Life, or Something Like It

Countdown to fall semester: six days
Two days before orientation


This is actually my 200th post here over the span of the little over a year since I completely revamped the blog last summer. Go me, right?

Ahem, anyway.

I mentioned earlier, over the weekend, that more shitty things had transpired over the past few days, and I wasn't kidding. Now that those things have been mostly rectified, I can write and talk about them here.

I can't remember when, but one day last week -- either Thursday or Friday, probably -- I noticed that my school folder had gone missing from my computer.

As in, completely gone.

This is, folks, a very bad bad thing.

My school folder contains everything I've done in graduate school -- papers, assignments, projects, templates and important documents (such as my student loan disclosure statements and the like) -- but more than anything else, it also contains all of my teaching materials and lesson plans, and most importantly, it contains my thesis. You know, my thesis, the thing that is basically the culmination of my entire graduate school career? The thing that's going to be half of what earns me my degree, and will probably end up as my first published book of poetry? Yeah, that.

Gone. all gone. Completely gone.

I cannot properly express the gravity of this situation fully. A week and a half before classes start, and I no longer have any of my lesson plans or the thesis that I've spent most of the summer meticulously constructing off-and-on to get it sounding just right, to include in it only the works which I felt deserved to be in there, and having them follow some sort of sequence in which I felt they best made sense and flowed together.

I did searches. I scoured my computer, I scoured everything and every possible place it could have been shuffled off to on my machine. It had simply disappeared. Somehow the folder itself had gotten completely deleted and wiped clean from my computer's hard drive. I'm guessing I did it at some point by accident, and just didn't notice it for a day or two, but I have no clue how that could have happened.

Luckily (well, depending on how you look at it) I made a backup of my hard drive's contents about a month ago on my biggest (read: 16GB) flash drive, and I was able to restore the folder from that. However, I was basically back to where I'd started a month ago. Up until this past weekend, I was pretty much 95% or so done on the thesis, and I had daily lesson plans scheduled and typed up -- as well as an updated syllabus/office hours sheet -- for the entire first month-long unit of my classes this fall. Having to restore everything from my backup shot me backwards to having none of those lesson plans done, and having my thesis only about 40% or so complete. With little more than a week before classes start, this was a huge problem.

So, because I didn't have much of a choice, I sat down here at my desk, turned off all internet-related applications, and began writing. With about fifteen or sixteen hours' worth of work, a pot and a half of Tim Horton's coffee, and a pack of Liggett cigarettes, I completely reconstructed my thesis and finished it. It now sits at fifty pages, total, and its "first draft" of sorts is complete. I immediately made a new backup on my flash drive -- I am not doing that again. I also thanked Tim Horton's coffee and Liggett cigarettes on my "Special Thanks" page at the back.

The next day I did the same thing with my lesson plans, reconstructing them from what I remembered and basing them on what I have done in my previous semesters of teaching my Engineering English class -- streamlining them by the day and weeding out the more "needless" lessons and discussions, beefing up some of the others, etc. I was able to shave a full week off of the first unit, and made some needed changes to the syllabus. I was also able to construct my schedule and office hours around the times I need to be working and when, so when I was finished redoing everything, it was all better than before. This took me about eight hours' worth of work, and when I was done, I again made another backup.

So, with 24 hours' (or more) worth of solid work under my belt, things are back to normal and I am relatively ready to start the semester...at least when it comes to lesson plans and the like, anyhow. Everything else remains to be seen.

My student loans have come in, have been processed by the university, have cleared my student account there, and have been sent to my bank, yet they have not yet shown up in my bank account in any form, pending or otherwise. According to student accounts (and it says this every semester) it may take up to five business days for them to clear and be deposited into my account as an ACH (as per the usual, just like my direct deposit paychecks for being a GTA). It never takes that long, obviously, but it looks like it's taking a little while longer than usual this time. Either that or my bank is being slow -- I had to go to Walmart yesterday morning, for example, and that purchase ($30 for cat food, litter, and some small foodstuffs to tide me over) is still pending right now, when normally it would have gone through by now. I've been checking my account a few times per day just to see if it's shown up yet. So eh. It takes a while, I suppose. Let it take an extra day or two to clear, no worries; I've already gotten confirmation from the school that it's on its way, so now I just have to wait. Even if it does take the full "five business days to process," I will survive just fine and it will completely clear by the weekend. I can't remember how long it took in the spring, or even last year at this time, and I survived then with just as little money to spare as I have now. I'll "make do," as they say.

Still, with any waiting involving money (especially financial aid) there is always that paranoia that something will go wrong or get fucked up along the way, because I'm neurotic like that. Poor + neurotic = no fun in Brandon-land. Oh, how many days have I spent this summer being poor and neurotic? Lots of them. Most of them, actually. I'm pretty sure if there was a gland that produced stress and neuroses, I've burned it out over the course of this summer with all of the shit I've been through -- most of it, of course, that I've not written about here for many, many different reasons.

[UPDATE] Said money is now pending in my account and should clear in a matter of hours.

In other news? Last night, my webcam/microphone crapped out on me. As in, completely. I got a strange message saying the driver for it was corrupted, and that Linux was searching for a suitable driver for it -- which, of course, makes no sense because it is a USB, plug-and-play device. I've gone to the Logitech (the manufacturer) website and attempted to find a replacement which will be compatible with Linux, and I thought I did. However, it still screwed up and wouldn't work, so now I have to dive through the bowels of Linux support messageboards and the like to see if there's a way to get it working again. It just sucks because I bought the camera for $30 about two months ago (read: back when I had money) and it's really nice, 780p HD output, etc. Having a camera and microphone is sort of essential for programs such as Skype...which ends up crashing on me almost every time I use it anyhow, so that doesn't help much either.

[UPDATE] I downloaded updates to Linux last night which ended up somehow disabling the software that said camera works with. I found a command-line workaround and it is now up and running again. After about two hours of searching for info, of course. Ugh. Regardless, at least it works now. For the moment.

I've probably mentioned our orientation schedule for fall before, but I'm not sure. All of us GTAs (both old and new) have been given tentative schedules for our classes we'll teach. I say tentative because our office administrator said she'd have to go back in and switch a few things around. My classes, however, didn't change days/times/places, though, simply because those things are "set" for my classes long before anyone else's schedules are set because I teach the only sections of the Science/Engineering English 102. Usually, I know when and where my classes are going to be far in advance of anyone else in the department save for a few of the full professors and other faculty members, and those of us who teach online courses. Anyway, because I'm one of the returning GTAs, we have a simple three-hour orientation sort of meeting on Thursday morning, in the Writing Center, from 9AM to noon.

As an aside, this will be the first day I have to get up reeeeeeally early again, and will start a chain of such mornings, interrupted only by weekends, from then until mid-December. In preparation, I have tried as much as possible to force my body into a "sleep at night, be awake during the day like a normal person" sleeping pattern again, and for the most part it's worked. I've been going to bed between 11:30 and 1 on most nights, and have been getting up between 9 and 11 most mornings. While this is about double the amount of sleep I'll be getting every night throughout most of the semester, it is at least workable and a step in the right direction, I think. However, I sense much coffee in my future over the course of the next three and a half months. Much coffee. Oh yes.

The purpose of the three-hour morning orientation for those of us who are returning isn't exactly clear, to be honest with you. Especially for those of us who are third-year GTAs -- we know the ropes already, we know what to do and what not to do, and we're good. More than anything else, I'm guessing it will be a meet-and-greet sort of scenario, something that (as most of you know) I'm rather bad at. As I recall from my previous orientations, it involves a short address/speech from the chair of the department and the directors of the various programs (the MA and the creative writing programs, really), and a let's-go-around-the-room-and-introduce-ourselves session, and then we're paired up with the new recruits and told to show them around campus -- something I've never participated in, mainly because A) I don't know where anything on campus is aside from the student union and, like, the buildings I've taught in, and B) because the new grad students aren't toddlers; they can read a map and wander the campus by themselves without supervision. No offense to any of those "new recruits" who may eventually read this, but I have no desire to pal around with people I don't even know, putting myself in awkward social situations that I can't stand and don't function well in. Let those in my class and the second-year class who are more social (and who actually live in Wichita) do that; let those people show the newbies around and have fun with them. I'll be going back home to my cats and my man cave for three more days before I'm forced to be on campus for long hours every day until mid-December.

Tomorrow will be spent taking care of the stuff that I can now actually take care of since my money will be in my possession, including paying the bills I haven't dealt with yet and making my big grocery shopping trip, and then tomorrow night I must go to bed really early (read: like, 10PM or so) in order to be able to get up early for Thursday morning's orientation meeting. Thursday and Friday nights will both be spent watching football, as there's games on that I can actually watch on the networks (Fox and CBS, respectively), and the weekend -- my last weekend of true freedom -- will be spent taking care of everything else I need to do around the house or in regards to expenses and the like before school starts on Monday. Again, I now have less than a week of relative freedom remaining before the grand, long slog of fall semester rears its ugly head and dominates my life and all of my free time for the foreseeable future. I'm not necessarily looking forward to that, but I'm also not not looking forward to it either. It will be, on some level, good to have a sort of routine again. And, after spending the past three months listless, mostly unhappy, and dreadfully poor, maybe it'll improve my mood somewhat.

Survival, Part II

(it might help to read Part I first. FYI.)

I've been promising for the past several days (read: almost a month) that I was going to use what my friend Adam sent me, quote him on the vast majority of it, and use it as our first "collaboration" of sorts on women, love, judgment, and the meaning of life.

Heavy topics, I know.

For those unfamiliar, I've known Adam for over ten years now. He and I became friends when we were both undergraduate students at WVU, which was about a third of our lives ago. Yeah. It's been that long. He is the only friend I've had in that time who has legitimately scared my mother upon meeting her, and one of only about five friends who has ever met either of my parents, period. He is covered in tattoos, used to boast many piercings (including heavily gauged ears) and runs a small record label. He's very into the hardcore scene, is perpetually single and jaded when it comes to love and women (hm, sounding familiar, folks?) and up until this week, lived in North Carolina. He recently moved to South Carolina, or is currently in the process of doing so.

Adam is also one of the smartest, sharpest, and most quick-witted people I've ever known. And he's been through a hell of a lot in his life. There aren't many people whose experiences and wisdom I trust more than his, and there aren't many people who have been friends with me as long as he has. When he gives me advice, I tend to take it -- or, at least, consider it.

Here's what he had to say. I've offset his stuff with block quotes and italics:

So, after reading your rather depressing post (sans shout out for keeping ships from sinking as it were), I figured I'd throw some words out there on the whole thing, post it or not, quote it or not, but here it is, words with more words.

When I think of the word "judgment," I think of things like "god," "religion," death, law, and predisposition towards others. Let's be honest here -- no matter what we do, we are constantly judged for various reasons, be it appearance, financial status, taste in what "culture" helps define you as a "person," and social status. To me, it's all a bunch of bullshit regardless. If you let people's judgment of you truly affect your day to day operations, you are giving someone permission to take charge of your life and guide it as they see fit on whatever whims they may have, fleeting or not. Did I miss something here, or are we REALLY that worried about what someone says? I'll put it like this: unless you are a close friend/family member, are fucking me/are in a relationship with me, are paying me/an artist I could be working with, or a pet, I could truly give four fucks what you have to say to me or what you think of me.

I like that he included "or a pet" in that. That, my friends, is hilarious.

I don't know. For a number of reasons that I'd rather not talk about here, last night I completely deleted and wiped my second, secret OkCupid profile, the one I used simply to keep tabs on friends and continue my "question war" with Adam. I have no desire to use the site ever again, for anything. Fuck it. It's a horrible place that's caused me nothing but problems and stress over the course of the last nine months or so. Yes, I've found wonderful people on it -- both Daisy and Lady I never would have met without that site -- but I'm done with it. When I wrote about two months ago (and posted the video of it, even), quoting Aliens and saying that "nuking the entire site from orbit was the only way to be sure," I meant it. And I mean it even more now. The place is a cesspool filled with mostly damaged, deranged people who cannot function in the real world. Note that I said mostly.

As for judgment, I think all of us deal with it on a daily basis anyhow, whether we want to admit it or not, or realize it or not. And the worst of it does come from those close friends and family members, as Adam mentioned above in that excerpt. I don't associate with "the public," or anyone who doesn't matter to me on an intellectual level. I just don't. Look at me, folks: I'm a poor grad student who never leaves the house, who owns a busted-up car and three cats. I don't have anyone else to judge me other than my close friends and family, a group (at least when it comes to friends, anyhow) which is getting smaller by the week, smaller by the month, by the year. Most of those people only know a sliver of what I define as the real me, because I put on masks or personas to suit different situations and different types of social interactions. You do too; don't lie to yourself. My extended family doesn't know the real me any better than someone passing by me on the street does -- and the same goes for even most of my close friends. They know parts of the real me, sure. They may even know large parts of me. But that's it. Why? Because of judgment. And that's why all of us tailor our personalities to people and situations whether we realize it or not. We are, as a whole, afraid to be ourselves. Why are we afraid? Because if we had no fear, no nervousness, decorum, or tact, we'd be left alone. Nobody would want anything to do with us. We'd no longer have any friends at all, and our families might disown us.

Maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm just that strange. And, ironically, I have put on less of a mask or persona than most have throughout their lives, especially in situations that may have called for it. For example, I swear like a sailor in most casual conversation, especially when I'm trying to make a point. I grow my beard and hair long (though I do keep it neat and somewhat respectable-looking) because I want to, which goes against most of society's norms. I make, and wear, lots of tie-dye clothing, wear lots of comic book/music group/offensive t-shirts, even in professional settings (such as teaching), and most of the time I don't care who I offend because, for the most part, anyone who I would offend with what I say or do isn't someone who would or should want to associate with me anyhow. Yet I am still never completely myself, because being my complete self generally tends to alienate people and/or makes them run away or stop associating with me -- and contrary to what you might think based on what I've said already, yes, I would like some (very few, but some) of those people to stick around in my life.

Again, as I've written before, I can't even be my complete self on this blog. I will always, at least to some extent, censor or edit myself. Too many people read it. Too many people have access to it. And you folks have no idea the amount of shit I've gotten for some of the stuff I've written here that I did heavily edit or censor before posting it. I can't tell you how sick I am of that, and I can't tell you how many times I've considered completely deleting this blog over the past three months or so just so that I could get everyone to leave me alone.

Going back to, and bouncing off of, what Adam said: no, I don't care about what people who aren't close to me think about me, or about who I am. But I am very, very fed up with receiving nothing but criticism of my character, complaints, or outright self-righteous judgment over who I am from people who are close to me -- and it's only gotten worse over the course of the past few months. It is as if the only things people can say to me anymore are about how much of a horrible person I am or criticizing something I've said, done, or didn't say/didn't do. That is what I mean when I use the word "judgment," from my personal perspective. It is that I am literally being judged by people, people I'm close to, on a daily basis. And I'm sick of it, especially when all it has been as of late is some people being self-righteous enough to criticize me simply for who I am, or something I've said, or for something that pisses them off about me, which doesn't affect them. And, of course, it wouldn't bother me if there wasn't always such negativity involved with it -- nobody, for example, tells me things like "hey, you're awesome" or "hey, this isn't your fault," etc. The one exception to this is that Lady has been reading through my blog as of late (which she's never done before, ever) and has complimented me on the fact that I am a great writer, very expressive, etc.


Anyway, continuing with Adam's words...

I remember moving around when I was a kid, and I was the FNG (fucking new guy) so often and was judged harshly for one reason or another, being the son of a single parent (my father raised me for the most part, my mom passed away before I turned 9 for those needing a point of reference on this self-destructing memo), not being a catholic, social awkwardness due to whatever reason, taste(s) in whatever, it happened again and again and again, and it got worse when my dad got remarried to my now ex-step mom (die cunt die), THEN the divorce, the moving, the everything...and it was the type of pressure that can break anyone wanting nothing more than to be normal and accepted like in an 80s teen movie. Well, thats not the reality of it all, and heres the kicker, thank the fuck dark lord Tom Selleck it happened that way.

IF I had been the folly of someone's judgment and decided on a more normative approach to every aspect of my life, I'd be dead before I even had the gumption to read your latest posting and reply in a semi-charmed kinda way. It reminds me of where I was when I was much younger, and I don't mean to be a condescending fuckwit here, but you are alive, right? And I don't mean that in the "I woke up and went to work" alive, I mean actually alive, worry free of these boot-licking supplicants and wannabe socialite shit-heels and other sycophantic cunts that just want to be seen to be seen, and heard and so on.

Preach it, brother.

Also? Bonus points for the dark lord Tom Selleck. Seriously.

I wont say I don't "judge" things or people, but I do so more in accordance to my personal tastes or distastes and it's all completely contextual...but rarely is it with pure venom just for pure venom's sake. Brandon and I have different tastes in music, art, books, etc..but what that DOESN'T say is that despite our differences and successes and failures, I don't "judge" him for these; I prefer to associate with Brandon due to his ability to write and who he is at his core...and if you compared the two of us standing side by side, more than likely you wouldn't think us to associate with each other...we simply LOOK too different and people will "JUDGE" our association to whatever ends they fancy in their soggy, milquetoast heads.

Actually, about ten or eleven years ago, remembering how I dressed and acted then? Nah. People would've assumed we were friends/got along/etc. And they would've been right. I just didn't have any tattoos or piercings. My demeanor, however, was much different then than it is now. Adam remembers -- I am so not the same person now that I was in college.

We do have different tastes in music, for the most part, though I would imagine that our tastes in art and books runs pretty parallel to one another. Still, a number of different groups/bands I never would have heard of or ever listened to if it weren't for Adam's influences in my life back then, and those bands I still follow and listen to today.

Anyway, onward:

I kept re-reading the okstupid and the potential ideas of being hurt sections the most. Human beings are good at about 3 things in total: helping, hurting, and doing nothing. That's life, and there are those who help, but you'll run into the do-nothings and the hurtful, so there is no way that you can't get through life without knowing your limits on all things, and thats the way it is...but giving it more credit than needed is where people fall into a rut, in one way or another. Efforts and attempts are not celebrated or treated like they should be, you attempted it, you failed...you either try again or try something else.

Bonus points for calling it "okstupid." I just personally find it somewhat amusing that I finally finish this post now, the day after I deleted even my secret profile from the site. Oh well.

Adam is very right here; we must all know our limits. Sadly, I know many more do-nothings and hurtful people than I know helpful people. This is why I have so few friends I would call "close" with no restrictions on that label. Actually, to be completely fair, I could probably be classified to most people as a "do-nothing" simply because of the path I've chosen in life -- I'm not changing the world, I'm not out there in it being helpful, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, etc. I am a graduate student getting a Master's degree in fucking poetry, which -- on the hierarchy of being useful in this world, ranks right above majoring in ceramics or underwater basket-weaving. Still, I am not outright hurtful, and I don't intend to let the world idly pass me by. I may not have any sort of grand "I must make my mark on the world" sort of plan for myself, because not only would that be grandiose and foolhardy, but it would be arrogant. I can only be what I am or what I will eventually become.

And he is right about that last section, too -- more right than he knows, actually. Efforts and attempts are not celebrated or are treated as they should be. I've had a really, really shitty summer, as you folks know. When I had to, I made every effort and attempt that I could reasonably do to get myself out of the situation I was in, to pull myself up and survive on my own doing what I could do, and by doing what I was actually able to do, which included selling a ton of my games and selling my guitar, as well as going hungry a few nights a week so that I had enough money for food for the cats and gas for the car in order to drive back and forth for teaching. Yes, I sold everything I could. Yes, I went hungry. Yes, I dealt with 105-degree temperatures without turning on my air conditioner much (if at all) because I couldn't afford the electric bill. I made many sacrifices and explored many options that otherwise I would not have otherwise considered, including borrowing money from my parents, just to be able to survive. Look down on me for that all you want, but I just barely, barely made it through thanks to a little luck and some help from my parents.

I know the idea of potential future loss, and its a rather terrifying thing when you get down to the core of it all. I'd rather see how introspective I'll get on said subject until every last nerve in my body is screaming to get the fuck up and do something about it and not let it define me or have it be yet another reason for someone to "judge" me. I've been able to prove to not only others but myself that some of my core attributes, while they can be nasty and vile, I have the ability to hold in check and actually show more than contempt and disdain for things. I've been able to prove to myself its ok to laugh at these fuckers who get off on their ability to judge others and even let MOST of their shit go (close to all, but lets be honest here there comes a time when you simply must step it the fuck up and put people in their place) these days.

Well put, my friend. Well put. And I agree with most all of that as well. As I've mentioned here before, there's a point where you just have to let most things go, ignore them, and move on with your life. For me, I "put people in their place" fairly rarely; most of the time it's simply wasted effort, wasted breath. People don't listen, they don't care, they're stubborn and arrogant in their views. Why bother? Why waste your time, right or wrong? It's needless stress, needless drama, and I have never been a fan of drama or confrontation anyhow. Life's too short to bother with most people in such a way. Leave 'em to their own devices, let 'em think what they want. I don't like being judged, no, but there's no way I'll ever be able to stop people from judging me, and the same could be said for anyone. The most any of us can do is to recognize who will and who won't be condescending or judgmental to us, and steer clear of the people who will be. I've mentioned this before, briefly -- I call these sorts of people "toxic." They are people whose presence I don't need in my life, and sadly all of us will run into people like this many times over many years. The trick is in recognizing them before it's too late and they suck you down into the proverbial despair vortex as well.

So, there you have it. My first collaboration with Adam. Sorry you folks had to wait so long on it. I've been rather busy with a ton of really shitty things over the past few days, though I'll fill you in on it in my next post.

Antisocial Bullshit, Part II

Countdown to fall semester: seventeen days


It's not that I'm antisocial, mind you, it's that I've taken a sort of, ahem...sabbatical from the internet for most daylight hours these days. And most nighttime hours, too. I've sort of taken a sabbatical from most social interaction period. This isn't really a huge deal or anything to be concerned about, really -- I've been focusing on catching up with the chores around the house and on my writing. Oh, and sleep. Most of my daylight hours are now spent asleep, as I am most productive at night.

Of course, this is nothing really new; I haven't logged on to AIM in a very long time, I've spoken with Daisy and Zedral over Skype and Facebook off-and-on, but for very short times, and as I've mentioned before, as I am out of phone minutes, my phone has been turned off. I haven't turned it on in at least two weeks. Who knows how many messages and/or texts I have from people. If I can even receive anything when my phone is out of minutes, that is.

I've drafted out several poems to edit and work on as of late to add to my thesis as last-minute additions to its first draft, which is due on the 14th or so. That's less than two weeks from now, so I have to get everything wrapped up nicely and taken care of as quickly and efficiently as possible. Whether these poems will be included in the final version of the thesis in May is beyond me, really, but as it stands the thesis I have sits at 28 pages, and I'd like to get it close to 40 or 50 before it's done. This means that over the course of this next week or so, I'll be fairly closed off to most folks as I hunker down, cigarette hanging from my lips, 44oz. cup of coffee on my desk, and spend several hours a day typing, writing, revising, editing, and formatting everything to look and sound just right. My thesis is the culmination of my entire graduate school education and experience, and will probably end up being my first published book of poetry, so I am spending a lot of time tweaking it here and there in order to get it done.

Today is August 3. It is a milestone of sorts; it means I've completely made it through the summer. I get paid today. It's "pending" in my bank account now, and will clear within the next several hours. I also checked financial aid via my student account, and found that my student loans will drop on August 11 -- that's next weekend, in case you weren't keeping track. The rest of this month, from this point forward, looks fairly interesting. Yeah, there will be a lot of expenses and responsibilities I'll have to take care of, but I'll also be able to have a little breathing space, some peace-of-mind. Money doesn't buy happiness, but having a bit of it to spare sure as hell helps to solve a lot of problems.

Here's a short list of stuff I have to do over the next few weeks:

• Do grocery/essentials shopping, both in person and online
• Order whatever books I need for the fall semester (shouldn't be many)
• Put gas in the car (there's about 15 miles' worth left in the tank)
• Schedule maintenance for said car (expensive, but necessary)
• Pay off credit cards/other bills/rent
• Pay parents back the money they loaned me (duh)
• Finish thesis (again, duh)
• Attend orientation for the English department (should be the 16th or so)
• Tweak and update syllabus/assignments for the classes I teach
• Finish the first collaboration post with Adam (started but never posted it)
• WATCH FUCKIN' FOOTBALL (so won't lie about this)
• Continue to ignore the Olympics 
• Purchase anti-spider/anti-insect spray, coat the house with it
• Mow the grass again (provided, of course, that it ever rains again)
• Figure out when Lady is getting back into town (more on this below)
• Run errands (mailing things, copying keys, getting furnace filters from ACE Hardware, the only place in town that sells the size I use, etc.)
• Clean off the back deck and hose it down, get rid of the trash/junk on there
• Refill my phone minutes
• Attempt to detach from the rest of the world and actually watch some of the movies I have never watched all spring/summer, yet have waiting for me in the living room's DVD rack
• Figure out if I'm going to make a trip to sell the DVDs and games I've been trying to sell via Craigslist and other places for the past month
• Complete some custom dye projects for two different friends, who have been waiting on me to do so for a while (as I've been, well, broke)
• Pre-order Pokemon Black/White 2 (shut up, it's the only video game vice I have)
• Try to see The Dark Knight Rises before it leaves theaters
• Many other little things. 

There's a lot to do. There really is. Just because I'm not teaching anymore for the next two weeks or so doesn't mean that all of my responsibilities just stop -- it means that now that I'll have some money (not a lot, but some) I'll be able to take care of a lot of the stuff I've been unable to do or unable to afford for most of the summer, stuff like the aforementioned car maintenance, running errands like the ones mentioned, and refilling my phone so that I can actually use it again.

I also mentioned above, on that list, that figuring out when Lady is going to be back here is something that I'm concerned with and/or need to deal with. I have talked to Lady infrequently over the summer -- for those of you who don't know who she is, she's my ex who broke up with me in late May/early June -- and she told me that she is going to return to her former college about 180 miles from here to get her bachelor's degree (even though her college is a two-year school, they just started a four-year baccalaureate program in several disciplines -- including English, which is her major). However, while Lady and I are on friendly terms, we haven't talked in almost three weeks now, and her coming back out here for school again is a bit...well, troubling for me, to say the least.

I have always said, and will continue to say that even though Lady and I had a, well...shall we say, very rocky breakup that wasn't pleasant at all, the girl is still very important to me, and I'm sure I am to her -- in fact, I'm guessing that the only reason she decided to come back to school out here instead of pursuing a cheaper, easier option which was closer to home for her is because she wanted to be out here close to me. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Daisy said to me once "You planned a life with her," and that sentence keeps echoing through my head. Like I said, it's troubling. It's troubling to know that she probably chose to return to the midwest for me and me alone, even though she hates it here, and even though she and I are no longer together. It's troubling to know that more than likely, because she will be out here, she will probably enter my life again in some capacity. Lady has not made it a secret that she knows she made a mistake in leaving me, and that she wants me back, she still loves me, etc. I've known this for a long time, yet for the summer have kept silent on the subject, both to her and to most other people. It's because I don't know how to respond to it. She became very, very jealous and upset when Daisy and I briefly dated, and even though Daisy and I aren't in a relationship now and never will be again, that doesn't mean I'm going to turn around and suddenly say "well, Lady, you want me? You can have me." No, not at all.

Again, as I've said before, I don't want to drag anyone down with me if I end up failing at life over the course of the next nine months or so. I don't want to be in a relationship with, and certainly don't want to "date" anyone right now. The concept frightens me, and the thought of Lady returning to the midwest for school frightens me even more because of that fact. Like it or not, whether I want to admit it or not, Daisy was right -- I did plan a life with her. And there will always be a part of me which will love Lady dearly, and miss the good times we had. But even though those times have been over for only about three months or so, they seem like ancient history. I feel so far removed from them, so distanced from the girl that the concept of her suddenly popping back into my life (if she does) seems so foreign and strange. Yet, I know her very well. I know she won't be out here and back in school for more than a week or two before she calls me and says something like "let's work on us again," and I...I won't know how to respond to that, or how I should respond to it. I won't coldly push her away and ignore her, yet I won't sweep her up into my arms again, either.

I don't know how I feel about that prospect, and it scares the hell out of me. It's a total arm's-length scenario, and with a much, much longer proverbial arm than Daisy and I ever held each other at. Lady is very important to me, yes, and I've written about that at length here before -- but I'm not going to forget everything that transpired between us that ended things in the first place. There's a reason (many reasons, actually) that I'm guarded, that I keep myself closed off from nearly everyone these days. And most of them are things that I have not and will not cover here in this blog.

And meanwhile, friends in different cities are calling my name, especially those in Portland, where my dear friend April lives -- she and our mutual friend Michelle have basically been begging me to move to Portland once I graduate. As mentioned before, April's been trying to get me to move out there for years. Years, folks.

Daisy wrote this earlier this week, in reference to me:

Slightly related, I told [Brandon] he should move to [city], yet I am now being to question that.  I wanted him to move to [city] because I think [city] is a great city that he’d enjoy and selfishly I like the thought of him being closer to me—I like knowing I can check in on and him and make sure he’s ok and I like the thought of hanging out with him more often.  But, then I realized something, I’m being like some people in his past and asking him to move to a location simply because of me.  And then, what, if I decide to move I should tell him to move there as well?  He’s spent too much of his life living for other people, it’s wrong for me to try to encourage him to do that again.  He needs to move to whereas it is that he wants.  I can’t be his everything and it’s wrong for me to ask him to follow me when I know how he operates.

I know Daisy wants me to move there, to where she is, after I graduate. She hasn't made that a secret. And while I might really enjoy doing that, I have to examine all of my options first, of course. She makes a very salient point, though -- I have spent a great deal of my life living for other people. Those of you who know me well know that I've really done nothing but that for the past, oh, seven years or so. You know I moved to Missouri, and then to Kansas, to be with my ex while she completed school. I'd planned a life with Lady on the east coast before we broke up, as well. It is only in snippets, a few months at a time, over this past year that I've realized I have to live for myself -- something that is completely new to me, completely new for me, and something that I've covered at great lengths here in the blog before.

Daisy is very intelligent. No matter how close we are as friends, she knows as well as I do that's all we'll ever be, and she doesn't want to be selfish and tell me to do something (or move somewhere) that I may not end up enjoying just because she wants me to be geographically closer to her. She loves me -- truly loves me, and I understand that, but she also understands how I operate (a line in that bit of her writing that I adored, because it says so many things in so few words). It's scary how well she knows me after we've been friends for only two months or so. Underneath it all, Daisy is just as scared of losing me from her life as I am scared of the rest of my own life and where it will take me. Regardless of what happens, regardless of who I'm in a relationship with or not in a relationship with, Daisy just wants to metaphorically grab me and not let me go, keep me here, because as she's told me in the past, I'm the "finest man she's ever known" and one of her closest friends. I can't and don't fault her for that, and never could. I can't describe how much having her in my life has been a blessing to me, and if I do end up moving to Portland, or back home, start dating someone (long shot), or hell, even getting back together with Lady (the longest of long shots) and moving to the east coast after graduation, I don't want to make her feel like I've abandoned her in some capacity -- but I know she will feel like that to some extent anyway. Daisy and I have this weird, special bond. It's a strong one, a very strong one, but one that can still be damaged depending on what I choose to do in my life over the next year or so. And as she is probably my closest friend at this point, I do worry about hurting her feelings or disappointing her. A lot. I can't and won't lie about that.

Then again, I have my own "abandonment issues" I've written about here in the blog from time to time as well, so this sort of sentiment isn't exactly new to me.

One of the friends I mentioned last week, in passing in my "Hot Blooded" post, one of the friends who criticized me and basically said I was a horrible person and gave me a laundry list of reasons why I was, in her eyes, sent me a message earlier this week asking if I was going to "stop pouting" and talk to her, or if we were done speaking.

I haven't spoken to, written to, or contacted this friend in any way since she went off on me, out of the blue, at basically one of the lowest points in my life (and certainly my lowest point of the summer) financially, spiritually, and emotionally. The fact that this friend knew this and went off on me anyway not only hurt me very deeply, but I really had no response to it. I still don't. As I've mentioned before, I don't take kindly to being lectured or talked down to by anyone, or being treated like a child who needs discipline. I am rapidly approaching age thirty, and I am well aware of who I am and what choices I've made or didn't make in my life when I should or shouldn't have -- going off on me about it solves nothing and isn't productive in any way, and to do it when she did was basically kicking me when I was down. Her message to me earlier this week that asked me if I was going to "stop pouting" and talk to her only serves to prove that my choice not to respond to her was the right one, as apparently she still feels the same way she did then -- otherwise she would have apologized instead.

Those of you who know me well or who have been reading this blog for a long time can probably guess who this person is simply because I haven't mentioned her name here in the blog in almost a month. I do that out of respect for her -- she and I have been very close for a long, long time, but I don't know what to do about this situation. When I don't know what to do about a situation, the best thing for me to do is just let it go and forget about it. I don't have any ill will towards this friend, of course -- I somehow doubt that I ever could -- but I'm not going to be lectured or talked down to by anyone, especially not my closest friends. You make your choices, I make mine -- you do you, as Daisy would say. Will I talk to this friend again and "make up" with her? Probably, eventually. I hope so, anyway. Will this happen anytime soon? I don't know. Will she read this and see how I feel? Who knows.

Not many people have been reading my blog at all lately, actually. I haven't had a hit from Wichita in almost a week, which means none of my friends in the department have been reading. Daisy reads it, Zedral reads it, and my parents read it, along with a few friends scattered around the country, but that's it. I'm okay with this, really. Eh. I know I'm fairly uninteresting most of the time; I accept that.

As for me, and my weekend plans? Well, like I said, once my paycheck clears my bank account, I have to do some grocery shopping and put some gas in the car. I've been flirting with the idea of ordering a pizza for dinner as well, just so that I can get some real food in my stomach that I don't have to cook for once. Last night I made fajitas with the fresh vegetables and tortillas that Daisy brought down here for me earlier this week, but I am so tired of being creative. I want food delivered to my door. That may sound selfish or lazy of me, but keep in mind that this past month has been really rough on me, folks. I deserve a little bit of a break, a little treat.

So, that's what's been going on as of late. Yes, it's a lot, I know. More updates will be coming soon, probably. It depends on how much more of my thesis I can get finished and when. For now, though, it's almost 8AM, and I'm going back to bed.

Visitations

First, let's update on what's been happenin' around the Casa de Brandon:

Daisy came down last night as she'd planned, and it was very nice to have some company for a while in the otherwise quiet house. She didn't get here until almost midnight (or something like that, I lost track of time while waiting for her to arrive, as I was reading a book of poetry).

The cats have gotten used to Daisy's visits at this point, even Sadie -- who is normally so skittish that when a friend visits, she will hide under the bed until they leave. She did do that last night for a long time, but eventually came out. She was much more social this morning, even allowing Daisy to pet her and talk to her. Sadie doesn't do this with anyone but me, and never has. Even when my longtime ex still lived here, Sadie wasn't a huge fan of anyone but me. She's always been "my" cat, my shadow, ever since she was a tiny little kitten. When Sadie was no bigger than my hand, she used to jump up on my lap when I lived in my first apartment in Missouri, and would climb inside my robe to go to sleep while I was sitting at the computer, and in the winter, even five years later, she still does this occasionally. I think she's really protective of me, so the fact that she came out while Daisy was here -- much less let her pet her -- says quite a lot. When Lady and I were together, she was here almost every weekend, and Sadie always kept hidden most of the time.

Daisy came bearing gifts, both from her and her mother -- she brought me a huge can of Tim Horton's coffee back from Canada, as well as a big travel mug and a t-shirt that says I'm a Type "Eh" Personality, which I found hilarious in that kitschy, tourist-y way. I'm so going to wear it all the time. She also brought me a can of Gatorade powder (because it's so hard to find here anymore), which was awesome to get. I've already made two 2L bottles of Gatorade with it. Mmm, Gatorade.

Daisy's mother sent a bunch of food with her, as well -- an entire bag of potatoes, a bunch of ears of corn, some fruits and vegetables (cherries, plums, peppers, zucchini, cherry tomatoes, and cucumber), rolls, bagels, tortillas, a can of beans and a new jar of salsa, etc. All sorts of different stuff. I haven't even looked through all of it yet because there's so much of it -- I'll have to make final assessments later. Last night we just fridged the cold stuff and put the rest in the pantry.

I am very, very lucky to have friends (and parents of friends, even!) who care so much about me and want to do everything they can to be nice and sweet, even when -- and especially when -- they don't have to at all. Daisy is like family to me at this point, as is her mother, so it's like I've got a surrogate family of sorts out here in the midwest -- even if said family is a five-hour drive away from here. I do find it really sweet (really, really sweet) that Daisy would spend ten hours on the road, driving here and back, to spend a little more than twelve hours with me -- about half of which we were sleeping. I can't tell you how grateful I am to have people like her in my life, even if they are few and far between. The ones who I matter most to make it known to me, and I make it known to them that they are important to me.

I immediately felt really guilty, and like a total fool, for not getting over my social anxiety for a few days just to go up there and spend time with her family. As a small token of thanks I did send a thank-you gift back with Daisy for her mother, when she left about two hours ago. If you know me at all, you probably already know what it is without me even telling you.

Daisy fell asleep around 2:30 or so, and that's when things got interesting.

If you're my friend on Facebook, you probably saw that two nights ago, I cooked a fantastic dinner of lightly-fried spaghetti, tossed with olive oil, garlic, tofu, butter, and spinach. Lots of tofu and spinach.

Tofu and spinach aren't normal staples of my diet, really, though I do love them both. I rarely have spinach in the house, and even more rarely do I have anything tofu or tofu-derived. Daisy brought them both down here the last time she was here (before her long vacation) and I'd just gotten around to using them. It was, as I mentioned, a fantastic dinner, and one that filled me up quite nicely.

Well, around 3AM last night, um, ahem...it wanted back out.

That's about as delicately as I can put it, really.

I spent most of the night awake and uncomfortable because of this, while Daisy slept like a rock. This is fine, of course -- all of us spend the occasional night awake due to an upset stomach. The timing of it could've been better, that's all. It did clear up by the morning, and I was able to sleep a few short hours -- during most of which Daisy was already awake and texting/playing on her phone. Eh, it happens, I suppose. I'm really tired now, and I'll sleep later once I know she's home and safe.

Also, I accidentally swallowed a plum pit while I was eating one of the plums Daisy's mother sent me. Yeah. I did that. I'm an idiot sometimes.

No, before you ask, it shouldn't hurt me. I'm just an idiot. I've done it before, too, years ago. Again, idiot.

Still, the plums are really good.

Daisy left around noon; I tried to feed her, give her stuff to eat and drink so that she wouldn't be hungry all day for her drive home (I do have plenty of stuff she can eat, despite her veganism) but she refused. I think part of it is that she didn't want to eat anything that she thought I would need to survive on over the course of the next few days, which is really cute, but she did bring a lot of foodstuffs with her from her mother. I even offered her some of my completely vegan waffles, made with almond milk and flaxseed, but she didn't want any. For some reason, it doesn't feel right to not feed a guest in my home; maybe this is something I've carried into my adult life from my parents. I suppose it probably is. Still, it feels so weird. I usually cook for my guests or take them out to dinner. It's just strange for me, really.

It stormed last night for a little while, right as Daisy went to sleep. I watched the lightning and rain (yes, holy shit, rain in Kansas in summer) for a while as I was awake and not feeling well. It rained for maybe half an hour, and by this morning everything had dried up again. It looks like it could storm again any minute, but I doubt it will.

Anyway, yes, there's more to write, including my collaboration thing with Adam, but I haven't had the chance to work on it yet. I'll be working on it over the next day or two.

Antisocial Bullshit

Dear Brandon, I don't like this antisocial bullshit. Nope, not one bit. 

That is a message Daisy sent me two nights ago, before I finally came back to my computer.


I know she sent it with love, obviously. Sounds sort of Dr. Seuss-like to me.

Indeed, I returned to my computer to find about fifteen messages from people -- Daisy, Daisy's mother (who sent me a very sweet message about me not coming up this weekend), messages from Zedral, etc. Apparently if I don't touch my computer for the majority of a day, the internet freaks out and all of my friends think something's happened to me. By the time I actually sat down here for any length of time, everyone who had left me messages had already gone to bed.

In reality, I did exactly what I said I was going to do in my last blog post -- I went to bed, got up yesterday afternoon, did some light cleaning and the dishes, and didn't even turn on my computer. When I was done, I was hot and tired again, so I made a little food and took a late-evening nap from around 9 to 2. Yesterday it was 108 degrees outside, so I slept until the afternoon and waited until the evening to do anything that would, y'know, require me to be able to breathe. Right now, it's 104.

As an aside, I do not like the term "antisocial" when it's applied to me. I am not antisocial, really. Not in the true sense of the term. I do have friends and family who I talk to on a regular basis and don't ignore (though there are some, yes, I do ignore for one reason or another). If I were truly antisocial I'd not even be writing here. I am indeed very social with people I know and love, even if I don't know them that well -- for example, I wrote a long, very sweet reply to Daisy's mother, thanking her for understanding and for checking in with me, telling her that I really appreciated it. Which, of course, I did and do.

Of course, there are still many things on my mind, many things that still must be taken care of over the course of the next few weeks. 

I told Daisy tonight that moving to Portland after graduation is a very real possibility for me, that I've already got a strong network of friends there (four friends, specifically, either in or around the city) and that if I wanted to stay in the academic field, I could do it there easier than in most other places -- not only are there strong teachers' unions, but adjunct unions as well. She did not necessarily like the fact that I was considering a move to there -- after all, it is quite literally 1,000 miles from here -- but understands why it's a possibility, understands why I find it so appealing. Even if I don't stay in the academic field (which, again, is a strong possibility as well), it's Portland. It's not like Wichita or Kansas City or any of these other midwest metropolises where living is miserable, nothing ever really happens, and opportunities for meaningful work or living are virtually nil. It's Portland. It's a completely different environment than I have ever experienced before. Yes, cost of living is higher there, but yes, there are also a lot more opportunities to actually do something with my life there, as well, and be happy doing it somewhere that is not fucking Kansas or West Virginia.

Daisy really, really wants me to start my job searching in her city first, obviously. She wants me to move there after I graduate, and hasn't really made that much of a secret. I am not, shall we say, opposed to this, but I absolutely want to get out of the midwest. It's not exactly pleasant here, you know. They call these states "flyover states" for a reason -- it's because nothing vital, nothing important happens here. You hear stories about people leaving Kansas, Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska, etc. all the time and never coming back. Yeah, there's a reason for that -- it's because there's nothing here, and they can actually do something with their lives in a different part of the country.

I do, however, have a list of cities and/or states I would like to move to and continue my life after graduate school, and here they are, in no particular order:

1. Portland
2. Minneapolis
3. Chicago
4. New Orleans
5. Seattle
6. Pittsburgh
7. Ohio
8. Omaha (I have my reasons)
9. North OR South Carolina
10. Richmond
11. Santa Fe OR Albuquerque
12. Delaware (anywhere in the state)
13. Vancouver
14. Toronto
15. Boston
16. Philadelphia
17. New Jersey (anywhere in the state)

Note that most of these places are larger cities and/or on a coast of some sort, and/or are a relatively large, liberal metropolitan area. I've lived in the rural, red-state-conservative, bible-thumping midwest long enough. I'd so much rather live somewhere with a bunch of weirdo atheists who appreciate the arts, poetry, writing, music, and a place in which I'll be able to get a relatively stable job.

For those more questionable choices on the list? Let me explain them.

Minneapolis has a great music and arts scene, as well as an excellent stand-up comedy scene. It may be ass-chillingly cold in the winter, but in the summer it will be nice and cool, and I'll always be a few hours' drive from the beaches of Lake Superior.

Ohio is still mostly flat (well, the western half of the state is), it's relatively quiet but also has several large cities (Cleveland, Cincinnati, Columbus, Dayton, etc.) and again, I'd never be more than a few hours' drive from the beaches of a Great Lake -- this time, Lake Erie. Plus, their flag is cool, I may be able to help swing an election or two, it's relatively close to my parents, and there are White Castles there.

North or South Carolina would be nice because there are multiple beaches, popular beaches, in each state, and if I were to settle there I would choose a beach town and would work in the industry somehow. I also have a few connections in each state -- Adam lives in North Carolina, for example.

Richmond is on the list because there is a ton of industry and government jobs there, and because it's relatively close to my parents (about an eight-to-ten-hour drive) and, once again, it's close to all of the beaches of the state.

Vancouver and Toronto are on the list because, c'mon, it's Canada. Tim Horton's. Free healthcare. Liberal cities. Yeah baby.

Santa Fe and Albuquerque are on the list because if I'm gonna live somewhere that it's 105-110 every day in the summer, I'd rather it be in or around a city where something actually happens. Yes, that's a dig at Wichita. I considered adding Phoenix to the list, too.

Delaware and New Jersey are on the list for different reasons under an overall umbrella -- they're coastal states. My family used to go to the beach every year in Delaware, and it's a beautiful state with kind, fun people. New Jersey is where Kevin Smith is from. I'd kill to live in Red Bank or Leonardo.

Pittsburgh is on there because I already know the city well, have many friends who live there, and it's 90 minutes from my parents' house. Plus, permit me to be a bit testosterone-driven here for a minute, but, ahem... STEELERS! PENGUINS! IRON CITY BEER! ....Pirates....

Anyway, yeah.

No, I'm not giving my reasons why Omaha is on the list, and I don't feel that I need to give reasons for places like Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago, Seattle, or New Orleans. The reasons I'd want to live in those places should be evident.

Anyway. Switching gears.

I am not antisocial at all; in fact, I'm entertaining a guest tonight. Because I didn't come up this weekend, Daisy is coming down here for a visit. I don't know what we'll do (we're both rather broke at the moment, me being really broke) but I'll probably attempt to culture her by showing her some nerdy movies she's never seen before. See? I'm not antisocial, I interact with people, etc. It was sort of a spur-of-the-moment idea last night, to be honest with you. However, as she doesn't work until Thursday, and I'm done now with all of my school-related stuff, neither of us have a whole lot to do. And she's been on vacation since the middle of the month, so we haven't seen each other much.

It will be nice to see her and spend some time with her, to interact with another person in, well, person. You folks know I don't get to do that very much. Hell, tonight I was invited out to meet up with a few friends and the newbies (read: new graduate students for the fall) and I had to decline due to having a little less than half a tank of gas in the car and $20.95 in my bank account. Daisy's coming down anyway, though, so it's not like I would've gone anyhow. I might have if I had more money and gas.

So that's about all that's going on right now. I'll update again soon. I still have to write with Adam, and the stuff he wrote to pre-collaborate with me, so that will be coming up soon as well.

Fear and Loathing in Newton, Kansas

It has been a really, really strange past few days.

Backstory: bills have been paid, and I will survive (fairly) comfortably, at least in a financial sense, I suppose, until I get paid again next Friday. Daisy was on vacation all around the nation (and Canada!) until Thursday night. I gave my final exam on Tuesday night, calculated all of the grades yesterday, and posted/turned them in to the office on campus today.

Ahem. So, that being said to set the stage, let's tell the story of what's been going on, shall we?


The short version:
Weeks ago, Daisy asked me if I wanted to come visit her and her family in her (big) city once she got back from vacation. I wrote about this here on the blog, and how I declined because I was uncomfortable with the notion of meeting her entire family without any context behind it, when I'd have to be introduced as "a friend" and nothing more, etc., how meeting someone's family is a huge deal to me and isn't something I do willy-nilly or off-the-cuff. It's really, really important to me, and the entire situation sounded supremely awkward for me, so I told her no -- not to offend her or her parents/family or anything like that, because they really like me, but because I just wouldn't be comfortable. Tonight, she asked me again, and I relented and decided I would go, only to have a panic attack less than an hour later about it, after which I told her that I just couldn't do it, no matter how much I knew she wanted me to. Knowing I was about to have another panic attack if I continued the conversation (because I knew it upset her), I hung up the phone and forced myself to just go to bed. When I got up, I had a message from Daisy: "Stop stressing. I wanted you to come because you'd have fun and yes, you would. But, getting worked up defeats the purpose."


The long version:
I haven't had a panic attack in about three years. I thought I was done with them, that I'd grown out of them or something like that. So when I had one tonight, and then almost had a second, I had to force myself to shut down. I had to run away, I had to get away from the situation, I had to. I know it disappointed her and probably greatly upset her for me to change my mind and tell her I couldn't do it, and it will probably disappoint Daisy's mother as well, but...I just can't. 

Let me explain.

I've mentioned here before that I am not a social person. There are many reasons I try not to leave the house unless I have to, and that even extends to groups of friends that I'm really comfortable with -- which is, most of the time, why I decline most invitations to go out and have fun or do anything with the people in the department (unless I otherwise can't afford to do so, which has been the prevailing reason as of late). I'm very awkward, I'm very anxious, I get on-edge, and when those feelings strike me I cannot shake them without getting away from the situation that's causing them. In this situation, were I to go, there would be no "escape route" for me to be able to get away. This may sound strange, but it is key to understanding my apprehensions.

The plan was that Daisy wanted to come down here tomorrow night (read: tonight, really, as it's Saturday now) after work, sleep here, and then she would take me back up to her family home for a few days on Sunday morning, returning down here on Tuesday morning. Daisy knows my car won't make it, knows I don't have gas money, for a trip like that anyway, and wanted to get me out of the house and around some fun people for the weekend, etc. This was very nice of her, actually -- it shows how much she cares about me as a friend, and how open and welcoming her family is to me, what with their willingness to feed and house me for three days. That means a lot to me, it really does. I can't and won't pretend that it doesn't. And if it were just Daisy and her parents? Yes, I'd still be apprehensive to a certain extent, but I'd quickly get over it.

It is not, however, just Daisy and her parents who will be there for the weekend. They're having some big family gathering of some sort where her sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins and the like are all coming in. A large number of people. People that I don't know. People that I would be introduced to, one-by-one, people who I'm sure are wonderfully nice, but people that I would have to explain to who I am and why I'm there, and people that I would be incredibly nervous and anxious around. I began thinking about that. I began thinking about the situation. I got really panicky, my heart started racing, and I had a full-blown panic attack, shaking and gasping for breath. So many things could go wrong, so many problems could arise, and I would have no way to escape the situation (as I wouldn't have my car with me). I had to change my mind, and when she called back on Skype a few minutes later I told her that I just couldn't do it. I couldn't put myself in that situation because I was just not that type of social person. I didn't want to upset her, I didn't want to disappoint her, but I just couldn't personally do it.

I could tell she was upset and disappointed, and rightfully so, when I told her I couldn't come, that I wouldn't come. She tried to hide it, but I know Daisy too well. I saw the look on her face, I saw it in her eyes. I couldn't look at the screen, and I was having a really hard time keeping my composure. I was about to have another panic attack, and I could feel it building. I quickly told her that I was sorry and that I had to go, that I had to go lay down, and hung up. And that's what I did. I immediately went downstairs and forced myself to go to bed. I wasn't even particularly tired, even though I'd had a long day (more on that later). I think the panic had worn me out, though, and I slept eventually. I slept until 2:30 in the morning.

I felt horrible. I still feel horrible. I hate disappointing or upsetting Daisy, hate disappointing her mother or her family or anyone else who was expecting and wanting to meet me. But I just...I can't do it. I can't. Part of it is because I've been in situations like this before, and I know how they always turn out for me -- badly. I know how I react in them: I collapse inward on myself like a dying star. I knew if I were in a social situation with that many people that I didn't know, that many people who would be looking at me, wondering who I was, asking me questions, trying to fit in...I now know that I would have another panic attack right there in the midst of them, in the yard or the house or wherever we were all congregated. It's not the people, it's the situation. I kept thinking about everything else that could've gone wrong -- if something happened to Daisy's car or I somehow otherwise got stranded there 200 miles from my home, I have $7 in my wallet, $33 in my bank account, and two basically maxed-out credit cards. I'd have no recourse, no way to get home. If I somehow offended or otherwise irritated her family members (or Daisy herself) I would still be stuck there until Tuesday. If I collapsed on myself like a dying star, as mentioned before, without an escape route I would just freak out.

As I said, it's not Daisy, it's not her family, it's not the people, it's the situation.

I am reminded -- and I hate to make the comparison here, but bear with me -- of all of the trips I made with my longtime ex to visit her family's home in Missouri over many years. I didn't have a car at the time, and we always took hers. She would want to stay for a week at a time, despite the fact that we would always have to leave the cats here at the house and I was constantly worried about whether they'd be too hot/cold (depending on the season) or if they'd have enough food and water. She'd always try to get an extra day or two out of the trip, regardless of how I felt about that, and every time I went there with her (especially the final two or three visits), something inevitably went wrong between me and one or more members of her family, and I told her that I wanted to go home, that I did not want to be around those people anymore, that I needed to get out of that situation because of what it did to me and my psyche. She ignored me, always chose her family over me, got pissed off at me, and I ended up holing myself up in the spare room or somewhere away from everyone else for the rest of the trip until she was ready to go. I could never escape, I could never leave and strike out on my own to go home, because I didn't have a car of my own -- but believe me, there were many times where, if I had a vehicle, I would've left. After a while I just stopped going with her on those trips. I told her I wasn't going to be trapped there anymore, that I wasn't going to be stuck in a situation I hated with people who couldn't care less whether or not I was there anyhow, and most of the time (especially near the end) I'm pretty sure they didn't exactly want me there. And I knew those people well.

It's not an accurate comparison, really. It's not. Daisy is nothing like my ex, and I'm quite sure her family is nothing like my ex's family was. But even in the best of situations I will still sometimes feel trapped, will still feel like I have no way out, and my panic will keep rising until it explodes. All of it is really difficult to explain to someone who has no experience with these sorts of anxiety issues or doesn't understand the concept of someone who does not mesh well with people for one reason or another. People will think it's simple standoffishness or snobbery when it's anything but. Believe me, I wish I could function normally and be the life of the party, the guy who's at the center of attention, but I can't. I'll never be able to do that.

Hell, in order for me to be able to tolerate the "party" my parents threw for me over Spring Break when I visited home, I had to drink about five beers first. Had to. I would've just holed up in my room otherwise, and those people were my close friends and family members. I was the "guest of honor," even. I just do not do well in gatherings or social situations. I just don't. It's like a low-level trauma for me. And I don't know why. I was never like this in high school or college, and was never really like this my first year or so of grad school except on very rare occasions. I don't know what it is. I don't know if there's something wrong with me or not, but over the past year or so, roughly, I've just developed a supreme abhorrence for social situations. It's like a switch flipped in my head, and I will now avoid them at all costs because of my anxiety and nervousness, my apprehensions. Friends, family, it doesn't matter. I can't handle it, I can't deal with it on some level that I can't even fully explain to myself, let alone anyone else. In case you couldn't tell, it is very difficult for me to write about here. It's not difficult in the baring-my-soul sense, because I do that here on a regular basis -- it's difficult in the this-doesn't-even-make-sense-to-me sense. And it's really just taken hold in this past year. Before that I was fine, I was normal. No, I didn't necessarily like most social situations (mainly because I found them to be boring or a waste of time) but they didn't cripple me like they do now.

If I can explain even a small part of it, it's probably because I'm not in any sort of social situation anymore, except rarely or for school reasons. I'm fine around my friends in the office, yes, because I'm there and I have to be there, and because I'm comfortable and know I can leave at any time. I'm fine in front of a classroom full of students, because I know they have to be there, and I am in control of the room, the commanding presence there. But I think part of it is that I don't have face-to-face interaction with anyone on a daily basis anymore. When my longtime ex left me and moved out, daily face-to-face interaction with anyone but me and the cats just stopped, and I began to withdraw like a turtle into its shell. It went away a little when Lady and I got together, but once she left me and we broke up as well, it came back full force and has been slowly building more and more since then. I think if there's any part of it I can explain, it's because I am, overall in life, fairly unhappy most of the time. I don't necessarily believe that things are going to get better for me (as I mentioned before, I am not a pessimist but a realist) and over the past few months I have become increasingly bitter and jaded.

I was telling Daisy about this last night. Daisy, obviously, is the best thing that's happened to me all summer. She is wonderful, she is endlessly sweet and loving and caring, and even though we are just friends, I am closer with her than probably anyone at this point (save for, say, my parents and people like Zedral). I have been watching my friends and family post things on Facebook, and I have been very slowly becoming increasingly bitter and jealous because, apparently, these people don't have problems, they're enjoying themselves and their summers, they're traveling and having fun and have money, etc.

I realize the irony in saying this when Daisy and her family offered me a weekend of fun and travel, yes, I do. That's not the point I'm trying to make.

That's part of the reason I've wanted to deactivate or delete my Facebook. I can't stand seeing everyone else have fun, enjoying their lives and being happy, when I don't and can't enjoy my own. Yes, I realize I have it so much better than like 80% of the people on the planet. I don't take for granted what I have, never want to, and never have. I know I've been very lucky just to be able to make it through this past month, even if I've had to make a lot of sacrifices and skip a few meals here and there just to be able to survive. I am indeed lucky, I am indeed grateful. But then I'll see status updates from friends who say things like "Look, I just bought a new car!" or "Which one of these $2k+ computers should I buy?" Or, if not that, things like "Look at me, I'm traveling the country because I don't have a job and don't need one because I have mommy and daddy's money!"

No, Daisy, that last one does not include you, of course.

I've mentioned before many times that I'm not depressed, and I'm not. I'm just becoming increasingly bitter, increasingly jaded. And really, really jealous of most people I know or see. There's a correlation here: as my life gets worse, everyone else's lives always seem that much better. Think of scales tipping one way, with me at the bottom end. So much bitterness, so much fear and anxiety. Each emotion feeds into the next, which feeds into the next and the next.

I've written a few posts here over the course of the past few days that I've gone back into and scrapped, deleted the drafts of, because I didn't want people to think that I was going to put a gun in my mouth or something like that (believe me, I'm not going to) but the central theme to most of them was that I desperately, desperately need something good to happen to me, and soon, to help snap me out of things, to let me see that yes, things may get better, if only a little bit. To give me a little hope. Somewhere along the way, I lost all hope for the future. It went away around the time when Lady and I broke up, I think, and then left completely when I started having all of my financial problems. It's still not come back. It probably won't unless something great happens, something remarkable happens, to bring it back. And as important as Daisy is to me, as great as she is and as wonderful as it is to have her in my life -- not to mention as sweet as her offer to spend the weekend with her and her family was and is, until I begin feeling like myself again and can actually function in a social setting with new people, lots of people, without collapsing in on myself and my neuroses, I just can't do it.

I can't tell you how much it bothers me that I can't do it, or how much I wish I could.

I hope that explains things somewhat. If that's possible.

In other news, I am now completely done teaching for the summer. All of my students' grades have been calculated and posted, and yesterday I dropped off all of their final exam booklets in the main office on campus. I am relatively responsibility-free until August 16th or so, which should be my "half day" of orientation for the fall semester, according to the department office yesterday. Most of the time between now and then I will probably be slipping into even more of a self-imposed exile, in order to get all of the important stuff done before the semester starts (like, for example, finishing up my thesis draft) and taking care of all of the important stuff around the house that I need to get done once my student loans come in. I'll also be able to get some sleep too, sleep that will come without the nagging thought that there are papers I should be grading or lesson plans I should be constructing. For example, right now it's 6:30 in the morning. It's supposed to be 106 this afternoon. I'm going to sleep through as much of that heat as possible, then get up and do the dishes and some light cooking/cleaning, probably. It's not glamorous or happy most of the time, but it's my life. And I keep reminding myself that until Friday, when I get paid again (for the last check of my summer salary) I just have to survive. I just have to get up every day, go about my tasks, and go back to bed at some point, six more times, until I can actually have enough money to be able to do something again to take my mind off of everything else.

Survival, Part I

(note: most of this has been written piecemeal and has been added to/edited around since Sunday night; I will be really busy for the rest of the week as I wrap up all of my summer grading and the like for my students, so any more writing here will have to wait until that's done -- and you'll probably not catch me on or around my computer much, either.)


As of around 3AM Monday morning, I have officially paid all of my bills for the month, and have paid the rent for August. I have $33.46 left in my checking account and $57 in cash in my wallet.

This is not something I look upon lightly, nor take lightly. Under normal circumstances, I would be celebrating, cracking open a beer, and sitting back saying to myself, "Well, Brandon, you survived." But I don't have normal circumstances anymore, really. I can't allow myself to relax, to get too complacent. I should have about $45 more to my name than I do, because two different business ventures/sales I was hoping for fell through. There was a time where I wouldn't have made it, a time where hope felt lost, and that on-edge feeling is still there. It's the monetary equivalent of looking around every corner for someone or some thing to pop up and figuratively destroy me again.

I did make it, however; I made the necessary sacrifices of selling my guitar and my DS games, and I used my ingenuity and talent for tie-dye to make an extra $50 in selling a few of them so that I could eat and put gas in the car. Yes, I owe my parents a little more money than I expected to, but I made it, I'll pay them back next month, and I'll get by. I'm not going to need $90 worth of food and gas in the car between now and August 3, which is when my final paycheck of the summer semester drops -- I should be okay. I am, as they say, comfortable enough. Yet, of course, I am still on-edge, as I said. I'm still closely watching my finances, closely watching and staying buckled down tight. I've gone without a lot of things to make it through this summer, whether those things are large (there have been several times I've just not eaten for a day or two, because I couldn't afford to) or small (like using Palmolive or cheap shampoo as laundry detergent because I couldn't/can't afford anything else). It's been rough; it's not been pleasant, but I've survived.

Also, to those of you who would chastise me for going hungry? Yeah, keep in mind that I'm a fatass and I need to lose weight anyway. That only helps, and it has helped. I'm pretty sure I've lost a good twenty pounds this summer just because I haven't been able to buy all of the awful-for-me foods that I normally would. I look good; I feel fine. Don't judge me for being too prideful to ask for help or the like, please; if I'm really starving there's always something in the pantry I can eat, always. I'm not that destitute.

For example, this was my dinner last night:

That's a panini, made with bread baked by Daisy's mother, vegan "beef tips" and spinach brought to me weeks ago by Daisy herself, and cheese I purchased from Walmart. It was amazing.

See? I eat. I eat just fine. You don't have to worry about me.

This week -- Tomorrow night, actually -- I give my students their final exam, and my ten weeks of summer teaching will officially end. I will spend the rest of the week and probably the weekend grading their final assignments and the exams, and posting their grades on Banner as soon as I can. I have about four weeks before classes start again for the fall, roughly, and in that time I will be finishing the rest of my thesis, taking care of stuff around the house, and preparing as much as I can for the fall semester. I have not yet counted myself as fully out of the red and into the black, so to speak, so during that time I may be making a run over to Hutchinson (even if I have to do it by myself) to sell all the games and DVDs I can as well, especially if other unexpected expenses or delays in pay/student loans pop up over the course of the next two weeks or so. Last year the fall loans came in on August 13 and the spring loans on January 7. I believe each time they came in about ten days before class started, which means I should expect them to come in this time around August 10 or so, as class starts on the 20th. I'm pretty sure everything should be fine.

I haven't even thought about my fall classes all summer, nor have I looked up the books I will need for them to see how much they can and will cost. I have, of course, been pretty fucking preoccupied, as you've probably gathered, with what has basically been my worst summer ever. I've barely plotted out my schedule for the work week, even (I just tried to do that earlier this week, though I can't plot any office hours or anything until I know when I'll be teaching, which I don't yet). I do know that more than likely, I won't have a three-day schedule anymore, and that I'll be driving to and from campus four days a week just because of the times/days the classes I'm taking will fall on. I haven't even updated or made tweaks to my teaching syllabus for the fall yet, because I'm so far removed from everything that I can't think about it yet. I really just want to curl up under a proverbial rock for a week or so after I finish teaching and grading, and let the world pass me by for a while. I may do that, actually.

I did find out, however, that I will be grading my exams myself, without a grading partner (which is very nice, as I hate working on the schedule of someone else) and that I will be able to just be done with them after I'm done grading. I'll calculate all the grades, post them on Banner, turn in the exam booklets to the office, and be finished with any and all teaching-related things for almost a month. That feeling is more freeing than almost anything else has been this summer. The bad thing is that I have to put 50 more miles on the car to make an extraneous trip to Wichita to drop said exams off at the office later this week -- an hour's worth of driving, roughly, in 100+ degree heat, for a five-minute excursion to the department office.

Let's see, what else has been going on?

Well, ever since I deleted my profile from OkCupid, I've had women throwing themselves at me from every direction, basically. All are women that, surprisingly enough, I know already.

Oh, sweet irony.

I have deflected all of these attempts, really. I mean, really, I have. I am so not in the right frame of mind to even think about anything truly romantic right now, nor do I really want to. Aside from my financial situation being in the proverbial shitter, I've had a really rough last several months emotionally and spiritually, as most of you already know. I've mentioned before that I am rapidly approaching full hermitude, and it's probably for the best right now, really.

So yes, Daisy, you can put your claws away.

Ahem.

I am of the mindset right now that school and my own life has to come first, for the most part. I have a year left in this hellhole state before I can leave it (hopefully), and despite all these women trying to bed me (I'm so not kidding about that), I have pushed them away, and am devoted to taking care of all of my important stuff first. My third and final year of grad school will be no pleasure cruise, and I have to remember that I am in school for a reason -- to get my degree -- even if that degree may end up meaning precisely dick in the real world. If something romantic with someone happens in that time, that's fine, but I'm so not actively looking, nor do I want to. As much as I will hate turning thirty as a single man with no wife or family, those are so the last things on my mind as I finish up my degree. I have friends, what few of them are left, and that's all I need.

I have thought about the whole "turning thirty" thing a lot. Especially as of late. That's usually the age where everything changes for a person, where they start acting like an adult; their personality changes, they realize they're a real grown-up, start dressing more adult-like, etc. I am so not letting that happen to me. Fuck that noise. As I told Zedral last night, "I don't think I will ever dress age-appropriately. I plan to wear tie-dye and comic-book t-shirts, cargo pants, board shorts and flip-flops/Chucks until I die."

I do. That's not a lie. Screw that whole "grown-up" thing. I like being me. Regardless of age. I don't like anything "age appropriate" anyway. I'm a nerd. This should be evident. Tomorrow, when I give my students their final exam, I'll be wearing a blue-and-fuchsia tie-dye shirt, a pair of black cargo shorts, and rubber flip-flops. I plan to listen to podcasts in my earbuds the entire time they're taking their exam.

Anyway...yes, school and where I'll be next year at this time has to take precedence right now. I have to focus on this next year and where that year takes me, if anywhere.

Some of you, especially the guys reading this blog, are probably thinking dude, you have women throwing themselves at you when you're basically a hermit and perpetually lonely and bored, and you're not taking advantage of this fact? No, I'm not, because I'm not an idiot, and don't regard such things so shallowly. I've never been that guy who bones everything that moves, and never wanted to be. Still don't. Over the course of the past year or so I've learned that while I can trust other people to a certain extent, the only person I can trust fully, ever, is myself. I know that I'm not going to lie to myself, cheat on myself, go nuts on myself, or try to change myself in any way from what I am. Only I can offer myself complete stability and fidelity, peace and quiet, serenity, etc., and on my own terms, at that. At this stage of my life, these things are very, very important. They're what will get me through this next year, what will get me wherever I end up afterwards, even if that's living in a dingy studio apartment in Morgantown with my three cats and no hope for a future outside of working menial retail jobs.

I am, above all else, a realist. I've mentioned this before. I made the mistake, when I graduated from WVU all those years ago, of thinking that a bachelor's degree would automatically make me desirable for the job market. I got a wakeup call, and was sorely disappointed when I found that about the best I could do was continue working in the Microbiology lab I'd worked in for over four years at that point, and get a job at the local grocery store. I will not make that bright-eyed, bushy-tailed mistake when I graduate with my MFA -- I already know that the job market for my degree, while it exists, is very highly competitive and almost nonexistent to begin with, and I know that I have really, really shitty luck. And while many women in my life, for some reason, think I'm attractive (I really don't understand that one) and want me, there is one reason above most others that I have pushed them all away.

It's because I don't want to drag one of them down with me.

Again, folks, realism. I have no fucking clue, no idea what I'll be doing or where I'll be at this time next year. I will have a very specialized degree that is useless outside of a very specialized field, when most people I know were smart enough to get degrees that may actually benefit them in real life or practical application. I'm getting mine because I can write and because it gave me a guaranteed GTA job for three years -- that's it. Why would I want to drag someone down with me if I ultimately fail at life? Because, and I don't care what you say, that is a very real possibility.

Everyone I've told this to says I have nothing to worry about, that everything will work itself out, and that I'm just being pessimistic. No, really, I'm not. I know the difference between pessimism and realism, even if at times it can be a thin line. Not everyone is successful or ends up being successful. They just don't. Look at my home state of West Virginia, where many, many people there are on food stamps just to be able to eat, including those with Master's degrees. It happens, it isn't farfetched.

When I moved out here to the midwest in 2006, for my ex, I ended up dragging her down for a long time. It took me almost three months to get a job, and another month after that before I could get an apartment. I was living in a hotel paying $161 a week (money that I didn't really have to spare) just to survive. When we moved to Kansas three years later, it took me even longer to find a job then, and I ended up dragging her down even more, and reducing my bank account to, at it's lowest, $1.04. I don't want to do that again, not to anyone. Most importantly, I don't want to do it to someone I love, someone who loves me. Why would I put anyone through that, through dealing with me actively failing at life? I at least have the choice this time, as I'm not attached to anyone, to only fail myself and not anyone else. That is why school, and myself, must come first. If I fail at life I'm going to fail at it alone, and at least know I gave it a fair shot.

If I somehow fall ass-backwards into some good luck, however (unlikely, but it could happen), I'll become a bit more optimistic. But right now I am a steely-eyed realist. It's not that I want to live in a van down by the river, I'm just saying that it could certainly fucking happen whether I want it to or not. While I hope for the best, obviously, I have to prep for the worst, even if at this point it's only mental preparation.

So, so many of you will find this post depressing -- or, as Zedral told me earlier, will want to "put me on suicide watch" because of it. I'm not depressed or suicidal at all, really not. Why would I be? I am, truth be told, in a good mood right now, and I'm actually fairly content with my life at the moment, financial stuff aside. This summer, however, as horrible as it's been, has had some positives to it -- I've been able to see things a lot more clearly in many cases. I've learned who my true friends are and which ones were only fair-weather friends putting up a mask, and I've realized how many things can go wrong at the same time, and how to deal with those things. I've learned (even though I already knew) that only I am truly responsible for myself and my actions, whether those actions are immediate or stem from choices made long, long ago, and I've learned more than anything else that I want to get the fuck out of this miserable state as soon as I can. Hell, I want to get out of the midwest, period.

There aren't any beaches here, for one, and for two it's 105 every day in the summer and -10 every day in the winter. With wind that never stops.

Oh, and most of the women out here are the ones who decided it was a good idea, for their OkCupid photos, to take pictures of themselves with their farm animals. I wish I was making that up.

Yeah, that's another reason I deleted my account there.

Anyway.

I call this "Part I" because my friend Adam sent me a long Facebook message this afternoon as part of our first collaborative effort that I'm going to quote parts of for my next post here at some point soon. It relates to a lot of the stuff I've written here as of late, and I'll have to go through it piece by piece to dissect it and correct grammar/spelling/punctuation, etc. It'll just take some time -- this is going to be a very long, rough, expensive ten days or so, and right now I just have to buckle down and take care of business.