So I don’t really feel like writing about what’s going on today (because nothing is, I’m pretty boring), so instead I thought I’d tell an old story like I talked about doing earlier this week. I’ll do it on Wednesdays or Thursdays generally.
I had a vivid imagination when I was a wee lad. Vivid! I was always chattering on about how I had seen all these wild creatures and aliens and whatnot. It’s a miracle I wasn’t eventually medicated.
Anyway, I remember one winter day ( I love the random things we remember). It was snowing, very heavily. Huge amounts of snow (note: as I get older I have come to realize that the amount of snow seemed larger because I was so much shorter at the time, it’s all relative). Basically, it was snowing, and a few inches had accumulated.
So I was playing a game in which invisible insects were fighting us humans (lucky for all of you I “won”). The insects were hiding just a few inches under the snow, lying in wait. Well my mother (bless her soul) came out to see what I was doing, and to see if she could aid in the struggle. I said she could, and explained where the evil insects were hiding. She, as adults will do, asked if we should try to find one. I agreed.
Picking a random point in the corner of the front yard, I dug a few inches under the snow and found… a wasp! A real, recently alive, wasp had been buried in the snow and I just happened to dig down to it.
Imagine, a young boy, who had imagined that there were bugs under the snow, who then miraculously managed to dig one up! You can guess my reaction.
Yeah, I ran like hell. I may have screamed. It was a long time ago, don’t judge me.
I swam yesterday. I haven’t gone for a good swim in a while and it really is a fantastic workout. The downside? Right now I hurt in places where I didn’t know I had muscles (apparently I do, weak little ones that are screaming in pain). Plus, if you think my body is unhappy now, just wait until you see how it feels after I run 5 miles during lunch.
Swimming, combined with a very nice post by Magda, led me to do some reminiscing about an old friend. We grew up next door to each other and were very close for years. We used to be the first ones into the lake near our house every year, and the last ones out (no small feat in Northern New England). This normally meant swimming as soon as the ice was gone in April and swimming again in November. Of course, by “swimming” I mean “dashing out and throwing ourselves under the freezing cold water before running back to shore and shivering for an hour.” Later on, while taking a lifeguarding course, I would recognize what happened to us as being indicative of hypothermia, but back then it was just fun. This friend and I aren’t as close anymore, which is sad. We drifted in college and never got out friendship back, even after a few things (living near each other, her marrying a good friend of mine) that I thought would bring us closer. The memories are still great though.
In other news, TODAY IS THE DAY! I mean, wow! As soon as I’m done with things this afternoon I’m jumping in the car and heading out (paying no attention to some sort of storm that might be barreling in on a certain someone’s house). Nervous does not begin to describe me right now, but I’m packed and I know what I’m wearing (huge dork that I am) and cannot wait to get there. Can you feel the excitement?
I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend, wish me luck!
I think K was supposed to be a rebound. I was just out of a serious relationship. I was also drunk, which is my preferred method for getting over a relationship. Some people cry, some people eat, I drink. Beer and whiskey. To each their own.
So there I was, a week out of my relationship with B. At an end of the semester party at one of my favorite bars, chatting with K (the cousin of a friend from school). I was drunk, she was cute, suddenly we were making out. In a bar. I’m pretty much pure class.
The beginning was pretty much like that night. A lot of drinking together, a lot of hookups, and suddenly we were exclusive and things were getting serious. I don’t know how it happened, but somehow we were suddenly spending the majority of our time together, meeting the respective families, and making plans for the future. For an accidental relationship, things were going swimmingly.
The first year was easy. We saw each other all the time, went to baseball games, had some great vacations. Generally things were easy.
The second year got tougher. I took a lot of classes that I didn’t know anything about, so I had to do some actual studying. This transitioned into bar exam studying. The bar sucked. So basically I locked myself in the library and studied, every night. Two months wouldn’t be too much, right?
We fought more that summer, but things were ok. We planned a two week vacation for after the exam which was great. Exactly what we needed. Things were back on track. I got a few interviews around the country.
This is where things got complicated. And by complicated I of course mean horribly bad. I’m a reservist, and it was that magical time of year where I do my two weeks of training. I set interviews up so I would fly from base directly to the first round, and then spend the next few weeks bouncing around. All told, I was going to be gone for 4 weeks.
I wasn’t worried at all. Things were great, and having a good job was certainly going to be an added plus. We had a big talk the night before I left, and decided to start looking for engagement rings when I got home. All was well in the world.
The first week apart was pretty easy. The second week K was moody and quiet. The third week she was just nasty. I had absolutely no idea what was going on, which isn’t necessarily a new experience, but still uncomfortable. By the fourth week I had gotten the “we need to talk when you get home.” Fan-tastic.
Needless to say, I arrived home a little less than excited. We were supposed to be shopping for engagement rings. Instead I got a story. About how K ran into her deadbeat ex at a party. The one she dumped because he had no ambition and a healthy fear of commitment. They got to talking, and drinking, and sleeping together. For three weeks. Now they were getting back together. When could I move my stuff out?
So there’s that story. And two months later? Feeling better, but that still sucks.
