So, here's the deal. I think I'm falling for Vinny. He is in love with me. We've had lots of conversations about this. It's official and he admitted it sober. I also admitted sober that I think I'm falling in love with him. Here's my dilemma: am I really falling in love with him? Or is it the possibility of love with someone who is crazy about me?
I still am not his girlfriend. Why? I've boiled it down to this: Sometimes he irritates the hell out of me by doing stupid things when drinking too much. I feel he drinks too much and still likes to party too much. I think he isn't mature enough. I fear he will have a mid-20's meltdown and leave me single again. I am afraid if I commit then I open myself up to the possibility of breaking up again and getting hurt. I fear I won't get hurt and we could get married. I think maybe I could be with someone better for me. He's too young, as we both graduated in 2006--me from college and him from high school. He dated a former student of mine. He was taught by some of my fellow teacher students. Beer pong is not fun for me every weekend--it seems to be for him. I don't want to be judged for whatever reason for dating him. I don't want to hurt him the way I've been hurt--however, I fear it's too late now. We'll both be hurt, whether I want to admit it or not.
So, yes, this is my dilemma...I don't know what to do. I won't commit to him. He's okay with it, but I don't know how much longer that will last. There really aren't any other men. Andy from work is still flirty, but nothing. Other guy asked me on a date but it hasn't happened yet. I just don't know....
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Ummm...really two different guys...in 8 months...
Okay, I've been single for 8 months. In that time, TWO different men have confessed their love for me. Both of them got the same response from me!
One: Ryan. He's Brandon's brother. Yikes...talk about a BAD situation.
Two: Vinny. He confessed on Friday night and doesn't remember.
Here's the story:
Friday night: I go to Vinny's house late, at around 10ish. I was with my sister and her fiance. He is already drunk. I am not. I haven't had one drink all night and I'm exhausted. He convinces me to go to his room (not a hard sell, as I'm ready for that, too). Post coitus (I'm laughing for using that term): he gives me the oddest look.
I ask him, "What's that look about?"
"Nothing," he says.
"That's not nothing. Tell me. Seriously...you're being weird."
"I've learned the hard way over the past few weeks I should just keep my thoughts inside."
"Um...no...tell me now."
"I'm sorry in advance." Big dramatic shutting of the eyes. (I think holy shit, he's going to pass out.)
"Just tell me, it's okay."
"I love you, Jervaise."
Deep breath...shut my eyes...kiss his forehead. "No, you don't, Vinny. You don't really even know me. You love the thought of me."
Vinny passes out. I leave him snoring in his room.
I ask him on Saturday night:
"Do you remember what you said last night?"
"No. Shit. Did I say something stupid? What did I do?"
"Nothing. Don't worry about it."
So, yes, I'm avoiding the topic. I love taking the aversion and mature route.
I like him. He makes me smile. He's sweet and makes me feel good about myself. I like the sex. I am NOT ready for love, though. I am not sure when I will be. Fuck! Why can he love me? It's been three months! Crimney. Am I really that lovable? Jeesh...
Another note: I'm probably filing for bankruptcy. I'm trying to see a lawyer on Friday. I also might sue Brandon. Yep, this is my life at 26.
One: Ryan. He's Brandon's brother. Yikes...talk about a BAD situation.
Two: Vinny. He confessed on Friday night and doesn't remember.
Here's the story:
Friday night: I go to Vinny's house late, at around 10ish. I was with my sister and her fiance. He is already drunk. I am not. I haven't had one drink all night and I'm exhausted. He convinces me to go to his room (not a hard sell, as I'm ready for that, too). Post coitus (I'm laughing for using that term): he gives me the oddest look.
I ask him, "What's that look about?"
"Nothing," he says.
"That's not nothing. Tell me. Seriously...you're being weird."
"I've learned the hard way over the past few weeks I should just keep my thoughts inside."
"Um...no...tell me now."
"I'm sorry in advance." Big dramatic shutting of the eyes. (I think holy shit, he's going to pass out.)
"Just tell me, it's okay."
"I love you, Jervaise."
Deep breath...shut my eyes...kiss his forehead. "No, you don't, Vinny. You don't really even know me. You love the thought of me."
Vinny passes out. I leave him snoring in his room.
I ask him on Saturday night:
"Do you remember what you said last night?"
"No. Shit. Did I say something stupid? What did I do?"
"Nothing. Don't worry about it."
So, yes, I'm avoiding the topic. I love taking the aversion and mature route.
I like him. He makes me smile. He's sweet and makes me feel good about myself. I like the sex. I am NOT ready for love, though. I am not sure when I will be. Fuck! Why can he love me? It's been three months! Crimney. Am I really that lovable? Jeesh...
Another note: I'm probably filing for bankruptcy. I'm trying to see a lawyer on Friday. I also might sue Brandon. Yep, this is my life at 26.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The funk of late...
Well, Brandon, if you have three boyfriends...I guess I'm not as overwhelmed as you, but this will be about three boys...ha!
Lately, I feel like I'm in a complete funk. I can't describe it. I can't make anyone understand. I feel utterly and completely unhappy most of the time. This cannot be a healthy feeling, but it is how I feel. I feel upset with me. Personally. Mentally. Physically. I'm not happy.
I suppose most of these feeling relate to the past week, or so. The first week after sex with the guy from work, all was normal. Nothing had changed. However, last week he got all weird. I can't handle weird. It makes me crazy. I do not understand when things get weird, when they shouldn't. Whatever. Then, this week, he's all normal. It's too odd...and frustrates me.
Then, last Thursday, I started thinking about Andy. Andy was the guy I dated with the daughter when Brandon and I broke up the first time in the spring of '08. My friends and I were talking about life and he came up. I guess he had it bad for me...and I genuinely really like him, but my stupid feeling for the asshole were too strong and I left him. I guess he was crazy about me. Now, I can't help but wonder if I made the wrong choice. I know all of life leads us on the path we are supposed to take. I'm a firm believer in that; however, I think I made the wrong choice with Andy. He's back with his ex now, or at least they had just broke up when we dated. Ugh. Why do I make the most ridiculous choices? Why do I always want what I can't have?
Lastly, Vinny confuses me. I like him. He's a good guy. He's the guy I should choose. So why can't I? I think there is something keeping me from picking him. I like him and want to be with him, but in the end, I struggle with him. Last weekend, I had heartburn when I was with him. It was intense. It's like my body is telling me something I can't deal with. But, I still like being with him and being his friend. Maybe because he's the only "steady" guy right now. I don't know. I do know I fear being unfair with him. I don't want to do that, but sometimes I wonder if I am or not.
Also, last weekend, I made a choice to do something I've always wanted to try, but never have. I fear writing on here about this until this is private. However, when that goes down...you're in for a treat. :)
Maybe my problem is I'm not happy with me. So, I look to others to make me happy. I know that others cannot make me happy; at least I know this on some fundamental level. Maybe I feel like the only way I have worth is if I am with someone. I don't know--have you noticed that phrase is my trend of this post? I'm truthfully seriously considering a therapist and getting on medicine for depression. I think it would help. The last time I took that stuff though, I was 18 and felt like a zombie. I don't want that again, but I think it's more formulated for adults. I hate the thought of depending on something like that for my happiness, but, lately, I wonder if that is the only way. Maybe I'm working too much. Maybe I need to exercise more and eat healthier. I don't know.
All I know for certain is ugh...bleh...life...
Lately, I feel like I'm in a complete funk. I can't describe it. I can't make anyone understand. I feel utterly and completely unhappy most of the time. This cannot be a healthy feeling, but it is how I feel. I feel upset with me. Personally. Mentally. Physically. I'm not happy.
I suppose most of these feeling relate to the past week, or so. The first week after sex with the guy from work, all was normal. Nothing had changed. However, last week he got all weird. I can't handle weird. It makes me crazy. I do not understand when things get weird, when they shouldn't. Whatever. Then, this week, he's all normal. It's too odd...and frustrates me.
Then, last Thursday, I started thinking about Andy. Andy was the guy I dated with the daughter when Brandon and I broke up the first time in the spring of '08. My friends and I were talking about life and he came up. I guess he had it bad for me...and I genuinely really like him, but my stupid feeling for the asshole were too strong and I left him. I guess he was crazy about me. Now, I can't help but wonder if I made the wrong choice. I know all of life leads us on the path we are supposed to take. I'm a firm believer in that; however, I think I made the wrong choice with Andy. He's back with his ex now, or at least they had just broke up when we dated. Ugh. Why do I make the most ridiculous choices? Why do I always want what I can't have?
Lastly, Vinny confuses me. I like him. He's a good guy. He's the guy I should choose. So why can't I? I think there is something keeping me from picking him. I like him and want to be with him, but in the end, I struggle with him. Last weekend, I had heartburn when I was with him. It was intense. It's like my body is telling me something I can't deal with. But, I still like being with him and being his friend. Maybe because he's the only "steady" guy right now. I don't know. I do know I fear being unfair with him. I don't want to do that, but sometimes I wonder if I am or not.
Also, last weekend, I made a choice to do something I've always wanted to try, but never have. I fear writing on here about this until this is private. However, when that goes down...you're in for a treat. :)
Maybe my problem is I'm not happy with me. So, I look to others to make me happy. I know that others cannot make me happy; at least I know this on some fundamental level. Maybe I feel like the only way I have worth is if I am with someone. I don't know--have you noticed that phrase is my trend of this post? I'm truthfully seriously considering a therapist and getting on medicine for depression. I think it would help. The last time I took that stuff though, I was 18 and felt like a zombie. I don't want that again, but I think it's more formulated for adults. I hate the thought of depending on something like that for my happiness, but, lately, I wonder if that is the only way. Maybe I'm working too much. Maybe I need to exercise more and eat healthier. I don't know.
All I know for certain is ugh...bleh...life...
Monday, September 20, 2010
Well, I might as well post here. If anybody reads this, I wouldn't mind some feedback. I may just be a bit out of control right now. I think I have three boyfriends. I smoke now . . . like a chimney. I've lost forty pounds. I'm really happy, but all of these things seem to indicate that I shouldn't be . . . am I in a tailspin?
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Of the thirty or so gay men I've had contact with in Korea, it might be revealing to take a look at the statistics.
Men I've actually met in person: 13
Men I've had some sort of sexual contact with: 7
Men I've had some sort of satisfying sexual contact with: 2
Men I've had sexual contact with more than once: 1
Totally into me, but not attractive for one reason or another: 2
I'm totally into them, but not attracted to me for one reason or another: 2
Mutually unattracted: 2
Language barrier makes it impossible to tell who is attracted to whom: 1
Men I've had to travel to another city to meet: 11
Number of other cities in Korea I've traveled to just to meet a man: 4
Men who have traveled to my city to meet me: 1
Some kind of spark, but not worth the travel: 3
"Oh, did I forget to mention that I have a boyfriend already?": 5
"Oh, I have a boyfriend, but let's fuck anyway": 3
Super sweet, and kind of attractive, so still a contender: 1
Dates set up for this week: 2 (not counting today's--see "boyfriend", above)
Not terrible odds, I guess. Still, a pretty inefficient market. Currently a bit discouraged. If these guys later this week don't pan out, I'll lay off for a while--but I always say that . . .
Men I've actually met in person: 13
Men I've had some sort of sexual contact with: 7
Men I've had some sort of satisfying sexual contact with: 2
Men I've had sexual contact with more than once: 1
Totally into me, but not attractive for one reason or another: 2
I'm totally into them, but not attracted to me for one reason or another: 2
Mutually unattracted: 2
Language barrier makes it impossible to tell who is attracted to whom: 1
Men I've had to travel to another city to meet: 11
Number of other cities in Korea I've traveled to just to meet a man: 4
Men who have traveled to my city to meet me: 1
Some kind of spark, but not worth the travel: 3
"Oh, did I forget to mention that I have a boyfriend already?": 5
"Oh, I have a boyfriend, but let's fuck anyway": 3
Super sweet, and kind of attractive, so still a contender: 1
Dates set up for this week: 2 (not counting today's--see "boyfriend", above)
Not terrible odds, I guess. Still, a pretty inefficient market. Currently a bit discouraged. If these guys later this week don't pan out, I'll lay off for a while--but I always say that . . .
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Fuck, I'm ridiculous....
Sometimes, I wonder if I've lost my moral compass. Lately, I find myself doing things I never thought I'd do...but here I am...doing them and not giving a damn. I wonder what that means? Have I lost my moral compass after all? I hope not.
Eight months ago, life was so black and white for me. Right and wrong. I did what was "right" all the time, and look where that got me? A whole lotta nowhere. Now, I'm tired of that bullshit. I live in a world of grey now. I love it here. However, I do sometimes wonder if the choices I am making are bad...and if they have been since I moved home.
Vinny is still crazy about me. I'm still the bitch that won't be his girlfriend. Hey, I gave him fair warning. I only hope he doesn't fall in love with me. I can't handle that shit right now. I keep telling him that I just don't want a boyfriend right now, which is completely true. I'm not in a place where I can be in a relationship. I just don't want it. I don't just want sex either, but I want something in between, but I can't figure out for the life of me what that is. I feel bad for the kid, and kid he is, at 22. I feel like in the long run, do I really want someone that much younger than me? I don't know. It's a dilemma I frequently face.
Now, there's a new boy in the mix. Or rather, he's been in the mix for some time. I suppose I've always harbored a crush on him, but we work together, and he made his thoughts about a workplace romance clear: it never goes well. I agree with this sentiment, although, I've never actually dated a colleague before. Fast-forward three months. We hang out frequently; everyone at work thinks we are dating, to which I am constantly stating we are not. Sure, he sends me the mixed messages, but all of those were made astonishingly clear on Friday night. Clearly, he likes me...or he just wanted sex. I'm going with likes me, because it makes me feel less slutty, which is important right now to me. I fear what seeing him at work now will be like. Will it be awkward? I hope not. I assume it will be much of the same for us, or I hope so. We've both talked at length about what we want from a "relationship" and that is really not a relationship. We both just want someone to have sex with, someone to cuddle with occasionally, but not have to answer to. Before it went down, I did ask him to think about if that was what he wanted, referring to his statement on workplace romance. His response, "well, we really don't work together anymore, and everyone already thinks we're fucking." Both of these are true and logical, so I went ahead with it. Oddly enough, I don't feel guilty. I should feel supremely slutty, but I don't. It's weird. As I left the next morning, he kissed me, on the cheek, and probably would've on the lips, but I hugged him instead. I don't know how not to be awkward afterwards; I'm ridiculous like that. He's texted me a few times this weekend, which is more than normal, so I guess that bodes well. We shall see....I hope not to lose him though, as I think he's closer to someone I'd want to be with than anyone has in a long time.
Meanwhile, I work all the time. Tomorrow, in fact, which bums me out. I'm needing to start working out...I need to find that motivation. If I could wake up at 5:30 am three times a week and go for a run, I think I'd feel better about myself. If I'm going to start this tomorrow, I should head to bed.
Eight months ago, life was so black and white for me. Right and wrong. I did what was "right" all the time, and look where that got me? A whole lotta nowhere. Now, I'm tired of that bullshit. I live in a world of grey now. I love it here. However, I do sometimes wonder if the choices I am making are bad...and if they have been since I moved home.
Vinny is still crazy about me. I'm still the bitch that won't be his girlfriend. Hey, I gave him fair warning. I only hope he doesn't fall in love with me. I can't handle that shit right now. I keep telling him that I just don't want a boyfriend right now, which is completely true. I'm not in a place where I can be in a relationship. I just don't want it. I don't just want sex either, but I want something in between, but I can't figure out for the life of me what that is. I feel bad for the kid, and kid he is, at 22. I feel like in the long run, do I really want someone that much younger than me? I don't know. It's a dilemma I frequently face.
Now, there's a new boy in the mix. Or rather, he's been in the mix for some time. I suppose I've always harbored a crush on him, but we work together, and he made his thoughts about a workplace romance clear: it never goes well. I agree with this sentiment, although, I've never actually dated a colleague before. Fast-forward three months. We hang out frequently; everyone at work thinks we are dating, to which I am constantly stating we are not. Sure, he sends me the mixed messages, but all of those were made astonishingly clear on Friday night. Clearly, he likes me...or he just wanted sex. I'm going with likes me, because it makes me feel less slutty, which is important right now to me. I fear what seeing him at work now will be like. Will it be awkward? I hope not. I assume it will be much of the same for us, or I hope so. We've both talked at length about what we want from a "relationship" and that is really not a relationship. We both just want someone to have sex with, someone to cuddle with occasionally, but not have to answer to. Before it went down, I did ask him to think about if that was what he wanted, referring to his statement on workplace romance. His response, "well, we really don't work together anymore, and everyone already thinks we're fucking." Both of these are true and logical, so I went ahead with it. Oddly enough, I don't feel guilty. I should feel supremely slutty, but I don't. It's weird. As I left the next morning, he kissed me, on the cheek, and probably would've on the lips, but I hugged him instead. I don't know how not to be awkward afterwards; I'm ridiculous like that. He's texted me a few times this weekend, which is more than normal, so I guess that bodes well. We shall see....I hope not to lose him though, as I think he's closer to someone I'd want to be with than anyone has in a long time.
Meanwhile, I work all the time. Tomorrow, in fact, which bums me out. I'm needing to start working out...I need to find that motivation. If I could wake up at 5:30 am three times a week and go for a run, I think I'd feel better about myself. If I'm going to start this tomorrow, I should head to bed.
Friday, July 30, 2010
How to Teach Little Shits
I'm going to write a teaching book, and this is going to be the title. Here's something that might be in the introduction:
I hate teaching movies. I have hated them ever since I became a teacher. To the civilian, the are no doubt inspirational, moving, blah blah, but I have always walked away from them feeling insulted. The formula is well known: an idealistic teacher is entrusted with a class of difficult students, students on whom others have given up. Bonus points if the kids are disadvantaged.
Through her or his optimism, determination and creativity, the teacher finds a way to relate to the students, and they accept her or him as their mentor. The establishment tries to get the teacher to conform, but she or he prevails and everybody gets diplomas and motivational speaking engagements at the end.
Cinematically, it's a fine formula. These movies give me a feeling similar to those billboards that have a picture of Gandhi or King or somebody and a tagline along the lines of "Determination: pass it on." I'm sure the buyers of those billboards mean well, but they may as well read "Why aren't you this good?" In the same way, the hidden message of teaching movies, even and especially those based on true stories, is "See? It's not so hard. Even this first year teachers can deal with little shits and change their lives. Why can't you do that?"
So I have avoided those movies since I started teaching. You see, I teach little shits. I say this in the most endearing way, but let's be frank; when a kid tells you to go fuck yourself in the middle of class while you are being evaluated by your principal, that kid is, indeed, a little shit. When a kid tells you she or he didn't do her or his work because they were too busy getting high, "little shit" is the perfect term. This is the kid I have taught for my entire career, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
It is for others to decided how little shits got that way. Each example is unique, and may well have a terrible back story that would make your hair stand up. Such is not the province of this book. Instead, I hope to offer you some things that have worked in my experience. Don't get me wrong; I am not Teacher Movie material. Those teachers don't exist, even the ones upon whose lives those movies are based. A veteran teacher told me early in my career, "A good teacher uses brief and rare moments of teaching bliss to get through frequent and crushing defeats." The problem with teaching movies is that they cram ten years worth of teaching bliss--those glorious moments when a kid is at a crossroads and you manage to give her or him a little nudge in the right direction--into a couple of hours, when they are really rather rare. Nonetheless, I am an observant fellow, and I have noticed that a few little things that can get a seemingly intractable kid to let her or his guard down just enough to learn something.
It's a shame that teaching movies are such bullshit. The reality of it is that none of us reach every kid, or even most, and every time that you can't tears you up. This book can't change that, but maybe some of my suggestions can tip the odds a little bit. If you manage to tip even one kid onto the right path in your career, you deserve a movie and a billboard, and the experience will be such pure, overflowing light that you won't even care that you don't get either one.
Brandon Payne
I hate teaching movies. I have hated them ever since I became a teacher. To the civilian, the are no doubt inspirational, moving, blah blah, but I have always walked away from them feeling insulted. The formula is well known: an idealistic teacher is entrusted with a class of difficult students, students on whom others have given up. Bonus points if the kids are disadvantaged.
Through her or his optimism, determination and creativity, the teacher finds a way to relate to the students, and they accept her or him as their mentor. The establishment tries to get the teacher to conform, but she or he prevails and everybody gets diplomas and motivational speaking engagements at the end.
Cinematically, it's a fine formula. These movies give me a feeling similar to those billboards that have a picture of Gandhi or King or somebody and a tagline along the lines of "Determination: pass it on." I'm sure the buyers of those billboards mean well, but they may as well read "Why aren't you this good?" In the same way, the hidden message of teaching movies, even and especially those based on true stories, is "See? It's not so hard. Even this first year teachers can deal with little shits and change their lives. Why can't you do that?"
So I have avoided those movies since I started teaching. You see, I teach little shits. I say this in the most endearing way, but let's be frank; when a kid tells you to go fuck yourself in the middle of class while you are being evaluated by your principal, that kid is, indeed, a little shit. When a kid tells you she or he didn't do her or his work because they were too busy getting high, "little shit" is the perfect term. This is the kid I have taught for my entire career, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
It is for others to decided how little shits got that way. Each example is unique, and may well have a terrible back story that would make your hair stand up. Such is not the province of this book. Instead, I hope to offer you some things that have worked in my experience. Don't get me wrong; I am not Teacher Movie material. Those teachers don't exist, even the ones upon whose lives those movies are based. A veteran teacher told me early in my career, "A good teacher uses brief and rare moments of teaching bliss to get through frequent and crushing defeats." The problem with teaching movies is that they cram ten years worth of teaching bliss--those glorious moments when a kid is at a crossroads and you manage to give her or him a little nudge in the right direction--into a couple of hours, when they are really rather rare. Nonetheless, I am an observant fellow, and I have noticed that a few little things that can get a seemingly intractable kid to let her or his guard down just enough to learn something.
It's a shame that teaching movies are such bullshit. The reality of it is that none of us reach every kid, or even most, and every time that you can't tears you up. This book can't change that, but maybe some of my suggestions can tip the odds a little bit. If you manage to tip even one kid onto the right path in your career, you deserve a movie and a billboard, and the experience will be such pure, overflowing light that you won't even care that you don't get either one.
Brandon Payne
Sunday, July 18, 2010
What to do?
I am beginning to think Stephanie never gets on here....
Brandon, I love your stories...maybe this will brighten your day.
I'm officially 26. Crazy. This year so far has been really trying for me and full of a LOT of shit. I'm not sure what to say or do about it. I officially moved home 5 months ago yesterday, which was incidentally Zoe's first birthday. I didn't do a weird dog birthday party for her, although I considered it. Instead, my friends threw me a week-late themed birthday party. It was 80s themed and fucking fantastic. I loved it. I posted pictures on Facebook, and there will be more soon. Last week, on my actual birthday, I had another party. I refer to this as my party with my "young friend" and last night was with my "grown up friends."
During my party last weekend with my young friends, I had my first ever black out experience from drinking. Hell, I guess if you're going to have one, it might as well be on your birthday...even if you are turning 26, which seems like a ridiculous age to have such an occurrence, but whatever. That's what happens when you drink half a bottle of Patron...yikes. I remember taking about ten shots, and I guess I took about six more that I don't recall. It's weird. Since it happened, I think a lot about how I looked. Since I don't remember it at all, I think I must have looked weird or like I was out of focus. People tell me I just looked drunk and was slurring my words--no surprise there. I really don't remember anything after around 11:30 p.m., and I guess I went to bed right around 2:30 a.m. Yeesh...that's a lot of lost time.
When I woke up on Sunday morning, my first three thoughts were: how the hell did I get in this room? Why in the world does my throat hurt? Why the fuck are my pants unbuttoned? Seriously. That's some kind of party...
This is what I've been told happened: I did some dancing, sometimes on people, took shots, and convinced people to take shots with me. I played a game of beer pong, which I only remember starting. This guy, Travis, I guess broke the windown in the garage and I dumped the glass on his head as he bent to pick up some pieces. I also bit him on the arm. Who knows my reasoning for that. Then I guess I went to the bathroom and puked, all the while, telling Vinny all about how much I hate throwing up and how miserable it made me. I guess after about 30 minutes of this, he peeled me off the floor and took a wobbly Jer to his bedroom (this is a whole other aspect I need to discuss in this post) and then I guess I went straight to his bathroom to pee. I didn't button my pants when I returned to the bed, and just crawled up in the corner in a ball. I guess he grabbed me by one arm and one leg and pulled me into a normal sleeping position...God bless him for that. So, my three initial questions have been answered. I love that I have no memory of throwing up, as I actually do hate that. However, it scares the shit out of me that I can't remember.
My grown up friend party was similar...I was drunk by 10:30 p.m., which is when we decided it would be a good idea to go to the bar Good Company in our 80s attire. Needless to say, people actually stopped in the middle of their conversations to open-mouth stare at us when we entered. It made for great times. I really enjoyed both of my parties. I suppose I deserve it. Last year, B and I celebrated it together. He came home at 8pm, because he bought my gift that day after school. We had pizza and went to the bar. What a thrilling birthday. This year I had two amazing parties. I feel lucky. I am lucky. My adult friends from this group were actually my friends he introduced me to. I love that they are still my friends and talk with me.
Now, I really do have a situation on my hands...which is why the title of my post is what it is.
Get ready for some news...are you ready? Good. Here it is: I'm dating this guy. Is this earth-shattering news? No. However it does make things interesting. His name is Vinny. Yes, we've had sex...let's raise my number, again, shall I? Ugh...I'm a slut. Crimney.
Anyway, if that wasn't enough, let me tell you about my ordeal with him. He's 22. I'm 26. Yep four years different. He actually graduated from high school (my old high school and where I taught) the year I graduated from college. Now, for the weird factor: he was a student when I was tutoring in the school that year. I didn't tutor for him, but he knew me. He tells me now that he had a crush on me then. Yeesh...this cements the fact that I now know of at least three previous "students" who have had crushes on me. But, I digress. Anyway...it's just kind of weird. I told him I didn't want to be Mary Kay Laterneauish. He laughed. He also lives with B's brothers who live in Colorado, so three of the four live with him. Add another element of stress and weird. Although I love those boys, and they love me...so I guess it's not so bad.
When we first discussed what was happening between us, these were his actual words: "I know this isn't what the guy normally says, but I don't just want this to be sex. I want to be in a relationship with you." My response: "I'm sorry, but I don't. (I'm such a bitch.) I just got out of a bad relationship and I need time to heal. I just from relationship to relationship and I just need to focus on healing me." That was July 2nd.
Vinny could not be sweeter. If I wanted to be in a relationship, he'd be a good choice. He spoils me and I'm not even sure how to deal with that, since that hasn't happened in years. He always gets me my favorite beer and keeps it for me. He takes care of me when I'm shit faced drunk. However, I just don't know. I don't want to deal with another boy who has a mid-20s melt down and then I'm alone again. However, he's growing on me. I enjoy being with him and have stayed the night at his house (I usually drive home around 3am unless it's a weekend) like three nights this past week. Last night, after the 80s party, I went there. No, I didn't invite him. Is that bitchy? Probably a little. It's just those people were B's friends originally, and I don't want to bring him around unless he's a keeper. Does that make sense?
Ugh...I feel so conflicted. I guess I'll just enjoy what I've got and see what happens.
I should get to bed. I feel like this doesn't make much sense, and could be much better worded than this, but I just can't get my brain to work. I've worked 20 hours of overtime in the past week. I'm exhausted.
Holy moly...life is just crazy.
Brandon, I love your stories...maybe this will brighten your day.
I'm officially 26. Crazy. This year so far has been really trying for me and full of a LOT of shit. I'm not sure what to say or do about it. I officially moved home 5 months ago yesterday, which was incidentally Zoe's first birthday. I didn't do a weird dog birthday party for her, although I considered it. Instead, my friends threw me a week-late themed birthday party. It was 80s themed and fucking fantastic. I loved it. I posted pictures on Facebook, and there will be more soon. Last week, on my actual birthday, I had another party. I refer to this as my party with my "young friend" and last night was with my "grown up friends."
During my party last weekend with my young friends, I had my first ever black out experience from drinking. Hell, I guess if you're going to have one, it might as well be on your birthday...even if you are turning 26, which seems like a ridiculous age to have such an occurrence, but whatever. That's what happens when you drink half a bottle of Patron...yikes. I remember taking about ten shots, and I guess I took about six more that I don't recall. It's weird. Since it happened, I think a lot about how I looked. Since I don't remember it at all, I think I must have looked weird or like I was out of focus. People tell me I just looked drunk and was slurring my words--no surprise there. I really don't remember anything after around 11:30 p.m., and I guess I went to bed right around 2:30 a.m. Yeesh...that's a lot of lost time.
When I woke up on Sunday morning, my first three thoughts were: how the hell did I get in this room? Why in the world does my throat hurt? Why the fuck are my pants unbuttoned? Seriously. That's some kind of party...
This is what I've been told happened: I did some dancing, sometimes on people, took shots, and convinced people to take shots with me. I played a game of beer pong, which I only remember starting. This guy, Travis, I guess broke the windown in the garage and I dumped the glass on his head as he bent to pick up some pieces. I also bit him on the arm. Who knows my reasoning for that. Then I guess I went to the bathroom and puked, all the while, telling Vinny all about how much I hate throwing up and how miserable it made me. I guess after about 30 minutes of this, he peeled me off the floor and took a wobbly Jer to his bedroom (this is a whole other aspect I need to discuss in this post) and then I guess I went straight to his bathroom to pee. I didn't button my pants when I returned to the bed, and just crawled up in the corner in a ball. I guess he grabbed me by one arm and one leg and pulled me into a normal sleeping position...God bless him for that. So, my three initial questions have been answered. I love that I have no memory of throwing up, as I actually do hate that. However, it scares the shit out of me that I can't remember.
My grown up friend party was similar...I was drunk by 10:30 p.m., which is when we decided it would be a good idea to go to the bar Good Company in our 80s attire. Needless to say, people actually stopped in the middle of their conversations to open-mouth stare at us when we entered. It made for great times. I really enjoyed both of my parties. I suppose I deserve it. Last year, B and I celebrated it together. He came home at 8pm, because he bought my gift that day after school. We had pizza and went to the bar. What a thrilling birthday. This year I had two amazing parties. I feel lucky. I am lucky. My adult friends from this group were actually my friends he introduced me to. I love that they are still my friends and talk with me.
Now, I really do have a situation on my hands...which is why the title of my post is what it is.
Get ready for some news...are you ready? Good. Here it is: I'm dating this guy. Is this earth-shattering news? No. However it does make things interesting. His name is Vinny. Yes, we've had sex...let's raise my number, again, shall I? Ugh...I'm a slut. Crimney.
Anyway, if that wasn't enough, let me tell you about my ordeal with him. He's 22. I'm 26. Yep four years different. He actually graduated from high school (my old high school and where I taught) the year I graduated from college. Now, for the weird factor: he was a student when I was tutoring in the school that year. I didn't tutor for him, but he knew me. He tells me now that he had a crush on me then. Yeesh...this cements the fact that I now know of at least three previous "students" who have had crushes on me. But, I digress. Anyway...it's just kind of weird. I told him I didn't want to be Mary Kay Laterneauish. He laughed. He also lives with B's brothers who live in Colorado, so three of the four live with him. Add another element of stress and weird. Although I love those boys, and they love me...so I guess it's not so bad.
When we first discussed what was happening between us, these were his actual words: "I know this isn't what the guy normally says, but I don't just want this to be sex. I want to be in a relationship with you." My response: "I'm sorry, but I don't. (I'm such a bitch.) I just got out of a bad relationship and I need time to heal. I just from relationship to relationship and I just need to focus on healing me." That was July 2nd.
Vinny could not be sweeter. If I wanted to be in a relationship, he'd be a good choice. He spoils me and I'm not even sure how to deal with that, since that hasn't happened in years. He always gets me my favorite beer and keeps it for me. He takes care of me when I'm shit faced drunk. However, I just don't know. I don't want to deal with another boy who has a mid-20s melt down and then I'm alone again. However, he's growing on me. I enjoy being with him and have stayed the night at his house (I usually drive home around 3am unless it's a weekend) like three nights this past week. Last night, after the 80s party, I went there. No, I didn't invite him. Is that bitchy? Probably a little. It's just those people were B's friends originally, and I don't want to bring him around unless he's a keeper. Does that make sense?
Ugh...I feel so conflicted. I guess I'll just enjoy what I've got and see what happens.
I should get to bed. I feel like this doesn't make much sense, and could be much better worded than this, but I just can't get my brain to work. I've worked 20 hours of overtime in the past week. I'm exhausted.
Holy moly...life is just crazy.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
I suppose what happened yesterday was good, although it certainly wasn't pleasant. It's true that our IMs had a distinct flirtatious flavor, and he would be disingenuous to deny that. Nonetheless, what business did I have developing a crush--feelings even--for a guy I had never met. I didn't really even know what it looks like. Total rookie mistake. My heart has been softened by four years of not dating, and it needed to be reeducated.
Needless to say, he was simply "not that into me" (that's for you Steph). It was crushing, because we had spent the whole day together, having fun, talking about being gay in Korea, comparing relationship history, and then he dropped the bomb.
The question is what to do with that. Is it an indication that I have no business looking for a boyfriend in Korea? Or a dating refresher before somethin better comes down the pipe? In either case, I fall back on my axiom: You cannot find love, but never fear; it will find you. I cannot hide, even if I cloister myself up, which I feel like doing. I probably will for a week or so, but I am a man after all, and the box has been opened.
Needless to say, he was simply "not that into me" (that's for you Steph). It was crushing, because we had spent the whole day together, having fun, talking about being gay in Korea, comparing relationship history, and then he dropped the bomb.
The question is what to do with that. Is it an indication that I have no business looking for a boyfriend in Korea? Or a dating refresher before somethin better comes down the pipe? In either case, I fall back on my axiom: You cannot find love, but never fear; it will find you. I cannot hide, even if I cloister myself up, which I feel like doing. I probably will for a week or so, but I am a man after all, and the box has been opened.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Ready for some serious oversharing?
Cuz this is the only place I can really do that, plus I don't have to worry about editing or thematic continuity.
I sit here at my computer filled with a joy so calm and deep that it can only be called love. I have a hot mug of Chamomile tea. I am listening to Itunes on Shuffle, and Phil Collins just came on. I got that song from Robert, a fact that I mention lest you think I have gotten too much over him.
This weekend was filled with reasons to love life in general, and Korea in particular. On Friday, three other teachers and I had our debut performance as a barbershop quartet, something I have wanted to be in since the sixth grade, and never done until now. We then went together to a show, adorned by the company of the most charming old bird at the school. Her name is Anne, and she reminds me of my dear dead gramma, not because of any similarity whatever, but simply because she is an old broad who adores me. I ordered the tickets over the phone in Korean, so the trip was a bit of an adventure. I may well have misunderstood the directions to the theater, or bought tickets for the wrong day, or for all I knew given my credit card number to a complete stranger. I was at the head of this expedition, due to fact that none of the others are really able to navigate any complicated outing in Korea, and that my Korean is getting quite good. Every time I make a Korean friend, or construct some complicated sentence in Korean, I get a grammargasm, but more on gasms of that sort and others when I come to Saturday.
As we got close to the theater (which I did in fact locate successfully), I received a call on my newly acquired and quite fetching Korean cell phone. It was the box office of the theater. They kept my number, and arranged for one of the ushers who spoke English to call and make sure we were finding it okay! This was astonishing--can you imagine any American theater calling an individual patron to make sure they were finding the place? I assured them that I was on route, but they must have had limited confidence in the ability of foreigners to navigate (well=placed, albeit), so they sent the usher out into the street to find us and lead us to the theater. I fell in love with Korea a little more at that point. How lovely! How courteous! How unheard of in any other country! And this in Daegu, a city reknowned throughout Korea for in taciturn populace. In Seoul, they probably would have carried us in a rickshaw.
On Saturday, I had arranged to meet a fellow I met in an online Gay chatroom. He was Korean, and his pictures indicated a man of exactly my type--awkward, skinny, and bespectacled. I was naturally scared shitless. I had not been on a date in five years, really, and still have some weird hangups about my attractiveness. I know that I am marvelous company, and that I have certain skills in the bedroom that are pleasant, but my appearance might scare this attractive, successful, YOUNG fellow off before any of that became apparent. I thought about rescheduling, but I have a keen nose for fear, especially my own, and tend to kill it on sight. So I went.
When I arrived at the bus station after an 80 minute ride, I was met by the fellow, Kyeongho, in his nice car. He looked to be about fourteen, and would not have been attractive, were it not for my seriously lowered standards. He was of the type known as Twinks by our people, and I am not a connoisseur. I spelled that word correctly on the first try. This was a relief, since I was now in no danger of developing a crush. A boyfriend 80 minutes away, would distinctly not be worth the time investment that it would represent. Although he was standoffish at first, so standoffish that I considered heading home, he loosened up enough to mention over dinner that he had a boyfriend who was out of the country at the moment. At this, I suggested that the evening might be over, but he bristled at this, insisting that it would be a great insult to leave just when we were beginning to drink seriously. I observed that the last train home would be leaving shortly, but he said I could stay at his apartment. Intrigued by this turn, I consented. I have little compunction about other people's relationships, considering that it is their business if they want to fool around with me. Robert's and my relationship was certainly never watertight.
As the evening progressed and I impressed him with my Karaoke skills, it became clear that he was interested in more than just showing me the sights. When we went back to his apartment to watch soccer, soccer quickly turned into a touching recline on my shoulder, and a discarding of pants. I was pleased that he found me fuckable, and it was also nice, as strange as it may seem, that he had a small dick. It made me feel less out of my level. We didn't fuck, out of superficial consideration for his boyfriend--again, their business--but we had a lot of fun. We cuddled, which was the best part, and I tried not to fidget too much during the night. I thought of a set of ground rules for sleeping in other peoples bed that seemed amusing at the time, but probably isn't really.
We said goodbye this morning, and I headed back to The Village, which sounds creepy when I capitalize it, and had another lovely day with friends that are becoming quite tolerable. I have a lot to say about that, as about everything, but it is nearly 11:00, and I promised myself that I would get up early and work out before work tomorrow. Love to you both.
I sit here at my computer filled with a joy so calm and deep that it can only be called love. I have a hot mug of Chamomile tea. I am listening to Itunes on Shuffle, and Phil Collins just came on. I got that song from Robert, a fact that I mention lest you think I have gotten too much over him.
This weekend was filled with reasons to love life in general, and Korea in particular. On Friday, three other teachers and I had our debut performance as a barbershop quartet, something I have wanted to be in since the sixth grade, and never done until now. We then went together to a show, adorned by the company of the most charming old bird at the school. Her name is Anne, and she reminds me of my dear dead gramma, not because of any similarity whatever, but simply because she is an old broad who adores me. I ordered the tickets over the phone in Korean, so the trip was a bit of an adventure. I may well have misunderstood the directions to the theater, or bought tickets for the wrong day, or for all I knew given my credit card number to a complete stranger. I was at the head of this expedition, due to fact that none of the others are really able to navigate any complicated outing in Korea, and that my Korean is getting quite good. Every time I make a Korean friend, or construct some complicated sentence in Korean, I get a grammargasm, but more on gasms of that sort and others when I come to Saturday.
As we got close to the theater (which I did in fact locate successfully), I received a call on my newly acquired and quite fetching Korean cell phone. It was the box office of the theater. They kept my number, and arranged for one of the ushers who spoke English to call and make sure we were finding it okay! This was astonishing--can you imagine any American theater calling an individual patron to make sure they were finding the place? I assured them that I was on route, but they must have had limited confidence in the ability of foreigners to navigate (well=placed, albeit), so they sent the usher out into the street to find us and lead us to the theater. I fell in love with Korea a little more at that point. How lovely! How courteous! How unheard of in any other country! And this in Daegu, a city reknowned throughout Korea for in taciturn populace. In Seoul, they probably would have carried us in a rickshaw.
On Saturday, I had arranged to meet a fellow I met in an online Gay chatroom. He was Korean, and his pictures indicated a man of exactly my type--awkward, skinny, and bespectacled. I was naturally scared shitless. I had not been on a date in five years, really, and still have some weird hangups about my attractiveness. I know that I am marvelous company, and that I have certain skills in the bedroom that are pleasant, but my appearance might scare this attractive, successful, YOUNG fellow off before any of that became apparent. I thought about rescheduling, but I have a keen nose for fear, especially my own, and tend to kill it on sight. So I went.
When I arrived at the bus station after an 80 minute ride, I was met by the fellow, Kyeongho, in his nice car. He looked to be about fourteen, and would not have been attractive, were it not for my seriously lowered standards. He was of the type known as Twinks by our people, and I am not a connoisseur. I spelled that word correctly on the first try. This was a relief, since I was now in no danger of developing a crush. A boyfriend 80 minutes away, would distinctly not be worth the time investment that it would represent. Although he was standoffish at first, so standoffish that I considered heading home, he loosened up enough to mention over dinner that he had a boyfriend who was out of the country at the moment. At this, I suggested that the evening might be over, but he bristled at this, insisting that it would be a great insult to leave just when we were beginning to drink seriously. I observed that the last train home would be leaving shortly, but he said I could stay at his apartment. Intrigued by this turn, I consented. I have little compunction about other people's relationships, considering that it is their business if they want to fool around with me. Robert's and my relationship was certainly never watertight.
As the evening progressed and I impressed him with my Karaoke skills, it became clear that he was interested in more than just showing me the sights. When we went back to his apartment to watch soccer, soccer quickly turned into a touching recline on my shoulder, and a discarding of pants. I was pleased that he found me fuckable, and it was also nice, as strange as it may seem, that he had a small dick. It made me feel less out of my level. We didn't fuck, out of superficial consideration for his boyfriend--again, their business--but we had a lot of fun. We cuddled, which was the best part, and I tried not to fidget too much during the night. I thought of a set of ground rules for sleeping in other peoples bed that seemed amusing at the time, but probably isn't really.
We said goodbye this morning, and I headed back to The Village, which sounds creepy when I capitalize it, and had another lovely day with friends that are becoming quite tolerable. I have a lot to say about that, as about everything, but it is nearly 11:00, and I promised myself that I would get up early and work out before work tomorrow. Love to you both.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Sigh. Just when I thought I was getting Robert out of my system, nearly everything we did today reminded me of him. My friends out here are SOOO sick of hearing about it. It's become a running joke, even. "Hey Brandon, does this fork remind you of ROOOOOObert?" Gag. I even make me sick.
At least, however, there are things that might take my mind off it a little. I just got back from a surprisingly tolerable vacation with the entire family. When we were planning it, I forgot that it would include my birthday (happy birthday to me, BTW!), so I thought there might be a little tension around that when I realized it. As you might know, we were all Jehovah's Witnesses at one point, and some of them still are. Hence, birthday's are basically Satan parties. It got even more tense when my friends out here wanted to throw me a party (my first EVER, courtesy of the upbringing). I knew that could blow up if I wasn't careful.
But they were surprisingly cool. My Mom stayed in the hotel room during the party and rested, I showed my Brother and his wife a nice romantic restaurant they could spend the evening at, and my sister, of course, came with. The real surprise was my Dad. HE ACTUALLY CAME TO THE PARTY. This is unheard of. He said "Well, I'm not going to sing or anything, but I want to support you. I guess I'm an agnostic now, or something." That was a revelation. What's most ridiculous about it, of course, is that he says he's an agnostic, but he still doesn't want to celebrate birthdays. He showed up though, and sat there nicely.
So I guess I'm doing okay. I super MANIC right now, which is dangerous and I have to be careful, because I spend a lot of money and get super slutty when I'm manic. Speaking of slutty, Jervaise, it is to laugh. You're a slut because you've slept with 4ish guys? My number may be in the triple digits, depending on how you count. Yeesh! If you're a slut, what does that make me? You will both be pleased to know (if Steph looks here ever. Not sure.) that I am not slutty in Korea. I haven't had sex in months! Who would have thought that both of you would be getting more than me? And it's not for lack of opportunity either. This 19 year old was THROWING HIMSELF at me yesterday. I was embarrassed for him how badly he wanted me. Of course, I thought it was super creepy and politely declined.
To sum up:
me: still missing Robert, but the memories have less emotional charge now. It's more like, "Oh, remember him?" only twenty times today.
Jervaise: not a slut
Stephanie: who knows?
At least, however, there are things that might take my mind off it a little. I just got back from a surprisingly tolerable vacation with the entire family. When we were planning it, I forgot that it would include my birthday (happy birthday to me, BTW!), so I thought there might be a little tension around that when I realized it. As you might know, we were all Jehovah's Witnesses at one point, and some of them still are. Hence, birthday's are basically Satan parties. It got even more tense when my friends out here wanted to throw me a party (my first EVER, courtesy of the upbringing). I knew that could blow up if I wasn't careful.
But they were surprisingly cool. My Mom stayed in the hotel room during the party and rested, I showed my Brother and his wife a nice romantic restaurant they could spend the evening at, and my sister, of course, came with. The real surprise was my Dad. HE ACTUALLY CAME TO THE PARTY. This is unheard of. He said "Well, I'm not going to sing or anything, but I want to support you. I guess I'm an agnostic now, or something." That was a revelation. What's most ridiculous about it, of course, is that he says he's an agnostic, but he still doesn't want to celebrate birthdays. He showed up though, and sat there nicely.
So I guess I'm doing okay. I super MANIC right now, which is dangerous and I have to be careful, because I spend a lot of money and get super slutty when I'm manic. Speaking of slutty, Jervaise, it is to laugh. You're a slut because you've slept with 4ish guys? My number may be in the triple digits, depending on how you count. Yeesh! If you're a slut, what does that make me? You will both be pleased to know (if Steph looks here ever. Not sure.) that I am not slutty in Korea. I haven't had sex in months! Who would have thought that both of you would be getting more than me? And it's not for lack of opportunity either. This 19 year old was THROWING HIMSELF at me yesterday. I was embarrassed for him how badly he wanted me. Of course, I thought it was super creepy and politely declined.
To sum up:
me: still missing Robert, but the memories have less emotional charge now. It's more like, "Oh, remember him?" only twenty times today.
Jervaise: not a slut
Stephanie: who knows?
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Holy fuck...it's June
Brandon, first I must apoliogize for ignoring this blog and you. I don't think I've been on my computer since.
First, I must warn, I'm like 10 glasses of wine into this tonight...so don't judge me, or my spelling errors. I refuse to double check this bitch. I'm just venting. Here it goes....
I've been home for 3 1/2 months. Why the fuck don't I feel better? Why do I keep thinking back on my crazy moments of the last 3 1/2 months with regret. Yes, I've fucked men I'm not proud of. Why can't I deal with this? Yes, I've done a little sexting...what the fuck is wrong with me? Am I trying too hard to get back at Brandon? Am I pushing too hard to not be the woman he said I was? I'm not sure. I am DEFINITELY NOT the girl who allows men to have sex with her, yet I've done it twice, and would have three times if a condom was involved. What does this mean? Am I completely out of control. I've almost doubled my number of sexual partners in less than three months. God, am I a slut? What the fuck? (Yes, I realize my number is extremely low and I could feel more like a slut, but I don't.) Granted, I don't even count one, as how can you count a man if you make him pull out after less than 30 seconds. I don't. So, okay, .I'm at 4...well, techincally 4.5 if you want to count that guy...which I don't.
I hate that I've become this person I don't know. I drink all the time. I need sleeping pills to sleep. I dream of him nightly, and they vary from crazy, violent dreams to the average forgiving dreams. Ugh....why the fuck?!
This past weekend was hard. Any holiday that honors veterans is for me now. However, this one was worse. I kept thinking of the world we were supposed to start this June, by buying a house and living happily ever after...
I suppose all of my anger boils to this: I am pissed I don't have the "happily ever after" I was promised at some point. Yes, I realize one day I''ll be thankful and find the "true" love of my life, and be happy. But really, is that the case? I often wonder this. Brandon has beaten me to this point where I no longer feel like I deserve anything...least alone unconditional love. Fuck. This is shit.
Regardless, I want love and happiness...and unconditional devioti0n. Is that even real? I hate that I'm here. That I truly HATE another person. That I am becoming who I never thought I would...but I don't think there's an other option.
The plain, simple truth: Brandon Fraser fucked me over, mentally, physically, and every way possible. I'm fucked up. I can't cope. I can't be better. :( One day, I'll survive. Oh how I wish that was now...oh well...onto online dating...
First, I must warn, I'm like 10 glasses of wine into this tonight...so don't judge me, or my spelling errors. I refuse to double check this bitch. I'm just venting. Here it goes....
I've been home for 3 1/2 months. Why the fuck don't I feel better? Why do I keep thinking back on my crazy moments of the last 3 1/2 months with regret. Yes, I've fucked men I'm not proud of. Why can't I deal with this? Yes, I've done a little sexting...what the fuck is wrong with me? Am I trying too hard to get back at Brandon? Am I pushing too hard to not be the woman he said I was? I'm not sure. I am DEFINITELY NOT the girl who allows men to have sex with her, yet I've done it twice, and would have three times if a condom was involved. What does this mean? Am I completely out of control. I've almost doubled my number of sexual partners in less than three months. God, am I a slut? What the fuck? (Yes, I realize my number is extremely low and I could feel more like a slut, but I don't.) Granted, I don't even count one, as how can you count a man if you make him pull out after less than 30 seconds. I don't. So, okay, .I'm at 4...well, techincally 4.5 if you want to count that guy...which I don't.
I hate that I've become this person I don't know. I drink all the time. I need sleeping pills to sleep. I dream of him nightly, and they vary from crazy, violent dreams to the average forgiving dreams. Ugh....why the fuck?!
This past weekend was hard. Any holiday that honors veterans is for me now. However, this one was worse. I kept thinking of the world we were supposed to start this June, by buying a house and living happily ever after...
I suppose all of my anger boils to this: I am pissed I don't have the "happily ever after" I was promised at some point. Yes, I realize one day I''ll be thankful and find the "true" love of my life, and be happy. But really, is that the case? I often wonder this. Brandon has beaten me to this point where I no longer feel like I deserve anything...least alone unconditional love. Fuck. This is shit.
Regardless, I want love and happiness...and unconditional devioti0n. Is that even real? I hate that I'm here. That I truly HATE another person. That I am becoming who I never thought I would...but I don't think there's an other option.
The plain, simple truth: Brandon Fraser fucked me over, mentally, physically, and every way possible. I'm fucked up. I can't cope. I can't be better. :( One day, I'll survive. Oh how I wish that was now...oh well...onto online dating...
Saturday, May 8, 2010
It's the end of day three of my Facebook fast, and I'm noticing distinct withdrawal symptoms. I linger on the internet, at the five or six websites from which I get information, and revisit them more often than news could possibly break. I check my email ridiculously often. I am addicted to the computer, it is apparent.
I will say that I wish I could post a facebook status about my worst pedicure ever. I will probably never get a pedicure again, I am so creeped out.
Part of the problem lies in the fact that there really is nothing else to do here. I can't really go walk to the coffee shop, or something like that. The real question is, is that any different, really, than my life in Denver? Does it really count as doing something if you walk down tot he coffee shop and read a book there instead of in your room?
Today a fever for learning more Korean overtook me, and I feel pretty rabid about it right now. This is good, because my fixations are often quite energizing, and I expect to get some use out of this one. At least then I would be here for a reason.
I will say that I wish I could post a facebook status about my worst pedicure ever. I will probably never get a pedicure again, I am so creeped out.
Part of the problem lies in the fact that there really is nothing else to do here. I can't really go walk to the coffee shop, or something like that. The real question is, is that any different, really, than my life in Denver? Does it really count as doing something if you walk down tot he coffee shop and read a book there instead of in your room?
Today a fever for learning more Korean overtook me, and I feel pretty rabid about it right now. This is good, because my fixations are often quite energizing, and I expect to get some use out of this one. At least then I would be here for a reason.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Well, I am at the end of the first day of my facebook fast. I find that both my exhibitionist streak and my voyeuristic tendencies are mortified by my decision. What other outlet do I have for the pithy thought that I just had? How else will the universe of my friends be blessed by my insight? furthermore, how else will I be able to piece together whom Robert is fucking now, are which of my coworkers is interested in a piece of my pie?
Specifically, I reallllly want to post this link to my page, but I shall post it here instead. Whither hast thou gone, Stephanie and Jervaise? Be interested in me, however petty my ramblings, I beseech thee!
http://www.theonion.com/video/should-we-be-doing-more-to-reduce-the-graphic-viol,14330/
Specifically, I reallllly want to post this link to my page, but I shall post it here instead. Whither hast thou gone, Stephanie and Jervaise? Be interested in me, however petty my ramblings, I beseech thee!
http://www.theonion.com/video/should-we-be-doing-more-to-reduce-the-graphic-viol,14330/
Saturday, May 1, 2010
There are two reasons I might post here: one is the occurrence of some funny teaching thing that only you guys would get. The other is Robert. I hesitate to write this down, because writing things down tends to make them more real, but here is what's bothering me:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qybUFnY7Y8w
That's right, a silly music video. What specifically bothers me is that it's the most beautiful thing I've seen in a while, and it is the sort of thing that I see in my head. It also happens to be--or so I believe--the sort of thing that Robert sees in his head. I am the sort of person that does things, actually does them, but this I could not do alone. Oh, if only there were more than one of me, the marvelous things I want to do could be done! Here's the sad part: Robert could be that person if he didn't suck so much. If Robert wasn't such a limp pansy, it would be us making this video. That is the specific thing that is bothering me today. The fact that I have no one like minded with whom to carry out my adventures. It doesn't even have to be a lover. A comrade would be sufficient.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qybUFnY7Y8w
That's right, a silly music video. What specifically bothers me is that it's the most beautiful thing I've seen in a while, and it is the sort of thing that I see in my head. It also happens to be--or so I believe--the sort of thing that Robert sees in his head. I am the sort of person that does things, actually does them, but this I could not do alone. Oh, if only there were more than one of me, the marvelous things I want to do could be done! Here's the sad part: Robert could be that person if he didn't suck so much. If Robert wasn't such a limp pansy, it would be us making this video. That is the specific thing that is bothering me today. The fact that I have no one like minded with whom to carry out my adventures. It doesn't even have to be a lover. A comrade would be sufficient.
Friday, April 30, 2010
A former student contacted me on Facebook to see if I would help him with his homework. Isn't that sweet? Here's our email interchange. I almost wanted to write a beautiful paper for him, but figured this went far enough. I feel like I made it so simple that he might actually learn something.
Edin Bektasevic 30 April at 13:21
can you do me a favor please and help me with this english homoework i got?
Brandon Payne 30 April at 13:21
Of course!
Edin Bektasevic 30 April at 13:28
thanks! can you look up the video "I threw it on the ground" on youtube and see if you can identify the humors in it... falicies or humors, i'm not sure if thats the same thing
Edin Bektasevic 30 April at 14:53
Brandon Payne 30 April at 23:26
Are you looking for all the humor, or just the satire? To find the satire, look for things that make fun of something. I probably shouldn't just do it for you--depending on who your English teacher is--but any time that Andy Samberg is pretending to be a real musician, or doing anything that other musicians do, he is satirizing them. It could be the beats he uses, the way it's mixed, the way they shoot the video, filters they use on his voice--just look for stuff that you see in other music or music videos. What makes it satire is that he stretches that stuff out so far it becomes ridiculous, and fits it all into a ridiculous lyric.
Brandon Payne 30 April at 23:26
And I didn't do it for you, right?
And I just noticed in pasting that that he wrote homoework. LOL. This kid is super sharp, and that's exactly the sort of joke he would make. I hope it was on purpose, cause that's hilarious.
And I just noticed in pasting that that he wrote homoework. LOL. This kid is super sharp, and that's exactly the sort of joke he would make. I hope it was on purpose, cause that's hilarious.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The Sorrow
First, I must acknowledge my awful neglect of this blog. I loved reading about Brandon...maybe I should have done this sooner. Maybe it would have helped...
I moved home two months ago and my bags are still packed. I can't bring myself to put all of my clothes away at my mother's house, where I've moved back to at almost 26. I'm not sure why. I think, originally, I held out hope that Brandon would call me and I'd move back and we'd be happy. What a fool--he was already fucking the slut Sabrina. Now, 63 days later, I still can't do it. I don't know why. I don't know if it is because I feel like a failure. I feel like I gave everything up and became an adult and now I'm nothing. I lost everything I am and my job and my friends and family for him and now I've got nothing to show for it. I feel so lost. I feel so broken. I feel so numb.
I just read his email. I know, I'm morally corrupt at the moment. Don't judge. I saw that he wrote her an email 2 days after he broke up with me calling her "sweety" (which is spelt wrong, which reiterates why he's a dummy and I deserve better) and "beautiful". Fuck him. Then she responds, yesterday, that she is just afraid and doesn't want to be hurt like she is with her husband. Hello...they are the same man. Fucking idiots. They deserve to fucking destroy each other. That's what I hope for. A motorcycle crash and they both are injured...not dead or anything, but severe road rash. I know, that's super fucked up, but it's how I feel. I'm full of anger right now.
I'm not happy with some of my decisions of late. Drinking with the "wrong" people...partying...basically anything to numb the pain. I just keep making more and more poor choices. Everyone tells me I'm doing so much better, but I wonder if it is just an act to keep everyone from knowing how I truly feel. How truly sad I am. How truly fucked up I am.
I have these days where I'm happy. Where I want to move on and be happy. Then I have these meltdown moments. I just literally had to stop and cry non-stop for ten minutes before I could resume writing this. I fucking hate this! I hate my life right now. Once upon a time, I loved it, now I hate it! I hate that I hate it. Everyone says, "You control your life and your happiness." Funny how the people who say that are fucking happy and married.
I see happy couples everywhere and I want to attack them. I want to scream at the tv and punch people. Also, I'm having really, really aggressive dreams. Like beating Sabrina's head into a metal railing until her brains are mushing out. Yikes. What does that mean? I'm beating the shit out of Brandon, too, in my dreams. Fuck, I'm angry.
I just don't know anymore. I don't know anything. I just want to run away. I want to have sex. I want to be happy. I want my life to be better. I want the pain to go away. Yes, I just said sex...it's been too long. Fuck! Fuckity, Fuck, Fuck! I need a job. I need money. I need a life. I need so many more things. I fucking hate this. Why did I have to choose the worst man for me? I reflect back and shouldn't care. He took advantage of me whereever he could. He neglected me. He treated me like shit. But I do. I still love him. I want the love to go away, but it won't. I fucking hate that it won't. I hate that I care. I hate that my life has come to this. I know that one day I'll find the right man for me. I just wish that day was today and it would just work out. Ugh...fucking hate everything right now.
Okay, I am subbing in like 6 hours...sweet...no sleep again. I wish I would have bought those sleeping pills.
I moved home two months ago and my bags are still packed. I can't bring myself to put all of my clothes away at my mother's house, where I've moved back to at almost 26. I'm not sure why. I think, originally, I held out hope that Brandon would call me and I'd move back and we'd be happy. What a fool--he was already fucking the slut Sabrina. Now, 63 days later, I still can't do it. I don't know why. I don't know if it is because I feel like a failure. I feel like I gave everything up and became an adult and now I'm nothing. I lost everything I am and my job and my friends and family for him and now I've got nothing to show for it. I feel so lost. I feel so broken. I feel so numb.
I just read his email. I know, I'm morally corrupt at the moment. Don't judge. I saw that he wrote her an email 2 days after he broke up with me calling her "sweety" (which is spelt wrong, which reiterates why he's a dummy and I deserve better) and "beautiful". Fuck him. Then she responds, yesterday, that she is just afraid and doesn't want to be hurt like she is with her husband. Hello...they are the same man. Fucking idiots. They deserve to fucking destroy each other. That's what I hope for. A motorcycle crash and they both are injured...not dead or anything, but severe road rash. I know, that's super fucked up, but it's how I feel. I'm full of anger right now.
I'm not happy with some of my decisions of late. Drinking with the "wrong" people...partying...basically anything to numb the pain. I just keep making more and more poor choices. Everyone tells me I'm doing so much better, but I wonder if it is just an act to keep everyone from knowing how I truly feel. How truly sad I am. How truly fucked up I am.
I have these days where I'm happy. Where I want to move on and be happy. Then I have these meltdown moments. I just literally had to stop and cry non-stop for ten minutes before I could resume writing this. I fucking hate this! I hate my life right now. Once upon a time, I loved it, now I hate it! I hate that I hate it. Everyone says, "You control your life and your happiness." Funny how the people who say that are fucking happy and married.
I see happy couples everywhere and I want to attack them. I want to scream at the tv and punch people. Also, I'm having really, really aggressive dreams. Like beating Sabrina's head into a metal railing until her brains are mushing out. Yikes. What does that mean? I'm beating the shit out of Brandon, too, in my dreams. Fuck, I'm angry.
I just don't know anymore. I don't know anything. I just want to run away. I want to have sex. I want to be happy. I want my life to be better. I want the pain to go away. Yes, I just said sex...it's been too long. Fuck! Fuckity, Fuck, Fuck! I need a job. I need money. I need a life. I need so many more things. I fucking hate this. Why did I have to choose the worst man for me? I reflect back and shouldn't care. He took advantage of me whereever he could. He neglected me. He treated me like shit. But I do. I still love him. I want the love to go away, but it won't. I fucking hate that it won't. I hate that I care. I hate that my life has come to this. I know that one day I'll find the right man for me. I just wish that day was today and it would just work out. Ugh...fucking hate everything right now.
Okay, I am subbing in like 6 hours...sweet...no sleep again. I wish I would have bought those sleeping pills.
Monday, March 29, 2010
I've decided not to contact Robert again until I am confident that I can do so without fretting over his reply. The last time I sent him an email, I held my breath for a week waiting for him to respond, until I couldn't take it anymore and just called him. Nonetheless, there are certain things that I need to express, and here is as good a place as any.
Robert,
I was thinking about you a lot today, and thought it would be nice to touch base. There are so many things in Korea that you would love. I expect to get an apartment off campus within a year, so maybe you would like to visit. You could do so for very little (you cheapskate) except for the ticket, and stay in my apartment while I am working.
One thing that you would plotz over is how cheap it is. I ate a feast yesterday for 5,000 Won (about 5 bucks) at a restaurant. A stack of bulgoki, two soups, and five side dishes. It's even cheaper to eat at noodle stand on the street, and they are everywhere. 2500 won will get you full, no prob, and 500 won for a corn dog (heh) or a kebab later. I love going to Seomun market in Daegu, which covers five or six city blocks for three stories. housewares, clothes, fabric, food, it's like a giant cheap department store where you can haggle. Heaven.
Another thing that I think you would love is the jimjjilbang. It's a fancy sauna, and costs about 5000 won for the day. There are dozens of rooms, each at a different temperature, from 70 celsius, to below freezing. Some have steam, some have Rooibos pumped into the air, some have televisions running, some are burning mesquite, it's a theme park of relaxation. Of course, the male floors are nude, and the coed floors are clothed--your exhibitionism would be well-sated. There are massage rooms (for an extra fee) or vendors who will scrub the shit out of your skin with what seem to be brillo pads, leaving it baby smooth. I especially love the waterfall showers, which are so powerful they almost knock one over. The best part is that there are sleeping areas, in case one doesn't feel like springing for a hotel room, and they are open 24 hours. It's like a $5 hotel room--kinda--and they are everywhere.
I've been thinking about you in other capacities too. I feel like our parting was weird, and I could have handled it better. Aren't departures supposed to be weepy and emotional? Did I cheat us out of that? I'm not regretful about my decisions, but I worry that the way I executed them may have injured the opportunity for us to remain friends, which makes me really sad. Am I making this up? Probably. there is a lot of spare time out here, and this is what I do with an idle mind.
At any rate, you should come visit once I have my own apartment. It would be a tragic loss for me to not have you in my life at all.
BP
Robert,
I was thinking about you a lot today, and thought it would be nice to touch base. There are so many things in Korea that you would love. I expect to get an apartment off campus within a year, so maybe you would like to visit. You could do so for very little (you cheapskate) except for the ticket, and stay in my apartment while I am working.
One thing that you would plotz over is how cheap it is. I ate a feast yesterday for 5,000 Won (about 5 bucks) at a restaurant. A stack of bulgoki, two soups, and five side dishes. It's even cheaper to eat at noodle stand on the street, and they are everywhere. 2500 won will get you full, no prob, and 500 won for a corn dog (heh) or a kebab later. I love going to Seomun market in Daegu, which covers five or six city blocks for three stories. housewares, clothes, fabric, food, it's like a giant cheap department store where you can haggle. Heaven.
Another thing that I think you would love is the jimjjilbang. It's a fancy sauna, and costs about 5000 won for the day. There are dozens of rooms, each at a different temperature, from 70 celsius, to below freezing. Some have steam, some have Rooibos pumped into the air, some have televisions running, some are burning mesquite, it's a theme park of relaxation. Of course, the male floors are nude, and the coed floors are clothed--your exhibitionism would be well-sated. There are massage rooms (for an extra fee) or vendors who will scrub the shit out of your skin with what seem to be brillo pads, leaving it baby smooth. I especially love the waterfall showers, which are so powerful they almost knock one over. The best part is that there are sleeping areas, in case one doesn't feel like springing for a hotel room, and they are open 24 hours. It's like a $5 hotel room--kinda--and they are everywhere.
I've been thinking about you in other capacities too. I feel like our parting was weird, and I could have handled it better. Aren't departures supposed to be weepy and emotional? Did I cheat us out of that? I'm not regretful about my decisions, but I worry that the way I executed them may have injured the opportunity for us to remain friends, which makes me really sad. Am I making this up? Probably. there is a lot of spare time out here, and this is what I do with an idle mind.
At any rate, you should come visit once I have my own apartment. It would be a tragic loss for me to not have you in my life at all.
BP
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
This seems like a great forum in which to write about a couple of weird little confluences in my life. What do they mean? Probably nothing, but here goes:
Firstly, we have the strange case of David Cross. My friend Eben has insisted that I download and watch the show Arrested Development. I just watched an episode. Haha, moderately funny. Then I have nothing better to do, so I toodle around Facebook, and click on the profile of some random friend of a friend. No, get your minds out of the gutter, it wasn't even a cute guy. It was just some girl. I don't even know what was so interesting that I clicked on her profile; I had never heard of her before. Oh, she's a fan of David Cross. Who's that? Click. OMG he's that actor on Arrested Development that I just watched 5 minutes ago.
Then there's the slightly more meaningful case of Naomi, a coworker. We did not hit it off, for a reason that nobody knows, but I will go into only here, where nobody EVER READS. GAWD. Anyway, y first week here, I was going through manwithdrawl, and toodling around in some online chatrooms. Some guy offered to meet me in a neighboring town the following day, and I was taking a tour there--led by Naomi--so I said yes. The only catch was, the tour ran a little long, so I cut it short, and ran off to meet this guy. TOTALLY SKEEVY, I KNOW, so shut up. He stood me up anyway. You will be pleased to know that was my one and only attempt at romance so far this trip. And by romance, I mean fucking. The point of which, is that I was a bit of a dick to Naomi, and we got off on the wrong foot.
Eventually, she warmed up to my charming and fascinating self, and we started hanging out. As it turns out, we have a bit in common. Oh what's that? You were also raised a Jehovah's Witness? Freaky! What are the odds (I calculated it. .1% of the American population are Witness at any given time, there are 40 teachers, there is a around a 4% chance that one of the has at least a Witness background)? Cool. Not mindblowingly odd, but cool. What's that? Your Mom also has Lyme disease? Whoah! Super weird! Those are two rare, and deeply personal things to have in common. It's not like both liking rhubarb pie, or something pedestrian like that (we both do). Wonder what it all means; things like this couldn't happen without THE HOLY FUCK! WE HAVE THE EXACT SAME BIRTHDAY?!?!?!?!? hominahominahomina
So the obvious question is, "What does it mean?" Of course it is easy to reply that the odds of something improbable happening are extremely high--the improbable is extremely probable. This is beyond that explanation. The elements involved are so miniscule and personal, that I can't help seeing it as a cosmic message of some sort. The David Cross thing I would simply cast off as a reminder that the universe smiles on me, and sends me little reminders of its love on occasion. The "Naomi Effect", as I shall call it, seems more powerful. The Celestine Prophecy was a book for which I didn't much care, but one thing that stuck with me was that "everyobdy who crosses your path has a message for you." Enough. I'm freaking out over here.
Firstly, we have the strange case of David Cross. My friend Eben has insisted that I download and watch the show Arrested Development. I just watched an episode. Haha, moderately funny. Then I have nothing better to do, so I toodle around Facebook, and click on the profile of some random friend of a friend. No, get your minds out of the gutter, it wasn't even a cute guy. It was just some girl. I don't even know what was so interesting that I clicked on her profile; I had never heard of her before. Oh, she's a fan of David Cross. Who's that? Click. OMG he's that actor on Arrested Development that I just watched 5 minutes ago.
Then there's the slightly more meaningful case of Naomi, a coworker. We did not hit it off, for a reason that nobody knows, but I will go into only here, where nobody EVER READS. GAWD. Anyway, y first week here, I was going through manwithdrawl, and toodling around in some online chatrooms. Some guy offered to meet me in a neighboring town the following day, and I was taking a tour there--led by Naomi--so I said yes. The only catch was, the tour ran a little long, so I cut it short, and ran off to meet this guy. TOTALLY SKEEVY, I KNOW, so shut up. He stood me up anyway. You will be pleased to know that was my one and only attempt at romance so far this trip. And by romance, I mean fucking. The point of which, is that I was a bit of a dick to Naomi, and we got off on the wrong foot.
Eventually, she warmed up to my charming and fascinating self, and we started hanging out. As it turns out, we have a bit in common. Oh what's that? You were also raised a Jehovah's Witness? Freaky! What are the odds (I calculated it. .1% of the American population are Witness at any given time, there are 40 teachers, there is a around a 4% chance that one of the has at least a Witness background)? Cool. Not mindblowingly odd, but cool. What's that? Your Mom also has Lyme disease? Whoah! Super weird! Those are two rare, and deeply personal things to have in common. It's not like both liking rhubarb pie, or something pedestrian like that (we both do). Wonder what it all means; things like this couldn't happen without THE HOLY FUCK! WE HAVE THE EXACT SAME BIRTHDAY?!?!?!?!? hominahominahomina
So the obvious question is, "What does it mean?" Of course it is easy to reply that the odds of something improbable happening are extremely high--the improbable is extremely probable. This is beyond that explanation. The elements involved are so miniscule and personal, that I can't help seeing it as a cosmic message of some sort. The David Cross thing I would simply cast off as a reminder that the universe smiles on me, and sends me little reminders of its love on occasion. The "Naomi Effect", as I shall call it, seems more powerful. The Celestine Prophecy was a book for which I didn't much care, but one thing that stuck with me was that "everyobdy who crosses your path has a message for you." Enough. I'm freaking out over here.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
I haven't had much to say lately, but this seemed like the perfect forum to write about a little thing that happened today: it's private, but not too private. The chance that somebody might read this, however slim, heightens its cathartic strength.
I was planning to take a tour of the demilitarized zone this weekend. I had talked to one of my coworkers about it, and she was very excited. she and I aren't close--she is super Jesusy, and there are parts of my life that I could probably not share with her without making her uncomfortable--but I find her fascinating, and was looking forward to hanging out with her.
After making the plans, one of my other friends told me that there was a birthday party for another teacher this weekend. These two teachers I share more with--one frighteningly so, but that's another post, I suppose--so I told the other teacher that maybe we should do the DMZ tour another weekend, since it wasn't going anywhere, and the birthday was time-sensitive. I felt bad about it, as though I were blowing someone off, even though my reasons were quite aboveboard.
When I called the other teacher today to find out when I should show up to the party, I was really disappointed. I had misunderstood: the party was indeed tonight, but I was not invited.
I don't blame them for not inviting me--I've only known them two months--nor do I blame them for misleading me, since I am pretty sure I misled myself. Still, I feel sad, like I've been slighted somehow. And furthermore, I may have treated this other teacher second-handedly in my enthusiasm. I have only myself to blame, but writing all that down sure helps me to deal with it. Thanks for listening--whoever you might have been ;)
I was planning to take a tour of the demilitarized zone this weekend. I had talked to one of my coworkers about it, and she was very excited. she and I aren't close--she is super Jesusy, and there are parts of my life that I could probably not share with her without making her uncomfortable--but I find her fascinating, and was looking forward to hanging out with her.
After making the plans, one of my other friends told me that there was a birthday party for another teacher this weekend. These two teachers I share more with--one frighteningly so, but that's another post, I suppose--so I told the other teacher that maybe we should do the DMZ tour another weekend, since it wasn't going anywhere, and the birthday was time-sensitive. I felt bad about it, as though I were blowing someone off, even though my reasons were quite aboveboard.
When I called the other teacher today to find out when I should show up to the party, I was really disappointed. I had misunderstood: the party was indeed tonight, but I was not invited.
I don't blame them for not inviting me--I've only known them two months--nor do I blame them for misleading me, since I am pretty sure I misled myself. Still, I feel sad, like I've been slighted somehow. And furthermore, I may have treated this other teacher second-handedly in my enthusiasm. I have only myself to blame, but writing all that down sure helps me to deal with it. Thanks for listening--whoever you might have been ;)
Monday, February 22, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
As a going away present, the staff presented me with the following poem, framed:
Brandon
vivacious, weirdo, funny, fearless, crazy
lover of music, dance, song and chismoso
who feels more than anyone realizes
who needs gobs of attention
who fears mono [sic]
who gives a shit and unsolicited good advice
who would like to conquer the world using witty reparte [sic]
resident of a special place in the heart of The New America School
Payne
Meh. It feels obligatory and left-handed. I can almost tell where each word of this poem by committee originates. At least they meant well.
Friday, January 1, 2010
So, this is awkward. I got a facebook request from a former student. I was really surprised that, of all students, it should be this one. I can't remember speaking three words directly to him, and didn't even think he liked my class.
Even more surprising, he just IMed me to say "Mr. Payne, how's it going?" This guy? How odd. Anyway, he's a nice enough kid, so I struck up a conversation with him--just shit-chat--and then he logged off suddenly.
Intrigued by this interaction, I looked at his wall, and here's what I found:
Anthony Bombard Yesterday was beast
It sure seems like the kid looked me up because I was the only gay person he knows, and maybe needs somebody to talk to. He probably got scared and logged off. I SO know where he's at. The only thing I wonder is whether to send him an innocuous message to the effect that "Hey, if you need somebody to talk to, it's totally safe and confidential to ask me any questions you might have." I think I'll wait and see if he contacts me again. I don't want to seem creepy.
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