a shit (and giving myself a semi-complex in the process.) clothes? eyebrows? WHAT is going on?

a couple of days ago i went shopping for a voltage adapter and came home with a new outfit for the boyfriend's ex-fuck-buddy's wedding: a clingy light green strapless top with gathered sides and a predominantly pink, hobo-looking calf-length skirt with green and brown details. later i realized that the wedding might be in a church and i'd need to cover my shoulders with a scarf or shawl or something, and owning neither in an appropriate color, i went to get one. (side story: i went to sears because i had a $60 gift card, and do you know, they had ONE shawl in the whole store, and it was black. so i took my GC to shoes - sears carries SBICCA!! - and got 10 percent off both pairs because they were the "floor models" plus an additional 50 percent off the cheaper pair. side-side story: the SBICCA was the cheaper pair, if you can believe it. the more expensive pair is a whole other story worse than the cotton cargo thing.)

ahem. i went to le lotus bleu to find the shawl/scarf and while i was browsing through those stupid little quarter jackets that look big enough to warm your boobs and not much else, this girl came up to me and asked what i was looking for. a cover-up, i said, for a light green tube-top. she looked at the off-white jacket i was holding and said it wouldn't match. i was confused because doesn't white match everything? but what do i know ... i let her dump a brown jacket, a tan jacket, and a SPANGLY GRAY jacket on the table on top of the off-white one i actually liked. she held up the ugly as hell gray one with silver spangles in it and said it was the best match. i said, that's gray. she said, oh, it's white, it just looks gray because of the spangles. HUH? whatever, it was too ugly for words and i went back to the one i was originally considering. so she asks me what i'm wearing the top with. so i described the skirt to her and pulled similar examples off the rack to show her the colors. she goes, "oh that doesn't match at all. those greens aren't even the same. are the tags still on? you can still return it." up till that point, i could accept that she was just doing her job trying to sell stuff and maybe even trying to be helpful. but when she told me i should return the clothes, i thanked her and left her thirty-five boob jackets on the table and walked out of the store because i didn't ASK her opinion about my outfit, in fact i didn't ask for any help at all. i came in for a cover-up, not your fashion advice.

i was all pissed off driving home ... realized that the reason i am a "playful" dresser who sees clothing as costume is because i have to, because i'm fashion-stupid. i have NO SENSE when it comes to clothes. for example, i've overdressed for every first date i've ever been on. in middle school i went nuts trying to look nice on free dress days, trying to make my hair look like everyone else's, wondering why i could wear the exact same clothes as someone else and still look so damn weird. i gave up and have been much happier since. i can't take clothes that seriously, i have to not care - because if i did care, i'd drive myself crazy trying to get it right. some people have that sixth sense for fashion or at least color coordination. i have neither. i saw the lime green top, i saw the pink skirt, i liked them both, i put them both on, i said "damn, that's hot!" and i bought them. but ... when that little girl said "that doesn't match at all, you should return them!" i went home and tried on a different top, a different skirt, i even put on pants. i TOTALLY second-guessed my "damn, that's hot!" and wasted half an hour trying to fix the outfit. despite the fact that i had just been insulted by someone who would pair gray w/spangles and light green, but not light green with pink. okay, it's all turning to mush, isn't it.

in the end, i put the light green top back on, put the pink skirt back on, said "screw you, little girl ... damn, that's hot!" and went to the boyfriend's ex-fuck-buddy's wedding where about a thousand other people were wearing green but otherwise, a good time was had by all.

... well, a good and contemplative time. she was his fuck-buddy, after all. every time someone sang her praises i wanted to chime in: "she likes handcuffs and doing it in cars." in all seriousness, the wedding was beautiful, the minister's words were thought-provoking (God may have said it is not good for man to be alone, but he didn't say it was BAD either), and i avoided the two banes of my existence: the bouquet toss and the electric slide. i was only half-good at the open bar: instead of the greyhound i wanted i had half a shirley temple.

endnote: it's so funny but even though they got way freaky back in the day, i like this girl so much more than a lot of people he claims never to have touched.

i'd pop a cap in sancho

independence day 2k5 went down this way: woke up and for some reason decided to read the time mag special report on gitmo and detainee 063, which is not a good thing to read on a day you are supposed to be feeling proud to be an american. skedaddled to work (family biz) before noon so we could get it over with and have the rest of the day free. ken momochi dropped by to give me back my sunglasses, which i'd left on his dresser the night before. i was still salty-ish about the pre-bar scene but now that it's 3 a.m. the next-next day i *think* i can just chalk it up to his dum-dum factor AND the simple truth: neither of us is ready. (let's face it: if i wanted to take it back instead of talk to him about it, i am not ready either.) back to the stupid old drawing board. it was a lot better before i opened my mouth but i guess we can always work our way back up.

we headed out to XPD's and i was determined to have a damn good time or at least really enjoy not being in the cheap seats this year. on the way up the winding road, kmo shared the latest gossip about XPD and her man, who is emotionally withdrawing now that her departure date is nearing (she's heading off to SFO in a couple of months.) my heart bled for those two for five whole milliseconds. we got to the house and i had to admit, the view of our "city" was spectacular. i finally met the retarded roommate (the one who likes to mix meds and hard liquor) and she seemed likable enough, too bad i know as much about her as i do. got the requisite tour of the house - XPD cheerfully banned any and all from her "messy messy bedroom" and the retarded roommate piped up: "oh but kevin's already seen that room!". yes i am sure he has. the firework show lasted about three eternities and then we chatted a little bit inside while the rest of the guests were getting good and toasty.

doing his part to keep the love flowing between the members of his harem, kmo excused himself to the restroom and left the two of us to talk shop, which meant listening to her talk, and talk some more, about how she was just too damn original for the pageant to begin with (remember THAT entry?) and how she can go to china any time she pleases so why go with them? my feelings on that: i was not "most girls" either, that was not my comfort zone. i came to most of the classes in work clothes which almost never matched and i couldn't tell a lip pencil from a cray-pa. i had one person tell me i was a square peg trying to fit in a round hole, or whatever the expression is, and i took that as a compliment. i never thought i was better or worse than anyone else, but i always knew i was different. i never fit in, not even when i got to sit next to the rest of the pretty girls with crowns. but it was a GREAT experience. i went to everything, even the stuff no one else went to. i loved it. and now i try to convince anyone i can to try it out, too. especially the girls who say, "i would NEVER do that."

so to you, XPD, who are just too quirky, too special and too gosh darned creative, who were "forced" to do this pageant, who everyone knows is just pissed off because you were number two ... shut up. everyone knows. i may hate that kmo lets you put your hands all over him for any reason you can think up, but it's okay because he and i are just friends ... and everyone knows you think you should have won.

wow. did i just hit an all-time low? OR, it could go more like this:

so to you, XPD, who i think i could really get along with because i always felt two paces to the left of everyone else in my show as well, congratulations on SFO and good luck with your man.

the short of it is, i had no epiphanies. i didn't have a bad time, nor did i have a good time. i just had a time. she likes to talk, i like to talk. she knows stuff about me that she doesn't know i know she knows, and i know stuff about her that i couldn't care less whether she knows i know. she is proud of her individuality and her accomplishments. she thinks she's really special and has no qualms about articulating just how special she thinks she is. she's not the kind of person to put her photos away, she's the kind who will bring them out and expect you to love them, and most people do. what's especially irritating about the whole thing is that we have a fair amount of things in common. similar experiences, the need to talk, a love of travel, chinese moms, and an inflated self-esteem. i wonder if i'm as grating to others as she is to me.

---

THE NEXT DAY:

shiatsu tutorial tomorrow? kmo just invited XPD because "she wants to learn too." what the fuck? so i said, like the bitch that i am, "it is asking a lot of me to spend time with your friend twice in the span of three days. i went yesterday to be nice to YOU. thanks for telling me that she likes me, but i don't give a really big shit because i still don't like her. so if you need her to be there tomorrow, whatever, but just think about that."

k: "oh. um, okay. i just thought that it would be good because the two of you are the same size so you could practice on each other."

me: "what's wrong with practicing on you like every other time?"

k: "oh. um, okay."

i need to get out more. need to do something that requires a brain. need to play scrabble. need to stop using aaron and everyone else who stands still for more than 5 seconds as a sounding board. argh. where are my DVDs?

maybe i should spent less time wishing i had SJP's salary and wardrobe and more time figuring out where the hell those ants in my room are coming from.

why am i still with him?

(keep your) independence day

i made a jumbo, dumbo mistake tonight.

two reminders to self: NEVER try to re-capture the moment once it has definitely passed; romance is overrated.

... okay, here it is. the year-plus long thing about lack of title and seriousness? to make a really long story short, i pretty much asked him if it was okay to call him my boyfriend now. see, this whole time we've both let it be MY commitment issues that keep us what we are (or aren't) but i suspect he has a few c-issues himself and has just been getting off scot-free because i put mine on the table first. anyway, i brought it up tonight. if it is not clear to any of the ... like, three people reading this, i have major issues with the word "boyfriend" and the same issues with being called the "girlfriend." it entails privileges i'd like BUT responsibility i am happy to refuse. the tradeoff has so far been okay. but tonight in a drunken stupor (without actually being drunk) i popped the question and in response got a lukewarm, "okay, that sounds fine. want to go in now?"
i made him pull over for this conversation, and that's the response i got. okay, not pull over, but i didn't want to talk about it while we were on the freeway so i waited till we were parked at the bar (or six blocks away from it because there was no parking at the bar.) maybe my mistake was bringing it up while we were on our way to the bar. i should have just said it as soon as we finished dinner, standing in a light drizzle, as soon as it occurred to me.
what am i saying? that would have been even worse. fools, children, only FOOLS rush in. don't let anyone tell you that 1.5 years is too long to dick around. THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS TOO LONG. if it ain't broke, for fuck's sake don't attempt to fix it. okay i know it was not a marriage proposal or anything but i do think we could have lingered for a few minutes before dashing across the street to sit around in a vomitesque karaoke room with a bunch of people who were at 10 p.m. already as drunk as i wish i were now.

sing if you're single

bulletin on myspace: "why are you single?" ... answers range from "because i'm ugly and no one likes me" to "because i'm too fucking awesome." i am reminded tonight just why i myself am still single: it's a combination of my superiority complex (i too think i'm too fucking awesome, costco incident aside) and my general need to live in the past, wearing rose-colored glasses. and maybe because i like not answering to anyone, as in situations that involve exes. and possibly because i thrive on what seem like stupid, insignificant freedoms - the freedom to not talk on the phone when i don't want to. the freedom to eat dinner with someone who loves food as much as i do without having to explain to somebody's dumb ass that everyone has to eat and that dinner is just dinner, the way a cigar is (most often) just a cigar. i'm single because i think it is fine for me to go out to eat with the same friend four weeks in a row but would ream him out for doing the same.

and perhaps i am still single because i can get all indignant over one snappish voicemail when it's my fault i got a snappish voicemail to begin with. whatever.

---

i never thought my life would be this way again. i hoped and dreamed of it for a really long time and now, i've made my dreams come true. some know and some don't but what matters at the end of the day is that i now feel fully complete and while some may say it's sad that it might take a guy to do that or show that for you, i say "i don't care" cuz i'm happy and i would appreciate it if people would just let me be that way. no more blogs of how crappy i feel when i'm single or left out when all my other friends have a special someone.

to my nearest and dearest friends, thank you for all your love and support and for never judging me when i waivered to and fro about the love of my life. you have seen that i am living proof that happily ever after and there always is the hope of being with the one you truly love and are meant to be with. one day soon, you TOO will have your "happily ever afters ..." and now we can all celebrate at the "reception". =)

okay, before you choke and die, i didn't write that. i would not be caught dead using the phrase "special someone" and besides i'm sure she means "waver," not "waiver," and besides that, "waver to and fro" doesn't make sense to me. i lifted it from the "princezz diaries," this xanga i used to read, by this girl whose entries used to be boiling over with "no one's ever going to love me so i might as well stay with this guy who slaps me around because i'm that starved for attention." in case you can't tell, her self-esteem is the same (it's my party and i'll judge if i want to, i'm not her nearest or dearest friend) but somehow she found someone who somehow, some way, puts that stupid uncontrollable smile on her face - you know the one? - and that's what i miss, but i'm aware it's more than that ... the "knowledge" (or whatever it's called when your heart, not your head, decides) that it's right is more than that stupid smile. but that is a really important start. that's why this saccharine entry stands out for me ... the feeling that you're filling up and you can't wait to see them again and you can't believe you were shuffling through life without them just a month ago. i like to think i'm realistic, not a cynic. but do i think "the one" is bullshit because i'm level-headed or because i don't want to believe in something that not everyone is guaranteed? and am i going to re-read this in twelve hours and find it too retarded for words? i know it's okay to be with someone with whom you're not planning a future, and i know it's okay to be single forever (even if it's not okay with your mom), and it might even be okay that you still have dreams of pure happiness where you see the face of someone you're never getting back because they don't exist anymore, as long as you really do wake up in the end. it's all okay, where i am, who i'm with and not with, sometimes it's even really, really good. but sometimes i wonder, will there be more? i guess i can wait to find out. but i do wonder.

i said, i need to ask you something. i know what we are, i know what we aren't, i know all that. i still want to know, though, why do i mean so little to you? why has she always meant so much? WHY the FUCK could you not swat what you called the mosquito for the sake of what you called the princess?

before i do the narrative of what he said, let me just say ... the reason i'm so hooked on this stupid and meaningless pain is because he is not sharing it. people who are with you in any way, shape or form for two years, hell, people who are friends who have their friendships changed so drastically, the one thing they are supposed to have in common is hurt feelings. even with my self-esteem in the toilet i know i am worth more than this. so WHY do i persist?

he said something that would, if it were anyone else, be shockingly lame, but because it's him, it was just typical and sad. of course i wanted him to say, "i am, i did, she's nothing." but he said, she and bobby broke up recently, and because he and bobby are boys his loyalty lies with him. with bobby. "so actually we don't talk anymore." you stupid fucking worthless shit-for-brains asshole. you'd do it for fucking bobby but never considered doing it for me.

so like the shit-for-brains ex-girlfriend i am, i pushed on with, "so why would you never do it for me? what is it about me that is worth so little? how can she be worth so fucking much?"

so he said, well he could never drop a friend no matter how negative the situation was because he, I SHIT YOU NOT, he said this, he would never abandon an injured animal. it is worse than a bad analogy, it is worse than salt in the two-year wound, it is a testament to how stupid and worthless he is and how fucked up i am for wanting anything more from him.

is he on drugs? am i? how can anyone be as stupid as either of us? the thing of it is: he never called her a mosquito. he gave lame attempts at trying to downplay their friendship, but he never said he didn't like her company, her attention, her conversation, her looks. and he never, ever called me, in word or action, a princess. he never put me first.

i am NOT a princess, so i guess this is okay. i know how to work hard, i know the value of getting things done myself, i gave away the one person who ever treated me better than i deserved. so in this situation there is a princess and there is a mosquito but she wears the crown and i am the pest. i am the one buzzing in his ear STILL - why don't you love me? why wasn't i enough?

and what i'm really asking is, how could you never see how lucky you were; how could i let someone as stupid and blind as you be the one who chose someone else over me. and truly, what is it about her that makes losing me so insignificant?

so you point out, he hasn't lost you, moron, and that's why he acts this way. and it is true. i am still here - use my laptop, abuse my educator discount at barnes and noble, ask me to proofread your god awful prose when i should be sleeping because i have a job that requires mental presence and emotional generosity. he's not even the one doing it anymore, i am masochistically standing here, actively inviting him to be his usual thoughtless, shitty self.

i am mad at me.

i need a specific goal and a strategy for attaining it. i want so much for him to feel SOMETHING, preferably something like loss - this i must get over. he is simply incapable. i want him to know i am worth so much more than my mosquito actions suggest - this i must get over. he had two years to realize it. i want to punch christine in the face - this i must get over. she lives too far away. i want to tell someone he hates his innermost thoughts and feelings - this i must get over. half of them were probably fabricated and also i should not strive to take the low road.

do i want him to be in my life. yes. do i know he is a horrible person to have in my life. yes. do i know that i am misusing punctuation in a way completely unacceptable for an english major. yes. do i give a shit. no. if i cold turkey'd him, would i miss him. yes. would i feel sick. yes. would he suddenly appear very attractive to me. yes. would i just about die if he started dating someone. yes. is it likely that it would happen very soon. yes. is it possible that he would pile another bale of hay on the already-broken camel's back and date christine. yes. if we were "friends" and he dated christine and she asked him once to stop talking to me would he do it. yes. would i then run him over with his own truck. yes. has caring about him made me into a person that i am ashamed to be. yes.

do i want him to be in my life.

no.

post script

I have two thoughts with which to permanently close this blog. One is on friendship, the other, on jealousy. Friendship is rare, jealousy unattractive. Period. I had a lot more to say about these two things earlier this week, but a conversation with a rare friend, one whom I am lucky to have, has made me pause to reconsider the way I present my feelings.

There will be no retraction of anything I said, because all the facts were true, the opinions were mine to hold, and, like the elevator safety certificate that's kept locked away in the office, those formerly posted facts and strongly-seasoned opinions are just a click away if ever there should be a need for them to see the light of day again. But in the meantime, I will replace those facts and opinions with comments that are more succinct and constructive, and less destructively barbed.

Let me begin by saying that I love words; they're a big part of my life, and I use them with proficience. When my purpose is to explain something, I'm clear. When I want to mollify an intense situation, I can. When I mean to hurt someone, I absolutely do. However, I never, ever attack someone unless they've fucked with me first - and even then, it has to be worth something important to me.

As I expressed before, friendship is important to me. Ken Momochi, in this particular situation, was important to me - so, when messed with out of the clear blue, I responded. I did not tread lightly nor speak kindly, because I had no fear of being wrong and because frankly I wasn't convinced of his girlfriend's importance to him, as 1) when asked, he couldn't put into words what he liked about her, and 2) she presented herself as a sneaky, insecure (and slightly insane) person who was not a little obsessed with uncovering a crime that would never be committed. But for what may be excellent reasons, he does like her. Hell, as I said in my previous post, even I liked her - very much - the day we met. So much that I was totally blindsided when she demanded that we stop communicating. Prior to that shock, I thought she was great. (I cannot lie, I now think she's ridiculous and that K deserves better. But I might always feel that way, being a woman, and being his friend.) Bottom line: I will respect the relationship K is in. Why? Because K and I are friends. I know what that means, and I know what it takes.

And because she does not, in turn, have to respect his friendship with me, the girlfriend can demand the cessation of our communication if she needs to, because yes, different people need different things in order to be happy. A friendship cannot be magically ended by another person's groundless jealousy, but two people may cease to communicate if a groundlessly jealous person's will is strong enough. My point still stands: that "will" is the weakest foundation for a "relationship" I can imagine.

But here's one thing I know: We make our own happiness. Dara, for example, can wallow in misery because she can't control the world and people around her, or she can figure out how to make herself happy, and how to surround herself with the kind of people who will foster that happiness. No matter what happens in this situation, I will be the person I am, because I know how to be happy and don't have to rely on others to validate me. It is just a bonus, a gift from God, that I found and am marrying someone who makes me as happy as Scott does. Our relationship is grounded in trust, exists in the present, and looks toward the future. We recognize each others' pasts, but the past is not the crux of our relationship. Why would you want to live that way?

If Dara gets her way and K and I don't talk anymore, then I will dearly miss my very good friend, but again, I will still be the person I am, and that person is not one to waste time and heart fighting the forces of sheer walking stupidity. Here's my last thought on groundless jealousy: it makes you look like a total fool, and it makes you yourself appear less trustworthy. Here's my last thought on friendship: It's something worth fighting for, but it's not something you fight someone else for, because then its integrity suffers, and the heart of it is destroyed. Same with a relationship.

Think about it.

THE END.

The lightbulb has gone on: We will not be together because my quality is too high for your low standards. You enjoy Christine's "dumb blonde" act because of your self-described low standards. You overlook Jen's hurtful behavior toward me because you "don't expect much from her."

Keep your standards, then -

I'll never be stupid or thoughtless enough to make you happy,

and you'll never be smart enough for me.

Reasons to delete this blog: No longer need a place to put angry thoughts about Kevin, because I have very few angry thoughts left. For awhile I didn't think I'd be able to let go of that anger. Well, even Khorkina had to get over losing the Athens gold to Carly Patterson, and god knows K's no gold medal, so I think I'll live. Reason number two: Maintaining five blogs is stupid. Reason number three: I've upgraded (downgraded?) myself from churlish to crabby on occasion. Man-hating is not a sport. Hating, in general, is not a sport.

Reasons to keep the blog: It never was just a Kevin blog. And anyway, my "work" xanga evolved into a Kevin blog. It was a place to put my hawaii.edu entries so that if my page ever disappeared (which, geez, it should have by now) I'd have my thoughts and words, which I thought were so clever back in college, for posterity. It was also a place to put my xanga things when I thought I wanted to leave xanga.

Maybe I'll delete it, maybe this will just be my last entry. (So wishy-washy. I hate this about myself.) I think I'm in a good place. I cannot remember what it felt like to be in his arms, I no longer play the whatif game in my spare time because I played it so much that I realized that the answer to whatif was always the same result. Those moments I could make postcards out of, those moments are not real and would never happen because I was no angel myself and also because he never wanted me enough to go the shortest distance. They were pretty postcards, though. My half, anyway. I like, no I love, that I can't remember the last time I saw him and that the last time he came over I made a point of not being home, instead of making a point of being home. I hate him, I'm sorry for him, it's all still too much attention to pay, but I no longer want him, am done needing to understand him, still want him to wake up and realize he was an idiot to let me go - but that's just my massive ego speaking. I still just think I'm better than him and can't believe I lost the game. The game of love is still just a stupid game. That's not bitterness, it's differentiating between game-y love and actual love. Which still existed, the last time I checked.

I am a sap. Yes.

congraduations

i went straight into complaining about my c. acting like my second mom that i didn't realize i never really talked about graduation. graduation itself was awesome. the kids were great, and my little z pulled through and delivered her speech beautifully. (she was definitely my pet. i'm sorry.) the dinner thing was nice ... but my favorite part was the bus ride there and back. the kids, bless them, sang like they were being shuttled off to camp - at the top of their lungs. they sang the two grad songs, the alma mater, and anything else they could think of. unfortunately that included a lot of ludacris and ciara but it was just so neat to see them ALL bust out of their shells that we couldn't stop smiling. cheesy, huh.

john hirokawa ... dunno if you've ever seen the show (and if not, hope this doesn't spoil it for you) but for his closing act, he makes it snow in the showroom. i've been an emotional wreck for ... i don't even know how long it's been, but by wreck i mean sometimes completely stopped-up, other times i want to cry at the drop of a hat. it was kind of drop-of-a-hat on grad night (despite the fact that we sailed through the ceremony with nary a tear) and when it started snowing even my c. looked at me and asked me if i was ok. i should have started bawling. let's see who wants to be my mommy now.

tomorrow's the last day for teachers ... i am exhausted but RELIEVED that c. isn't going to come in until thursday. i'm going to get as much done as i can tomorrow so that the time we spend together is very limited. i don't want to say too much about anything (lest i jinx my chances) but i will say just this: i hope not to have to pack TOO thoroughly. oh, here's something that will make you laugh - tomorrow the nice lady from nextel is going to visit me at work to set up my paperwork. the phone is going to be message central and outgoing calls only. i have to admit, i need VM really bad. after the phone (which i am getting for a sweet $10 next to an even sweeter $30/mo. for 800 min w/nights and wknds) my next investment is going to be a PO box if the aiea thing doesn't work out. actually, on investments, what i need more than anything right now is new jeans. seriously, i need new pants in the worst way.

priority list: clean classroom and shut down; talk to boss about rehire; buy pants; do "action plan" for summer trip. i'm really, really excited about it ... we've only had one meeting so far but i'm already mentally packing. it's going to be hot but i don't care ... we're probably going to eat insects, but i don't care ... we're going to have to sing and dance and work, and the group keeps getting bigger and bigger - i think there are 30something people now - but i don't care. i just can't wait to go. i passed up italy. i let go of san francisco. and this opportunity landed in my lap and i can't wait to go.

the rug out from under

school's out in about a week. no teachable days left. well, let's revise that - no textbook teaching days left. in fact, i have to do my stupid f*cking textbook inventory tuesday - shoulda started sooner but i really wanted to get through the civil war.

report cards, i should go pick them up from the school or just go in tomorrow.

it's pretty much over. i'm going to cry on friday the second "pomp and circumstance" kicks in ... and let me bitch about "pomp and circumstance" since bitching is what i do best. (when i consider this offense, i vascillate between "that's petty" and "stupid b*tch!" but fellow ex-student teachers, tell me what YOU think.)

it was MY job to direct the graduation songs - as in, sit center, direct them to rise, give them hand signals during the songs, and signal them to sit. this may seem minor but 1) MY kid is introducing the song in her speech, 2) I have been working with the kids on volume, expression, crescendoes, etc. ... 3) this "decision" to switch jobs (minor as it MAY seem) was made in my absence. so i get back from a workshop to find that my C. has decided that SHE should direct and i should sit in the fucking corner with the CD/cassette player. are you inputting that? she gets to sit front and center and run the fucking show while i press play and stop and have a lovely view of the kids' left ears. the kids I have worked with all year.

she wanted to come back and help out with graduation, lovely. good on her, whatever. but it is written into the script that SHE would do the music and I would direct the songs and that really seems more fitting than the way it turned out. for one thing, she doesn't know the kids anymore, not that she ever did for sure. when she wants results, she criticizes their singing. i get results by letting them know i LOVE their singing and need to hear it better. when she wants them to smile, she criticizes their faces. i get results by smiling at them. DUH. and as you have probably figured out, there's no way around or out of this short of telling my C that i want my fucking job back. (side note: i know why this happened. two reasons - 1) she once fucked up a graduation ceremony by playing the wrong tape and got teased by the emcee till she found the right one and 2) she misses the attention. there.

minor, right? hopefully on the day of, i will see it that way. right now i feel icky about all manner of things and so am taking this pretty personally. just when i think i'm rid of her. JUST WHEN.

ugh.

cheap?

"long-winded complaint in which K is still cheap but for once not wrong."

friday night against my better judgment i attended a joint birthday celebration for K and some of his friends.

fast-forward to today, when K mentions that shane (one of the friends i really like) called him sunday to give him a talking-to. shane asks K if he dropped $ fri nite because they came up $20 short for the table. K said no, he was under the impression that since the party was a BIRTHDAY celebration not thrown by the birthday people, that they were paid for. i found this a reasonable assumption. i myself had assumed that when G was divvying up the bill and said $20 for everyone, that he had distributed the guests of honor's share in there. anyway, shane says, uh, well, most times the invitees at least offer to pay, and of course their money is refused. shane ends up telling K that the entire posse thinks K is, in general, cheap.

here is why i find shane's little scolding to be teeming with shit:

fine, K is cheap, i will not dispute that nor defend him from those allegations. no way. BUT. first of all, it was his damn birthday. WHO invites someone out for their birthday and then asks them to pay for their dinner? K did not organize this dinner. Spacey did. second, if shane really felt like "kev could have at least offered," he would not have brought it up with him. if he truly was just irritated by what he perceived as a lack of etiquette on kevin's part, and all along intended for the rest of the party to pay for his dinner, he would NOT have said, "we came up $20 short."

bottom line is, who really needs the etiquette lesson here? i think it's Spacey and shane. tell me if you think i'm out of line, but i seriously have never invited someone out for their birthday or any kind of celebration and been offended when they didn't offer to pay. second, since they obviously have no problem being tacky bastards, why didn't they just ask him then? they obviously had noticed who had not thrown in. (if they had just been guessing, they would have guessed it was me.) and third, i don't think people with $60K+ incomes should be grousing about this shit. there were 10 of us at that table (OK not all with $60K+ incomes), 20 something others spread out on other tables. like it was really such a burden on them all. i did not complain that i had to pay even though K had invited me (and last minute, too), and i did not complain that i ate like three bites of food because his friends make me lose my appetite, yet had to pay as much as CB #2's bottomless pit husband did. if i had complained, i would have had more cause to complain than shane or Spacey.

grrr. people. grrr.

---

Sunday, April 10, 2005

testing - one week down, two to go. mondays are dark, if you will, to allow for recovery from the weekend. (mondays are statistically high-absentee days.) i caught one of my kids telling a chronic absentee: "you don't have to come monday, there's no test." RAAR. i was on that pair like ... (if i had a good analogy i'd use it.) i don't like kids to feel like they have to censor their thoughts, especially when they're not even talking to me, but i HAD to be scary on that one. have i taught them NOTHING? now i will never say this out loud (because in this state you'd be shot) but for corn's sake i would rather have them be absent for the three weeks of testing and come for the rest of the year when i actually teach them useful things.

hai-yah

i can't believe how little time there is left before comps. i can't believe how little time there is left to the whole thing. i still remember that surprisingly enjoyable drive out to holy family twice a week ... wednesday evenings and saturday mornings. survived bogart, trudeau, wack temp-control in the ed building, neal, mark, mike, empty soda machines, class till 9.41 p.m., recorder finals (all i can say is, thank god we never had to sing.)

went to the housewarming party tonight. i think K and al were doing their cat and mouse thing again, and it was very un-cute. al saw jason and me at coffee or tea the other night, and must have told K, who brought it up as the girls and i were leaving the party. "hey al, where'd you say you saw chris?"

"coffee or tea." al is giving me some kind of *look*.

me: "oh yeah? why didn't you say hi?"

"i was outside, i only saw you as you were leaving."

uh-huh.

and here's the thing. i put it all out there for K. i stopped letting him think that i really don't spend all that much time with jason. i told him point-blank that it's cool that he (K) and i still hang out, but basically, i don't care what he does with XPD or any of his other chickie friends, and that what i do isn't his business anymore either. maybe someday i'll take the time to explain in full detail what is happening with j, but for now let's just say, we hang out a very lot and i do not lie to K about it - why should i?

so funny, a few days after his dense remark about the praxis, K says, "i gotta take you out to celebrate passing the test." i say, "cool. maybe zippy's sometime next week."

my mom got mad when i told her that story (which i thought was funny, personally.) she goes, "that was your chance to tell him that you're not just a cheap date!" (which i also found funny. because i am.) anyway, i said his chance to figure out shit like that expired on valentine's day. maybe i am still being shallow but after the whole dumpage thing and the spiel about zippy's vs. mediterraneo's, me vs. christine, one might think he'd use v-day as an opportunity to make some kind of effort in the direction i was talking about. he did not. so i told my mom, the days for that are over. what do i care NOW if i never eat anything but saimin and chili with him? right there at the dinner table i explained it to my mom like this: "it's like johnny punani says every morning on 102.7 FM: 'PAU, GO 'WAY!'" ... she was not amused.

anyway, i took the girls to the party and they had a pretty good time. K looked fine (as in really, really fine) but the nice thing is, i am getting over that. it used to be really easy to separate the looks and all that other goodness from the behavior, but now i'm pretty good at remembering that they go together.