That's right, I have no rods to describe the past few days. I meant, of course, that I have no words.
Ha. At least I can still be funny.
I had the best birthday so far, and I think it's because no one sang the birthday song. I made them sing Feliz Navidad instead. I got a Skate Team USA beach towel from Shauna, coulottes from Emily, a coveted skirt from Lindsay, a cake and a Chimay from the boss, a slew of neat things from Lexi--but the thing I loved most was the love. Lexi's card almost made me cry. I sang "Pour Some Sugar on Me" at the local lesbian bar/karaoke room, and got hit on by the woman who sang "Baby got Back." Then we went to the Holocene and danced it up in support of the Portland Radio Authority. Since then, though, I've worked an incredible amount of hours. Really I just picked up two extra shifts this week, but it turns out that I'm exhausted and maybe that's because I've gone out drinking almost every night this week. Or, if I don't fall asleep drunk, I can't seem to sleep. I'm sure that it's just a consequence of the mild manic phase that is soon to end.
Why is this mild manic phase soon to end, you ask? (Ooh, a guy with 'roos! must tell Shauna. He's totally gay, too.) Rejection. Out and out rejection. From crush, from schools (add you-dub to the list). No, that's it. It's more about the loss of hope, of potential paths denied to me. Oh, and I've been a bit extra-randy lately (product, too, of mild-manic phase).
The good news though is that I am on-call with the Red Cross this week, I have an assignment for 2GQ, and I'm learning how to close on Tuesday. I would also guess that I have band practice this week. It's time to start doing things.
I feel like I should spend some time describing what happened, to give you the blow-by-blow, but I feel too sensitive about it now. I'm taking it too personally. I feel like I've blown any chance of finding "the one that you love and who loves you" (thank you The Smiths, playing at Tiny's).
Just take comfort in the knowledge that this phase has allowed me access to a new found productivity. It's good, each time one begins to sink into one's own filth, to start with a clean slate.
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