The Night Everything Broke, and I Have Perfect Timing

First thing when I walk in the door, Debbie pulls me aside.
Debbie: The fridge is on the fritz and I had to throw out a lot of food, so we have a limited menu.
She pulls out a copy of the menu and starts pointing.
Debbie: We have this, this, and this, but not that, and that, or that other thing.
Ah, gotta love complications.

One of my first tables is a middle aged woman with two girls who look about sixteen. They sit in one of the soft sections which seats exactly three people.
Me: Hi ladies, what can I get you?
Matriarch: We're expecting three more, so we're going to wait to order.
Obviously, they're in a cuddly mood because the only way to fit three more people there is for the newcomers to sit on the others' laps.

When the three newcomers arrive, the group moves to a table. Now, I know that in the grand scheme of things, this isn't really anything. But, it is one of my pet peeves when people can't do math of the "Let's see, there should be ten of us, and there's enough room for four people here, so..." variety. The newcomers are another middle aged woman and two more teen girls, though these look to be only fourteen-ish. The adults have chardonnay, the teens have virgin margaritas.
Me: Make sure you make those blended.
Dave: Oh, you should never blend virgins. Very messy.

Then, the flyboys invade. New group this time, but again with thirty at once. Their enthusiasm and volume are impressive.

A middle aged blonde woman joins an annoying couple at my table (high maintenance while also being lousy tippers).
Me: What can I get you?
Blonde: Him (points at one of the flyboys)
Me: ...
I stare at her more or less blankly because I've already lost the willpower to pretend I'm at all amused. The best I can manage is a slight upturn of my mouth that's not really a smile.
Her: Ha ha. It was a joke. I was kidding.
Me: ...
Her: (pout) Uh, a Bud Light.

Thanks to the invasion of many, many flyboys, none of whom carry cash, the ATM quickly runs out of moolah. Meanwhile, the jukebox is out of commission as well, which means we have to rely on the radio for background noise the whole night, which means I don't get to play any songs by the new bands I'm listening to these days.

The flyboys scare off the annoying table, which leaves me less than 10% overall, and I almost thank the flyboys for this, except I would have to yell over them to do so and I'm already starting to get a headache. I sigh and tell Laura that it's going to be a long night.

When the flyboys clear out we get a bit of a lull, which most of us use to eat something before the B Street mob hits.
Me: So, I counted. On the calendar. I have a maximum of sixteen more nights working here before I'm done.
Laura: No, not that many.
Me: Well, I mean, that's the most. I'm surely not going to be here all of them.
Laura: Really you've got half that. Mid-July.
Me: No, Mid-August, that's my quit date.
Laura: No, Mid-July. The owners are selling the bar.
Me: What? No way.
Laura: Yup.
Me: Wow.

Here's the rundown - the owners are in negotiations with the new owners, and while the paperwork is not yet signed, it seems like a definite thing. The new owners have their own ideas, which have been hinted at, but not fully detailed, about what the bar should be like. Their ideas are different from what it's currently like, so needless to say, the staff are anxious and a few have already mentioned leaving. A big part of why we work at the bar is because of its somewhat sophisticated atmosphere, and if the new owners change that we're all just left with dealing with drunks. Yeah, I'll pass. Then again, it's a moot point for me in some ways, because I'm leaving anyway. Yet, it's still sad to think of because I had plans for stopping in from time to time to say hi to everybody, but if everybody's abandoned ship, that's not going to work.

In summation, it seems my last day has moved up by a month. Regardless of what we think of the changes the new owners make, there will certainly be changes, and I fail to see the purpose of figuring out the new system just in time to quit, so that brings me down to a max. of eight nights. Unless the deal falls through, or the new owners change things slowly, that is. Dunno how it's going to play out, and it's hard not to be disappointed. All bitchery aside, I like the bar and I like the staff. I'm sad to think of it disappearing.

Alright, so back to the night itself:
B Street ends. We get flooded with the mob. I start going hoarse from all the times I have to yell "excuse me" at people who either ignore me, give me dirty looks ('cause my doing my job is interrupting their standing in the way, how rude!), or move half an inch to the side because they think I can fit through that much space. I get handsy and get in nudging/lightly shoving people out of the way mode.

During one of my passes, a random drunk dude yells out to me: Little smile? Little smile?
Me: No.
Which surprises the hell out of him.
Dude: No?! No?!
That's right moron. I refused your demand that I pretend to be happy while dealing with you and your mob of obnoxious friends. The purpose of my life is not to pretend I like you.

As an hour or two passes and the crowd trickles (or stumbles) out, I spot J. who walks over to me to fill me in on the fruits of my matchmaking the other night. Said fruits: coffee date. He's not quite sure if she's the girl for him, but he likes her as a friend at least and then he grilled me again about what she said about him. It was cute. Now I've gotta remember to call Jamie and get her side of the story.

My last table of the night consisted of two morons who were both annoying and bad tippers. Dude one says to Laura: Yo, yo, yo!
Laura: (forced civility) Can I help you?
Dude one: Am I bothering you? Do you not work here?

Dude two says to me: Hey, I've seen you on campus. You're a psych major, right?
Me: Nope, English major.
Dude two: blah, blah, school, blah, blah.
Me: That's amazing! We both go college. We should totally be best friends now!

Okay, so I didn't actually say that last bit. But, here we have another law of what I'll call bar physics: The more obnoxious the guy, the more convinced he is that hitting on the waitress is a good idea.

And tonight. Tonight, my friends, I have off. Words cannot fully express how overwhelmed by joy I am at this fact. I'm practically radiating rainbows right now. I kid you not.

Meanwhile, the mantra that keeps running through my head is, "Only one more B Street. Only. One. More."

Okay, So I'm a Meddler. But, It Was That Kind of Night.

Last night was one of those nice nights to be at the bar. Not too quiet for a Saturday, but not especially busy. Add a handful of pleasant regulars and a general laid back vibe, and it was a good night for me because I got to sit down and chat with people, but wasn't bored out of my mind. Good combo.

Last night was also a little bit odd because it was definitely couples night.

Tall, gawky, middle-aged guy walks in, has a seat at the bar around six thirty. Nothing interesting. Then, a while later, a woman walks in and joins him. I'm nearby at this point, and catch the "nice to meet you." My ears perk up, it seems we've got something blind-date shaped on our hands. She orders a margarita. He pays for it. They move to a table, and now are mine. She orders some food. He doesn't, but I have a strong suspicion that he's paying for it. Eventually, they go out to smoke. So does Brandi. The couple's out there for quite a while.
Me: So, they making out on the patio?
Brandi: No. I don't know that it's going that well.

The couple comes back, guy pays for the food, and they leave.
Me: Well, they're leaving together, that's a good sign.
Brandi: Are they holding hands?
Me: I don't think so.
Brandi: Go out front and look. No, I'll do it.
She dashes to the front door, and pokes her head out. No hand-holding.

Guy walks in, sits at a soft section, and says he's waiting for someone and is going to wait to order. He's wearing cologne. A woman walks in, a woman who I know from elsewhere, and who I know is single. They order their drinks and sit and talk together for a long time. No hand-holding there, either, but they had a date vibe.

Big group walks in. Among them a nice guy I know from the university and his wife. While the group is there, this guy can't stop touching his wife. Nothing obscene, mind you, it's strictly G-rated and when I walk over to check on them, he's absentmindedly watching her, and running his fingers through her hair. Very sweet.

Another group walks in, three gals and one guy. Two gals are a couple, as are the guy and the other girl. The guy and girl are getting married the next day. They're out to celebrate before the nuptials. They need shots. One of the lesbian gals comes up to the bar, because she's forgotten that I work there and am the one running a tab for them, and once the shots are ready, I remind her.
Me: Here, I'll take these over for you.
Gal: Oh, thanks. Can I carry anything?
Me: No, I got it. I've had practice.
Gal: Alright, I was just trying to be a nice guy.
Me: Thanks. I'm alright though. The tray helps.
Three tabs in the group. Lousy tippers, all. Funny. Lately, that seems to be a trend. I understand that weddings are expensive, but come on, folks, really. It was hard to be annoyed, though, I was just not in that kind of mood. Besides, the "nice guy" comment was pretty funny.

Rob and Melissa also make their appearance. Their first year wedding anniversary is coming up on Monday and they're as cute with each other as ever. They always sit right next to each other, plenty of hand-holding, and they lean in and talk and talk like everything the other person is saying is fascinating. Seeing them is one way to keep from getting cynical.

During a lull, I pulled up a chair and chatted with them for a while.
Melissa: So, what's new?
Me: Well, I'm trying the online dating thing. Started seeing a guy.
Melissa: Really? Rob and I met online.
Then they start grilling me for details. At one point, Melissa gives Rob a hard time because he's the one doing most of the grilling.
Rob: It's just 'cause I'm jealous. Ali's my secret girlfriend.

Around ten, K.C. comes in to watch the door. While I'm up front saying "hi," who should walk by the front windows but the blind-date couple.
Me: Hey Brandi, guess who I just saw.
Brandi: Are they holding hands?
Me: No. But, they're still together, so...
Brandi: Maybe there'll be a romp in the hay after all.

Okay, so now the stage is set. You can see what kind of mindset I was in, right? You can see what kind of vibe is in the air.

Enter J. and his buddy. J's an off-and-on regular, he's a nice guy, my age, who's the perfect kind of regular - friendly, but not pushy about it, and easy going. The two just came from a religious-themed event.
Me: Hey there, stranger. What're you guys up to, tonight?
J: Well, we got some God, and now we need some beer. All I need is to meet a pretty girl, and my night's complete.
He looks around, notes how slow it is.
J: Why don't you have a seat, keep us company for a while?
Me: Sure, just let me check on my other tables first.
I hang out for a while, and am sitting at the table when the door opens again and Jamie walks in.

Me: Hey there. Looking for people? (She hangs out with some other folks I know)
Jamie: Yeah.
Me: They're downstairs.

Then, the idea strikes me. When Jamie comes back upstairs a short time later for popcorn, I pull her aside.
Me: So, maybe I shouldn't say this, but I'm in that kind of mood tonight.
Jamie gives me a suspicious look.
Me: See the guy over there with the glasses?
Jamie: Yeah.
Me: Well, he's looking to meet a girl tonight. Whaddya say?
I talk her into it.
Me: Great. I'm taking some beers over, come with me and I'll introduce you.
I grab the beers and we walk over.
Me: Alright, you said you wanted to meet a pretty girl tonight. This is Jamie.

They say hello, J pulls out a chair for her, but Jamie goes back downstairs where the rest of her friends are waiting for their popcorn. When she doesn't come back after a few minutes, I go after her. She's hiding, but my scheming doesn't work if she's hiding, so I tell her to get back upstairs. Then I turn to Skunk.
Me: See this gal right here?
Skunk: Yup.
Me: Don't let her stay down here too long, she's gotta go back upstairs.
Skunk: Got it.
Jamie gives me a look that's none-too-nice. Then, I head over to her group of friends, which includes my friend Dorothy, and Dorothy and I make a plan. They group is a bit hungry so I say I'll put together some chips and salsa for them, on the condition that Jamie comes up to get it.

Brandi: Hey, you were supposed to unplug the jukebox. (it was on the fritz and this was our next attempt at fixing it)
Me: I can't waste my time on that right now. I'm busy.
When I tell her what I'm up to, she gives me her patented look of disgust. JP has me point out J and fill him in, so now there are a number of people following along.

Of course, when Jamie comes up for the food, I take my sweet time getting it while she sits at J's table. By the time I cough up the chips and salsa, she's given him her number. When she goes back down, I follow soon after, and when I return J grills me.
J: Did she say anything about me? Does she think I'm cute?
Me: She said you should call her.
J: Anything else?
Me: She said she gave you her real phone number.
J: And?
Me: She didn't give me any more than that. It's out of my hands now, but I wish you the best of luck.

Brandi: Well?
Me: She gave him her number. So, there's a chance.
Again with the look of disgust.
Me: Come on, what've you got against love? Feel the love.
Brandi: Shut the f* up, matchmaker.
(And, I've gotta point out here, that despite her show of disdain for my scheming, she did ask how it was going, so she clearly wasn't as disinterested as she pretended)

Alex: Hey, where's my girl then?
Me: I can only do so much in one night.
Alex: Come on!
Me: Besides, I heard a certain rumor about somebody giving you a kiss the other night.
He immediately turns and glares at Laura, who's in having a Guinness on her night off, and who was my source for that bit of gossip.
Me: So, I figure you're doing alright on your own.

J. asks me one more time if I think Jamie's interested, and I tell him he should definitely call her. He walks out with one of those cheesy grins on his face. I call that a productive night.

Stepping Stones and After the Bar?

Transition periods have a tendency of making me restless. This week is the last week before summer break. Thus, I'm restless tonight. And tired. Not the most ideal of combinations. I feel like there's something I ought to be working on - other than my big class paper (which I'm not focused enough to work on right now anyway) - but I'm at a loss for what, in particular.

During dinner with friends tonight, I was asked the question of what I'll talk about here once I'm done waitressing in August. What would have the same kind of tone and comedic potential? I'm steering clear of teaching topics, because I can only poke so much fun at myself and I'm not going to talk about my students. That can only end badly. I've run out of steam on movie reviews - so hard to stay creative when it's all just more "I liked it" or "I didn't."

I've gotten personal in the past, but I don't know that I want to go back to that. Yeah, blogging is the new confessional and all of that, yet I'm not feeling particularly compelled to go in that direction.

Transitions... Going from one place to another. The foot is mid-air, headed for the next rock across the stream.

Can we always be our own compass, or do we sometimes need others to help point the way?

Tonight is a night for questions.

I can say that I'm in a better place now than I was in November. I've been saying "no" more often and in the past week or so I've taken a new risk which is spreading its own ripples. A couple of days ago I bought a new CD, Cracked Rear View by Hootie and the Blowfish. It's much more of a mainstream album than what I usually shell out cash for, but it's fitting really well right now.

I can say that my priorities have shifted. Notable: I've gone through the entire semester (practically) without once getting sick, despite the nasty flu that was going around and hit at least three students in my comp. class hard. As good an indication as any that I'm doing better on balancing myself out.

Tonight I'm thinking of ways of communicating, relationships, uncertainty, fear, the skunk under my porch, popcorn, Celtic music, things that are funny about people, sighs, meteor showers, that time of night when all the lights are out and you're in bed getting ready to fall asleep, the color blue, movies, conversations, eye contact, smiles, things that grow, and next week.

So on a closing note: People underrate the importance of humor. They oughtn't.

Timing?

So, it's been two months since the split, and it's feeling more final than ever. After a brief spurt of Keith and I talking, we haven't. During our last conversation he asked about the possibility of us getting together again, and I told him I didn't see that happening. Seriously, after three and a half years of working on the relationship only to have it implode, what's the point of beating the proverbial dead horse? Especially after a few weeks when I came to the realization that I could really find someone else who I'd be more compatible with. A point kind of emphasized at my party when I was thinking about how much I enjoy those who came and how he was usually either indifferent, or outright negative, about my friends. Like his friends were all that great. Besides, I'm fine on my own. Singlehood has its advantages.

But, I digress. Today I gave the news to two people I've been putting off telling. Both are friends who've moved away, and I kept wrestling how to fit it in to a casual "hello" message. One's already replied, saying lovely supportive things. Then, the other day I told my friend Dorothy and she said, I kid you not, "I'm so excited for you." No malice, I promise, but simply putting a positive spin on it. The thing is, when she said it, I couldn't help but feel excited for me too.

I've reached a point where I feel like I've moved on. This bothers me a bit. It feels like it was too easy. Or is that just an indication that, despite my wanting it to be otherwise, we hadn't been working so well for a while? Feels like that second one.

Now comes the million dollar question, what next? If I'm over and done with him, am I ready to be interested in someone new?

Talking Again

"I'd kinda like to see you at some point. Maybe that's a mistake. Maybe I'll second guess myself on that. I don't know when or how that'll go, so how about you call me when you're ready?"
-Keith

When Keith and I split, I sent him an e-mail (too emotional to call) saying I didn't like the idea of him disappearing from my life all of sudden. A few days ago, he replied to it. A couple more e-mails, and the next step is for me to give him a call. In the abstract, I'm thinking "Yeah, sure. It'll be easy." Then I realize that's wishful thinking. *Sigh*

Part of me wants to call him right now, to prove that I'm not afraid. Ha. Maybe tomorrow. It's strange. We went from enemies, to friends, to dating, to nothing, to... what? Maybe friends again. I have no idea if it'll work, but I think I ought to at least try. He's a good guy, it might work. Or, it might be terribly awkward and uncomfortable. Ugh. I guess there's nothing to do but find out.

Relationship Inventory

"I hate this phrase, I always have, and I hate it because it's so true: Everything happens for a reason. It's the shittiest thing to say to someone during bad and even not-so-great times, but after it's all over and you find the reason, it's also one of the best."
-Camii

The more I think about it, the more I keep coming back to all I've learned through my relationship with Keith. We had over three years of a very good relationship where we never had screaming matches, no one cheated, and we got good at resolving problems. Now that it's over, I keep reminding myself that there are still things I can take with me.

One of the key personal things is that Keith helped me work through a very tough time in my life. The summer before we started dating, I spent three months in Arkansas running a branch office for Vector marketing. I was responsible for nearly all aspects of the office, including payroll and bills, and essentially, I was running my own business. Things didn't go so well, and the business, in all the ways that matter, failed. I took a big emotional and financial hit. Keith helped me stop blaming myself, helped me build my self esteem back up, and gave me a point of reference when I felt like everything had fallen apart. I'll always be grateful to him for that.

Another important thing I can take away is an idea of my standards for a relationship. Whenever I get involved with someone new, I now have a better defined concept of the kind of person I'm looking for, thanks to both Keith's flaws (1) and his strengths (2).

1. First off, I'm looking for someone who:
Isn't so afraid of failure that he refuses to try something risky (and I'm not just talking about getting married, either).
Is more open minded, less judgemental.
Is more sure of themselves.
Has a good idea of who they are, and is comfortable with themselves.
Has a better relationship with their family, or at least tries to.
Takes better care of themselves (Keith had a habit of going all day without eating, then gorging when he did eat (usually crap, too), and of neglecting his sleep - sometimes going off of only four hours or less a night for days at a time, etc.).
Doesn't smoke (this includes the occasional cigar - gag me).
Allows me to have tastes that differ from his - i.e. won't argue with me about why I have to like death metal, or Space Above and Beyond, or residual cigar smell. Who won't sit down on the couch with me while I'm watching Grey's Anatomy then constantly tell me how/why it sucks, etc. For crying out loud, I can enjoy my own thing, you can enjoy yours, and it doesn't have to be a problem! Of course, this was a more recent development, rather than an ongoing one.
Actually has an interest in meeting/getting to know my friends. Keith almost always declined when I invited him to an English major get-together.
Doesn't drink/drinks less. When we started, he almost never drank. Then it grew on him - not to a point most people would consider excessive (not by far) but to a point that bothered me, a drink or two most nights, getting outright drunk every month or two (including at my housewarming party, which was one of the few times he actually spent time with my friends).
Is more positive and looks for solutions to problems rather than just the problems themselves.
Gets the writing thing.

2. I'm also looking for someone who:
Likes to touch/be touched, and I'm not really getting dirty here. I'm talking about holding hands in line at the movies, an arm around each other while we watch TV kind of stuff. Keith was very physically affectionate, which I liked.
Doesn't always need to talk to feel connected, someone comfortable with silence.
Keeps their commitments (No nasty jokes, ok?). If Keith said we were going to dinner Saturday night, we went to dinner Saturday night. If he told his friends he'd be there Saturday night to smoke cigars and drink Scotch, that's where he was. Once he said he'd be there, he was.
Looks forward to seeing me.
Shows me new and nifty things - Without Keith, I doubt I'd even know what Robot Chicken was.
Gets along with my family. Keith even got to the point where he'd give my mom a hug without her asking. Sometimes.
Likes it when I spend time with their friends.
Is in touch with their goofy side.
Doesn't have "traditional" ideas of gender roles. Sometimes Keith bought dinner, sometimes I did, and he liked to cook, had no problem cleaning, doing laundry, etc.
Accepts me as-is.
Is comfortable taking charge sometimes - like coming over and saying, "Okay, this is what we're going to do tonight: first dinner, then some episodes of American Dad."
Is honest with me.
Makes me feel valued - like they lucked-out in being with me.
Likes doing things with me, and is comfortable with us doing things separately also.
Trusts me.

There's Always Good With the Bad

"Some of God's greatest gifts are all too often unanswered...
Some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers"
-Garth Brooks, "Unanswered Prayers"

Since Camii and I have been writing back and forth for so long, with each of us having our respective tough times, we've reminded each other more than once that no matter how bad the thing that happened is, it happened for the best. If we were Christians, we'd say something along the lines of Garth's song. The message is the same, whether there's religion involved or not: faith. As long as you have faith that there will be something positive that comes out of the negagive, you'll be able to find it.

The main difference between happy people and unhappy people is not their circumstances, but rather their attitude. There are people who whine and whine about every little thing, and people who are dying from cancer who celebrate every little thing. It's all about perspective.

With all my "talk" of feeling depressed and lonely, I thought it was time to throw in some positivity. Thus, here are some positive things that I've experienced in the past week:

Support from friends and family, and all everyone's done to try to cheer me up

Having my parents say, "You absolutely did the right thing"

A good writers group meeting, and dinner afterward

Farm cookies made specially for me

New toys for crafting - a dremel tool and pearlescent powders

Spending three hours yesterday experimenting with some polymer clay finishes and getting wonderful faux dichroic glass looks

Almost added to the list, but not quite, 'cause it's tomorrow:

The "End of the SI" Writing Marathon, which means not only will I be making no copies, but I'll also be enjoying free food, some neat people, and writing.

As far as the good that directly came out of this, it mostly comes down to the fact that if stress about the decision to get married was enough to make him leave, then how would we have managed once more serious stress came, like money worries? Then, not only would we be splitting up, we'd be getting divorced. Also, in the time Keith and I have known each other, and since we've started dating, we've both changed. For me, I've gained confidence. For him, he's lost it and picked up habits I despise, like smoking cigars. We weren't meshing as well as we used to, and why would that change just because we lived together? In this case, it's maybe not quite finding the good as avoiding a worse bad.

Cookies and an Anniversary

"Here, mom told me to bring these over to you."
-Casey

It's funny that one week later is harder than four days later. Then again, it makes complete sense. Four days after breaking up with Keith was just that. A week after is an anniversary. It has now been a specified unit of time since he gave me his key back and walked out of my house. A specified unit of time since I last saw him or spoke to him. Damnit, I was doing so well, and now it's hard again.

On the bright side, when my brother got into town, my mom gave him a package of farm cookies and instructions to deliver them to me right away. I think she wanted to get him to see me first thing so I could tell him the news. I have to say, the sympathy cookies taste very good. Farm cookies are in my top three cookie varieties, and I've never seen nor heard of them outside of the context of my family. They're like oatmeal cookies, except I guess the gal who created the recipe ran out of oatmeal, so she added cornflakes and coconut too. Mmm... Baked good aren't everything, but they help.

Homesickness, Teddy Bears, and the Post-Keith Rebellion

"Well I'll never be a stranger and I'll never be alone
Whenever were together, that's my home."
-Billy Joel, "You're My Home"

Once the shock and anger wore off, I started having this feeling that I couldn't quite pin down. Then the other night I sat in my living room, watching TV and feeling this feeling, and suddenly I had a thought of "I want to go home." Silly, though, I was home. Then I figured it out.

Another weird thing that's happened is the teddy bear. When Keith and I first started dating, he had this teddy bear on his computer that an ex-girlfriend had given him. He said he wasn't attached to it, but just hadn't thrown it away. At that point, I made it my mission to claim the bear (i.e. "beat" the other girl by owning this thing she gave to him). Since then, the bear has been something I could grab as a stand-in of sorts for Keith. Now, even though we've split, the bear is still nice to have. The Keith connotation has faded, but the positive associations of the stuffed animal have stayed. So, when I've been feeling depressed/lonely the past few days, I've been hanging on to that bear and it makes me feel better. Kinda funny, isn't it?

On the bright side, it seems the worst has passed. I'm no longer a wreck. I've gone from being constantly sad to bitchy. My tolerance levels are incredibly low right now, but I'm okay with that. I'll take irritable over heartbroken any day. I mean, progress is progress, right?

As part of my progress, I find myself having a mini-rebellion against the habits I developed from being with Keith. For instance: I bought a pizza on Saturday and on the way I thought of what I should get on it. My first impulse was sausage, bell pepper, and mushrooms, which were about the only toppings Keith and I could agree on, and thus the kind of pizza we always got together. Then I caught myself and ordered a pineapple and canadian bacon pizza instead (he couldn't stand the idea of pineapple on pizza). Along these same lines, I'm thinking of cutting my hair even shorter and getting a dog. Not having Keith any more means there are many things I miss, but the flip-side is all the extra freedom I get from not having to compromise.

I find that as the hurting starts to wear off, I'm getting more and more excited about the freedom. Clear the polymer clay mess off the kitchen table to make room for another person? Bah!

Impact

"This morning if someone had asked if you're gone
I would've managed a smile and said we're still hanging on
But if they pressed me I could've honestly said I don't know
Oh but that was a phone call and a six pack ago"
-"A Sixpack Ago" by Steve Wariner

I'm a mess today. The shock has worn off and the impact of what happened is really starting to hit me. This time yesterday, I had a fiancee and a plan of how the rest of my life would go. Today, I've lost both.

There's a chance he might call, try to work things out, but it's not likely. He said he'd made up his mind and that his doubts were strong enough to make him go and never come back. So, now I have to make peace with that. Somehow.

You know how they have these video clips of glaciers where all of a sudden a huge sheet of ice drops off the face of it and crashes into the water? Yeah, it's like that.

Betcha Didn't See This One Coming

I sure as hell didn't. Well, ladies and gents, come October Keith and I will not be getting married. This is because, as of about an hour ago, we have broken up. I'm taking it kinda hard. The worst part is, there isn't even a specific thing I can point to and say "that's why." The past few weeks we've been a bit distant from each other (I said wedding stress, he didn't agree and we got no further than that) and Keith said that was a big enough reason to think it won't work out. There's more to it than that, there always is, but that's as much as I'm ready to say about it right now. I'm feeling blindsided and I'm probably in shock.

So now, after nearly four years of automatically assuming I'll see or talk to Keith the next day, I won't.

Being Engaged

"What about the ring?"
-Question asked by different people when I told them I was engaged

In some ways, I'm very different from my mom and in some I'm very much alike. Case in point: engagement rings. My mom has an opal "engagement" ring which she got a few years after she and my dad were married. She wears it on special ocassions. When my folks were first engaged, she said she didn't want one - she preferred to put that money towards something else, like their honeymoon.

I have no engagement ring, and people have tended to think it's weird. Julia suggested I go get an inexpensive cubic zirconia ring so I'd have something, and I thought about it - especially at the times when random drunk guys showed how they thought I work at a bar because I'm looking to meet men. Ultimately, though, I've decided it's not worth the trouble. I don't wear rings much, and I figure after October an engagement ring'd be a moot point anyway. I do plan to wear a wedding band (Keith and I are thinking maybe stainless steel or such).

It's funny, the closer this wedding gets, the more untraditional I want it to be. I'm the one getting married, I want to call the shots. The good news is, so far no one is having any problems with that. All my folks said was, "Just let us know what you want us to do," and my mom even said, "This is your wedding, I want you to do it how you want. I didn't get to."

In related news, I just found this article: http://www.slate.com/id/2167870

The "M" Word

“So, about that getting married idea…”
-Keith

Spring break was fairly eventful. I got mad at one of the owners at the bar, had some time to sleep in and be a bum, and I got engaged. Keith and I have talked about getting married for a while, mostly trying to figure when would be a good time and a little bit of me saying, “No, I don’t want to just live with you.” I’ve had it in my mind for a long time that we’d end up tying the proverbial knot, but it’s always been a “someday” kind of idea. Now it’s a “end of September” idea. I’ve mostly adjusted, but it’s still a strange thought. Before the year is over, I’ll be a Mrs.

Here’s the plan: Toward the end of June, after Keith graduates, he’ll move in with me. At the end of September/beginning of October, we’ll go to the courthouse, sign the papers, then go to my folks’ house for a BBQ. No ceremony, no wedding dress, just a party. While that’s all figured out, things that aren’t include whether I’m going to do the hyphenation thing with my name, where Keith’s damn iguana is going to go, and who’s getting invited to the party. It’s okay, though, there’s still time.

Here’s the sad part. When I told my parents the news, their reaction was to be a bit surprised, but supportive. When he told his parents the news, their reaction was to ask how I’d be able to stand him. That’s no joke. Their questions were along the lines of, “but how will she put up with you going out with your friends all the time? How will she like you sleeping in so late?” Come on, I’ve known him for almost nine years, I’ve dated him for the past three and a half of those, and if his habits drove me nuts, I’d have been gone long ago. I’m hoping they’ll come around, or at least stop giving him grief about it. Here’s hoping.

In the meantime, I’ve been having marriage chats with my mom about things like handling money, adjusting to living with another person, etc. Also, I called my brother the other night and ended up waking him up to tell him the news. He was a bit asleep at the time, so he had to call me back the next day and say, “About that. Congratulations.”

The most strange part is that I’m somehow very reluctant to tell the people I know. I’m not exactly sure why, except that it seems too personal, like telling people I’m going to the gynecologist or something. Nothing wrong with it, but they don’t need to know. Ah well, I’ll get around to it.

Wedding update & movies

Pintel: ...I always heard it said "kray-kin"
Ragetti: What? with a long A? Na-na-na-na-no-no no "Krah-ken"'s how it's pronounced in the original Scandinavian, and "Krakken"'s closer to that.
Pintel: Well we ain't original Scandinavians, are we?
Ragetti: It's a mythological creature, I can calls it what I wants!
-Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest

Jayne, myself and the other bridesmaids, and another gal pal went to see this for the “bachelorette party.” In short-if you liked the first one, go see the second. I laughed, a lot.

Yes, it’s been over a week since my last post. I’ve been a slacker all around though, so it’s not like I’ve been neglecting the blog alone.

First thing-wedding update. The ceremony was nice, short and sweet with only the minor mishap of the keyboard player’s music stand crashing to the ground during Judy’s song. The keyboard player stopped, but Judy handled it wonderfully and just kept on going. The day’s other notable mishap was Sean’s state. The night before the bachelor party hit the bars and all was going well (moderate drinking only) until the last stop on the way home. The bartender was so drunk that a patron was mixing drinks and once other patrons knew Sean was getting married, they bought him drink after drink, including a round of tequila shots sometime after two in the morning. I think during the ceremony he was still mostly drunk and it wasn’t until the reception that the hangover started beating on him. Needless to say, he looked pretty pathetic. The newlyweds left the reception early (in a car covered with heart-shaped sticky notes, by the way) and I’m sure Sean went to bed as soon as they got home.

Now, to catch you up on my Netflix adventures.
Purely by chance, I happened to watch two flicks in a row with Jim Broadbent. He’s a fun actor, and one of those who seems to pop up in random places-he seems to have a preference for the slightly odd-ball which scores points in my book.

Princess Caraboo: Fun for its imaginative quality. Broadbent plays the husband in the couple that takes the girl in.

Rough Magic: Another one that’s fun for its imagination. It’s a bit farce, a bit magical realism, a bit detective drama. Add in Russell Crowe, and voila! A fun flick. In this one, Broadbent is a “doctor” trying to find the secret to a magic tonic who teams up with Crowe and Bridget Fonda in Mexico.

The Sum of Us: Made the same year as Rough Magic and also featuring Crowe (he must have been pretty busy). It’s a bit family drama, a bit comedy, and a bit romance, though seeing Crowe making out with another man is rather unsettling. I love Jack Thompson in this movie, he plays Crowe’s father. The soliloquies are a bit strange, hold-overs from the play, but they weren’t too distracting and there was one or two moments where they were totally wonderful.

Alright, that’s all for now. It’s time for me to go see Mary and work on her neighbor’s house.

Weddings, Weddings, Weddings

Willow: Buffy, it's hideous. Oh my god, Buffy. Look at its arms!
Buffy: I know. But it's my duty. I'm... Buffy the bridesmaid.
Buffy, “Hell’s Bells”

So, the Jayne & Sean wedding is tomorrow. Coincidentally, another member of the university English majors is having her big day tomorrow. Kathy, the professor I’m working for on campus is a bridesmaid in the second wedding. Jayne = laid back bride. Other gal = Bridezilla. I just got a whole tirade on the other gal and damn, I’m impressed. Let me a brief comparison.

Jayne’s wedding requirements
Dress: $75.00
Shoes: Whatever (Borrowed from my mom)
Hair: Whatever
Rehearsal: Followed by Pirates of the Caribbean viewing (Tickets courtesy of the maid of honor)
Total Bridesmaid cost: $145, including gifts and a necklace I made for Jayne.

Bridezilla’s wedding requirements
Dress: $400.00 strapless (“Like I have anything to hold up a strapless dress!”)
Shoes: Silver stiletto sandals (“I can’t even walk”)
Hair: Bouffant (“I told her to kiss my ass”)
Rehearsal: Dressed up dress rehearsal (Me: what’s the point of that? Kathy: Don’t even get me started)
Total Bridesmaid cost: Roughly $1,000 and I don’t know if that includes a gift.

All I can say is damn.

My guy and I have talked about getting married and about how exactly that’s going to work. Our plan is to go to the courthouse with the fewest number of people possible, probably just our parents and siblings. After we sign the paper, we go home and have friends over for a BBQ. Neither of us wants the boredom of a formal ceremony nor the stress of a formal to-do. This plan means we still get to hang out with friends and family, but we don’t have to stress about all the typical details like flower arrangements, catering, what I’m going to wear, etc.

Let’s face it folks, the wedding is one day. The important part is what comes after, right? The marriage part that lasts, in theory, the rest of your life.

July 8th wedding

“Clearly you’ve never been to Singapore.” – Jack Sparrow

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest, opens the night of Jayne and Sean’s wedding rehearsal. Jayne said something about having a rehearsal movie viewing instead of a dinner, which is totally fine with me. I don’t know that it’ll actually happen that way, though.

I’m excited about this wedding, it’ll be the first wedding I’ve ever officially been in. Of course there’s also the fact that these two people are my friends and I’m excited that they’re getting married. They’re good people and they make a good couple.

Last night after my last Flash Fiction class, most of the class went to the bar and a lot of the old English majors met up with us there, including Jayne and Sean. I brought the necklace I made for the wedding and Jayne quite liked it. I was a bit nervous about that, since I couldn’t find the right beads to do what we had originally talked about, but she’s pretty laid back about the whole thing. In fact it was only last night that they got a singer for the wedding, Judy, who’s another English major. It’s funny, too, how when we all get together it takes people forever to leave. Judy came in, said she could just say “hi” because she had to get home to take care of her injured dog, and stayed for two hours.

The downside of the evening was that while the group of us were sitting at the table chatting, some random guy came up and joined us. He was pretty drunk and kept asking someone to repeat what was said and mostly sat there trying to make conversation and failing miserably. As Sean commented later, the consensus was “Who was that guy, and what the fuck was he doing with us?” While I like the bar, there is a definite downside in that people like to get annoyingly friendly.