Wherein I Tell My Truth

So on OKCupid, this guy never messaged me back, until yesterday. He apologized for not responding, but he's bi and has never done anything with a guy so he's understandably scared. He invited me to add him on Facebook because I seem like a great guy though.

So as I was walking to the library while high (crazy development, another story however) I had a train of that as to what to message him. It'd go something like a monologue like this.

Me: Hi!

Him: Hey!

Me: Look, it's fine if you just want to be friends or try and go on a date if you'd like at some point. I get it. Gay guys are kind of like girls in that there are a some who will just want to sleep with some, some want to pursue a relationship, others just want a companion and so on. It just so happens that the faction of gay guys that want to sleep with you is much larger than one might think, which may seem intimidating because if they want to sleep with you, would they be more aggressive and forward in pursuing something because you are normally the one who does that but now because you are both men it goes up in the air and you might be surprised to find yourself being pursued? But I think that you are considering gender roles too deeply in this. Many gay guys are too disenchanted with the gay community and thus have become a fringe group, similar to how a girl might say exasperatedly, "Why are all the hot guys gay?" But is it really fear instilled in you or a sexist notion that produces fear? Are you to blame society for this notion or how about yourself in accepting these gender roles so nonchalantly in life? Furthermore could this society as a mass be to blame for this or would that be individuals to be blamed that somehow make a majority? Are you still therefore an extension of a mass, a leviathan if you will, that decides the question of what does a certain gender or sex entail and shall this be generalized in all walks of life, including yours where you question being bi but not exploring it? In conclusion, how about stop being a sexist pig?! 

So how about that date?

     So there I was, back in my doctor's office on the day that my supply of adderall ended. He looked to me and asked me how I had been on the medication. I told him just about everything about the anxiety, how it was worse the first two weeks but decreased after that. It was still really bad anxiety, but better than at first nonetheless. And he looked at me with all the pity in the world, I swear. He simply  said," Well, let's take you off that immediately. We'll tackle the anxiety first." He explained that I scored higher on the ADD screening and I explained to him that my anxiety was typically set off by social interactions, how I shut off in relatively small groups and larger, how I trip over my words despite the fact that in a one-on-one conversation I am usually quite articulate. He asked how I coped. I responded that I just avoid large interactions altogether. And he said the dumbest thing: "Oh, so this is affecting your quality of life?" Well, yeah. Pretty much why my friend group is small and I don't put myself out there ever, why I wear giant headphones whenever I leave my apartment, why I have a dog to hang out with instead. 

     So he put me on Zoloft.

     It wasn't that great, mostly because I was dealing with the fact that I now had no energy or motivation from lack of adderall again. My hunger came back and I felt human once more; to feel the basic needs dictate my life was refreshing. I was euphoric the first week and nothing could bother me. The first night I took it, I couldn't sleep. I would have a nap for maybe 20 minutes and be wide awake for the next 50. But it didn't bother me the first week. I was just ecstatic for no reason. Caffeine was immensely powerful while on Zoloft. One cup of coffee felt like four. So, the week passed and I was just drifting in life again. I wouldn't have called myself depressed but I was not there, really.

    One night I went to see Lily Allen with Brian, and I had maybe 3 drinks. It was not the brightest idea, given that I was on an antidepressant, but it happened. Alcohol, like coffee, was amplified. The effect lasted longer and felt threefold. But after the concert, I was gone. I was emotionally empty, drained of all joy and all light. I got home and laid in bed. I wished I could have felt something, wished I could have cried for hours, but the fact of the matter was that I could not. The effect lasted four days. The anxiety came back worse afterwards, and it was difficult, painful even to breathe. Brian asked me how I was doing and I explained it to him. He told me it sounded like a panic attack. But this was not one episode. This had been going on for days. Brian told me to call my doctor, so I did. They took me off Zoloft immediately and called in a new prescription. 

     So since about July I've been on three different medications for a short period of time. I went to my doc and basically said that I would like a referral for a psychiatrist because that way my insurance would cover it, the good ol' gatekeeper method. The PA said that," Oh no, you're totally fine. We can do the testing for anxiety and ADD here next time." I couldn't really say no, so I didn't. Two weeks later, I came back, they gave me the tests and I scored slightly on the anxiety questionnaire and highly on the ADD one, so lo and behold I was given adderall.

     Brian and I went to pick it up, but I didn't take it until the very day, Saturday, right before I went to work. I was speaking rapid-fire quickly and I got so much done! I made spreadsheets, and planned my classes out months in advance. Here I was, being productive in just four straight hours. And then I took my second pill as prescribed, and then came the anxiety. It's not anxiety in the normal sense, more like anxiety started by pure fear, in which a sense of looming demise was upon me. Like my shadow had weight, or if someone held a knife to my throat and I had to keep moving or talking, expending energy because my life depended on it. All of this was fine, believe it or not, because I was at work, and work was a giant distraction, given that I was talking to Milen for a vast majority of it. Soon, it was quitting time, and I arrived home just one hour later. I sat down, and the shadow was upon me. Everything was just so heavy, and then JT came in. Feeling just awful, I asked him for a hug, and you would not comprehend how great it felt. The weight had not left me, but it was suspended in weightlessness, because JT was protecting me from it.

    It wasn't all bad, though. I remember one time I was doing a community orientation against my caution, but I'll start from the beginning. This was the last community orientation I was to give, as this was the last Friday I spent at IRC. The day before, I was helping Cindy with a project that Daley had delegated to her, simply a new guidebook for refugees to answer some basic questions they might have. And it had to be graphically pleasing, so Cindy and I would get an image, jazz it up, and give the whole task the ol' razzle dazzle. We didn't finish because we had to do an airport pickup (my internship was so goddamn interesting!) that Thursday as well.

    So Daley came to me on Friday right before I headed out to my community orientation family, saying,"Yeah, that community orientation? Forget about it. This is more important. Can you help me finish this instead?" Quite honestly, the adderall had me on edge but boy could I work incredibly fast on that project on it, so I said sure! Especially since the community orientation was for Razan's family that didn't speak English, only Arabic, because she loved to see me squirm because she hate, hate, hates me for no reason other than she loves her drama like her food. In any event, I wasn't doing the community orientation for about an hour, and then Razan pointed out that I should leave. I smugly informed her that Daley had me doing something else, and she was frustrated. Daley came back in to our office, and Razan heard it from him that this was my task. He said sorry to her, but did not acknowledge that the orientation should go on. As soon as he left though, she said,"So are you leaving soon?" "What do you mean?" "Daley said he was wrong, soooo. . ." "Fine, let me finish this part first." And I kid you not, she stared knives into my back as I worked for maybe two minutes until I couldn't take her passive aggression anymore and just got packed to leave.

    I told Daley I was leaving then and he asked if I could take this man to the ESL classes to sign up, and I warned him that was one of the last stops on the orientation, so it'd take forever and more walking than was necessary for this guy, who spoke some English but mostly Arabic. He said it didn't matter, take him anyway. So we left.

    On the way to their apartment, I was walking way too fast. But the refugee was keeping up, and we were conversing about  what little could be said given the language barrier. And then we went to the apartment after maybe a 20 minute walk. The family, despite Razan saying they were ready, invited us in as they got ready. But first I called Razan so she could talk to him. I talked to her, and she said,"Oh, and also, take them to get their lease signed." That's what started our hatred for each other, a lease signing, and she knew this. She knew it well. But I was slightly euphoric from the adderall, so whatever. After 30 minutes, they were ready to leave. It was now hot as sin outside, and we walked to the leasing office where normally we went for lease signings.

    We went in, waiting maybe five minutes before speaking to these awful people. I talked to them and guess what they said? That the lease signings for refugees at the other office, and she looked and said this as if it were the first line in the Bible, as if everyone involved in this party had known this, despite the fact that just last week we had done a lease signing at this very office, not ten feet from where I was standing. No matter, I resolved! Off we walked in the direction of the other leasing office, some fifteen minutes in the wrong direction of where the community orientation and ESL classes were located.  We arrived, the family and the man in tow, by this time friends through their common language and penchant for conversation with refugees. Finally, we began the process, but to little avail, until another refugee that I had given an orientation two just last week walked in. He spoke English well and knew everyone in the neighborhood. He came with a friend he just made to get a mailbox key. Soon, they all started talking: the friendly refugee from last week, his friend with a car, my refugee headed to ESL classes, and my family that had 3 kids with them. So what could have been a 10 minute lease signing became a 45 minute debacle that I was content to watch as the leasing agent was flustered trying to get them to sign here, initial there, twenty times over, trying to get the friendly refugee to translate essential parts of the contract and failing. It was deliriously funny for me, because this was not my plan at all. It was Razan's and it was crashing and burning. 

    Finally, we were done, but we still had the community orientation. It was noon already, and I had set out two hours earlier. By now we should have been done and we would have avoided the heat of the Dallas sun. I told them we still had to do it, but they really didn't want to. So I happily called Razan. I happily told her the situation. I happily heard that fine, they could do it next week, when I wouldn't be there anymore. Then the family, I kid you not, squeezed into the car that bought the friendly refugee, and so a total of 8 people were in the 4-door sedan. But I still had to take the ESL classes guy, and we had a moment of eye contact where we both apologized for the circumstance we were put into.

    So we walked another 20 minutes in the correct direction, and I led him to the classroom, which was not in fact the place to register. And it was closed. So I called Daley who said it was next to the apartments, which was very vague considering. Finally, a now settled refugee pointed me to the leasing office, which was empty of the person we needed. So we waited for her. She entered moments later, only to tell me that her ESL classes were not the ones we were looking for. Rather, ours was closed at this time and there was nothing we could do. Miraculously, she offered to give the other ESL registrar his information and number to contact him. 

    And we left. Back towards his apartment and to my internship. I saw the bus coming from the corner of my eye, so I asked him if he knew the way back. He said he did, so I turned to face him, shook his hand, and then took a step to my right, onto the bus, whose doors closed a second later, and I left him in awe. It worked in so many ways. I swiped my card and headed towards the middle, next to the doors in the middle. And in front of me, a man turned around and asked me if I wanted to take a survey for DART. Did I? Of course! I loved the DART and told him so. I filled it out, and by this time, I had just enough time to pull the rope to announce my stop, get out my headphones, and walk right off as soon as the bus stopped and the doors opened.

    I got back to my internship, told Razan how everything went, and she laughed at all my jokes and smiled at every anecdote. Then Daley came in and she then told him my story and we all laughed in a moment of synchronicity and jubilee. But I had to go. So I left and passed the reception desk, asking one of the interns if she was also leaving soon. She was, so I had time to get water and wait for her. She and I left and walked to the DART station, and I asked her if she wanted to stop by 7-Eleven to get a Slurpee. She said,"No, I'm cool." And with perfect sitcom timing, I responded with,"You're not cool until to drink a Slurpee," with my index fingers pointed to her. So we get our Slurpees and we're drinking them as we enter the DART station. There's a lemon ice truck giving out free snow cones in exchange for filling out DART surveys, as if to validate my story to her. There the man on the bus is at a table, and he sees me, and exclaims,"My man!" with a grin on his face. We get to the top of the stairs and I finish my story.

So yesterday, I went over to Linda's to get a haircut and be her first experiment. She asked so often I just thought,"Eh, why not? My college life doesn't hinge on if I have great hair or not. And if it does, I haven't learned my lesson yet." Once there, I was greeted by a tipsy Navya who offered me a drink. Being the alcoholic that I was, I accepted. Then I accepted another, which I'm pretty sure was half vodka half cranberry cocktail rather than the safe 1 to 4/6/8 ounce ratio that normal people are used to. Once more, I was very whatever about it. I'm whatever about the motley of events that transpire around me lately. Soon after, Joey, Navya's boyfriend came over.

Linda cut my hair and it's legit. I am well on my way to the preppy look I am going for to be good enough for the messenger bag that I've bought. So, once that was done, we joined Navya and Joey in Linda's room. Linda and I talked about how Polly unfriended me but not Linda. Linda mentioned that she hid Polly from her Facebook feed because she was so disgustingly Pro-Israel with her statuses. At this, I asked Joey if he were Pro-Israel and he was confused for a moment and then said yes. So I rephrased it and asked him if he was Pro-Palestine. Once more, he was confused and then said yes again. I asked him if he were aware what the conflict was about and he said, why yes, at one point he was very interested in the whole Palestine-Israel conflict. I asked him to explain what he understood of it. He was said that Palestine was the Jewish state and that Israel was the Muslim state. I pointed out that he was mixing the two up. In any event, he said that the basis of the conflict was that the Jewish state always existed and that it did not receive recognition from the Muslim states. I said that was part of it, just one aspect. Then he wanted me to explain, that I hadn't explained anything. So I tried telling him that the Jewish state started around 1919 with the exodus but that Palestine had existed before that. He was sure that Israel existed first, and I wasn't sure if he was splitting hairs in that in biblical times there was the Jewish presence of if he meant in the past few centuries. So I said, that yes, in a way he's right. I had no idea how sophisticated he was in debating, to be quite honest so I'd rather not make a fatal mistake in the very beginning.

At this point, Navya warned him that I was a vicious debater and that he shouldn't get into it with me, but he said he loved debates.

So I tried finding out what his interest level and knowledge base was on the subject, giving him the benefit of the doubt despite him not knowing which was the Muslim and Jewish state. Then, he said something about how Palestine was always the one to drop out of negotiations. I told him that that it wasn't so simple and that he can't take that as an absolute because that's hasn't always been the case, not to mention how Israel often had outlandish demands that could not be met, so ending talks was the only logical response.

The conversation shifted to why Columbus was trying to find a route to India. I said because it was a hassle to round the south of Africa and that winds were seasonal and therefore often unfavorably. But Joey had a different theory. He said that Columbus was sick of dealing with Muslims. I casted doubt on that, citing that Muslims consider merchants dignified, and the profession an honorable one.

Somehow, we started talking about white people. I brought up my theory of escalation of white people. Basically, white people escalate things way too much. I pointed this out by saying that slavery as a result of warring tribes in Africa was not as harsh as slavery in the Americas, or even slaves acquired from these African tribes were treated worse than before they were sold. Joey remarked that they were traded for alcohol and guns, to which Linda and I retorted that the guns were a product of escalation brought on by the introduction of Europeans to the continent. Thus, it was a matter of taking what resources you needed to survive this new field. I brought up that for the longest time in America runaway slaves were considered mentally ill and that their treatment was simply to beat the rebellion out of them. Then Joey brought up castration and for some reason the Aztec empire that was spreading. He also said that white people bringing disease to the New World was not really their fault. 

I brought up once again my theory of escalation and he kept going back to comparing beating slaves to castrating them. And he kept asking for statistics. I accused him of casting doubt rather than actually making an argument, that his frame of logic is that surely there is a counter fact that proves me wrong. And that's enough for him. Oddly enough, after all his statements, he would say,"I'm just sayin'."

Then he went on a rant that just because he's white doesn't mean he can't understand the plight of black people. I started laughing. I laughed and laughed when he said that it's true. That he can understand that black people can get pent up rage from continuously seeing white women clutch their purses a little tighter every time they see a black person. He was just sayin'. Linda and I pointed out how he benefited implicitly from a system that is designed for the white male. Then we joked about how we would love to be able to have the choice of being a white male in the world. I kept laughing, and Navya said she needed to leave, that she had to wake up at 8. It was 2:45 AM at this point. I also needed to leave, so she walked me to the door and then whispered that Joey was the worst debater even when sober. I was hysterical with laughter. As I left, I heard Linda ask Joey,"So tell me how was it like going up in West Plano as a white male?" It was great.

Side note: I did the research on Christopher Columbus because I work at a library so duh. He had two captains that were Muslim, so he personally didn't have anything against them. He married for status, was quite ambitious. Not one for trade, though. He had little experience as a merchant, ending poorly. He was, however, a merchant's representative for a good portion of his life. He did beseech the Castilian royalty to be sponsors for his expedition. Everyone knows they were very anti-anyone-who-wasn't-Catholic. Maybe Joey learned about his pitch to the King and Queen? I dunno. Seems like a weak link.

Also, I am doing research on slavery across cultures, and it's a pretty well established fact that 

To be sure, in terms of scale and perhaps also brutality, slavery may have reached unprecedented levels in the plantation societies of the post-Columbian Americas.

The citation: Palmie, Stephan, et al. "Slave Cultures and the Cultures of Slavery." Google Books. University of Tennessee, 1997. Web. 23 Aug. 2014.

I'm just sayin'.

This might become a series in the blog to make sense of all the random and achronological stories I have shared or I might give up on it as I do most things and people. Time will tell.

I met Luke through Alex. On the weekend that the fraternities had finished their pledges, Alex so happened to have parents that were concurrently absent from his house. In life, there are absolutes, of this I am sure. One just happens to be that if someone like Alex had parents so foolish enough to leave for a weekend, that person is obliged to throw a party. In turn, Mariah was invited. And by extension, I too was invited. Mariah made the decision to skip out on the frat parties where fun might be a possibility on the horizon to instead take me to Alex’s, and for this I was appreciative. In my life, I’ve gone to close to zero parties, so I cherish each in its own grand splendor.

The first thirty minutes were irrelevant, a blur, and a bother. That twilight zone where you have pregamed enough to walk through the door but not enough to talk to another stranger. But I found this guy named Luke and this girl named Viviana. (Rarely do I describe people, but I will in the pilot of this series.) Luke, he’s not particularly tall, maybe half an inch shorter than me. Luke loves button downs and plaid seems to be his lifeblood. He tends to have a fuzzy beard that is no more manly than I am. He wears glasses that aren’t worth mentioning besides the fact that they allude to his geekiness. But his smile is warm. His eyes crinkle with laughter. He lisps when he drinks too much, and he is theatrical when just words will do. Viviana, she’s big. Round, and overweight, yes. But I’ve never thought her ‘fat’ or ‘big-boned’ because despite her size, her presence dwarfs it. Her hair falls in ribbons down her shoulders, black as madness and twice as captivating. Her smile is sly, inviting, and all-knowing. 

And Alex, he introduced us with a round of Jell-o shots. Viviana claimed that Luke would be her boyfriend for the night, to which he wholeheartedly agreed. Then he laughed and mentioned that he was gay. At this, I blurted out in no elegant manner,”What did you say?!” in a bewildered rum-fueled fervor. Mariah glared at me like you would to a dog that pees right before your eyes, no shame and no mercy. So she told me to calm down. “Okay, but really, what did he say?” I was making a scene. “Let’s go outside to smoke a cigarette,” she sighed. “But I want to know what he said!” I was desperate in that moment for the truth as I followed glumly. Here, she told me that yes, he said he was gay, that I did not imagine that. And I learned just how thirsty I was in those few moments. 

But Luke and Viviana followed us outside after our moment to compose myself. So I tried flirting with him, and he quickly informed me that he had a boyfriend. I ignored his attempts to show me pictures of his boyfriend and strayed the conversation away from that topic while he steered it back to that route. And at some point, he left. And I got too drunk. I vividly remembered attempting to explain the game of Therapy but finding the rules nonsense, but I was not discouraged. I shared this nonsense with one stranger, and he nodded and nodded, his eyes darting for an exit or segue. No other way to put this: I passed out in one of the bathrooms, and woke roughly around 6am, wailing “Mariah? Mariah?” She was upstairs, and I showered, changed clothes, and left with her. I was still drunk.

I am now writing what happened that last weekend before I stopped writing literally 3 months ago. Back then, it seemed so significant but I was actually so very wrong:

I was lying in my bed, listening to my favorite band in the dark, pondering my existence and my experiences. I was on my way up, once more, as if I had never really met Matt and had never wanted to kill myself. It was a pleasant moment, having that rom-com twist in my life. I was on twitter and I was favoriting tweets on my phone. One just so happened to be Luke's. He saw it and sent me a message, after some 4 months of silence. Life is funny that way. So we talked. From maybe 11pm to 1am. And I slowly drifted to sleep like you imagine a cloud drifts over a mountain, apparent and all at once ethereal.

When I woke on Saturday, he messaged me, and we basically caught up on our lives. My major event was that I was no longer friends with Mariah and his was that he finally broke up with his boyfriend, whose name I no longer recall. I will refer to him as Samuel. That's not it. That's nowhere near it but I'll keep it as it is. And he said something that really struck me, because it confirmed my belief, a long held suspicion. That Mariah was a terrible friend and a terrible person to me. He mentioned that when we went to S4 for Viviana's birthday that she just wanted to leave me in the hotel blacked out because she was just so annoyed with me at that point. Not a true friend at all.

As for his boyfriend, I was pretty surprised myself. It was the longest relationship he had, given that his definition of boyfriend was so broad and encompassing. They broke up a month ago, and it was surreal. I didn't expect them to get married or anything so grand. It was just so sudden to me, and I haven't the slightest idea why I was so consternated. The idea was alien in its simplicity and profoundness. I didn't even like Luke all that much but he was definitely someone who popped up in my head from time to time, as if a string connected us and every so often, he'd tug so I would be caught in a whirlwind of bafflement. So here we once more. I invited him to coffee, and he told me that he couldn't because he was going to hook up with someone (As I edited this, I noticed I put "something" rather than "someone" and I am aware that it is because I saw this other person as undeserving of Luke, a thing one step below human, and for that I acknowledge my mistake) that day. So I left it at that. The idea of dinner lingered, but silence could only mean that he went through with it, and I can't help but be disappointed. Not in him, but him in relation to me. He knew I liked him at some point and he was telling me these things, and for what?

But then he invited me to dinner. He picked me up, and we went to go eat. I remember myself shrinking in the car, disenfranchised with this new information. Off balance but maintaining composure, perhaps even repressing my thoughts and feelings. So we talked and I caught him up on my own love life, or rather the series of sexual partners I had, but not why. That was the most damning part and I wouldn't tell him that much, not yet at least. He already looked at me with such pity, I felt, and I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. 

So he told me about Sam, how he was always jealous and irrationally so. Clingy but impossibly foolish. The break up was a long time coming. But finally ,Sam cheated on him, and Luke made the obvious choice. Then Sam tried to kill himself. Went straight to the mental ward for maybe a day or two, Luke said, and then released without anyone but Luke knowing. And he failed all of his classes because of this mental breakdown. Luke still talked to him every day, and it was out of pity and regret. He was stuck in a corner and I did not envy him. But that was his story. Luke was trying to move on. So he was hooking up and told me details I had not asked for, images I'd rather not have. I forgive him for it, though.

Here was the blossoming of a new friendship. Now that Mariah was out of my life, something by cosmic attraction seemed to fill the void. He dropped me off after dinner, and I'm not sure what I did in my time. Maybe I was watching tv. I seemed to do that much too often these days. 

So then he called me sometime around midnight. I didn't have my phone on hand, so I called him back. No answer, so I texted him. He was upset, so I offered to come over and talk. Eventually, he agreed. Apparently, his ex tried to kill himself. And he wanted Luke to see via video chat. He was drunk and had swallowed pills to boot. Luke called the police and Sam was in the hospital. Luke had a panic attack, and then I came over. And we talked about it and walked about campus. I felt like it was a good idea, like that traumatic experience would not necessarily bring us together but bring him some peace if his ex survived and solace from the cage he was inherited. 

Then on Sunday, I came over again and we walked around. This was not so much just about Sam, because I confessed how awful I had been feeling and how extensively, not from the recent events that transpired but actually my life in his absence. I divulged a lot, too much, really, but I did nonetheless. I even read him that narration of our origin story and how I had once had a crush on him. Not anymore, though. I told him how I felt we were irrevocably friends in some celestial manner, that I felt it odd and inexplicable but not obligatory. He himself felt better than last night and I thought the summer was off to a good start. 

Then, I say this 3 months into the future, we didn't talk after that. We didn't hang out and once he asked me to get him wine for a friend's birthday. I got Alex to get it for him, and then Alex told me later that it was for a date, as if that were to bother me. What did bother me was that he thought it best to keep that a secret from me, as if I would get jealous or possessive. Thinking back, I don't regret this weekend, but I felt Luke misunderstood my intentions. I don't mind that he knows dark things about me, but clearly he didn't trust me the way I trusted him. It was understandable given his past, but I can't help but feel wistful.

For the longest time, I've fully pitied people rather than empathize with them. It was a real problem, but I slowly learned. But in this case, I'm not quite sure if he gets my pity or my empathy. Not that it matters anymore. It's just another case of someone who doesn't want to be my friend, and I can live with that.

I did text him to ask his ex's name, but at the time of finishing this post, he had not responded. I've actually sent him about once a month a simple "Hey!" because I harbor no ill will and I'm too much of an optimist. I'll also send him a link to this, both because I would like him and everyone in the world to read my journal as I think it's well-written and it shows me how I see myself and because closure to this closure would be nice. A simple "Leave me alone, Eric." or "I'm tired of you harassing me" however nice or harsh would be a greater comfort than an open silence that spans the landscape of my mind. 

In a similar fashion, these twenty one pilots lyrics from "Be Concerned" fir perfectly with the story:

Okay, I'm so sorry, diary, for waiting so long to recount this past week. A lot has happened but let's go through it day by day:

Wednesday:

I took the bus back to Dallas and on it I read The Help  and nearly cried my eyes out on the bus. Then I continued reading my biography of Andrew Jackson. I got home and well, I didn't do anything at all! Maybe I watched TV but that's about it. Poughkeepsie got really needy so I tended to his desperate loneliness. But that's it for Houston. I didn't see Georgia or John but I don't care at all.

Thursday:

My first day of orientation for the International Rescue Committee! I wore business casual as they asked and my goodness there were so many other interns! 19 in total! And they were so friendly! I made friends with this girl named Cindy and Kelsey who is Ghanian, and a girl from Italy, a boy from Alabama. This hipster guy from UNT who reminds me of Matt. We went to lunch at Whole Foods, and I'll be damned! I was so entertaining and we talked for a whole hour about nothing at all and everything at once. I and about 10 others stayed for the rest of the afternoon for our Resettlement training. I went home at around 5 and my goodness everything was perfect in my life. There was a happy hour for us at a nearby restaurant (Blue Mesa), but I skipped it as I'm not 21 and what's the point?

Friday until end of Internship Orientation:

I came once more into the office, having walked from Park Lane Station, where a bum once again asked me for money. She was weathered from age and supposedly had diabetes, and I gave her a five. She continued to talk to me, which is fine, but she was behind me and it was quite awkward turning my head back to look her in the eyes. So I get there, and everyone is wearing them IRC shirt that they got the day before and jeans. And here I was in khakis and a button down. I looked like quite the fool! The orientation was rather short with little pertinent info, and off we went to lunch. We had, by the way, walked to the Whole Foods together. The day before, I walked alone and got there practically at the same time everyone else who drove did. We had quite the laugh at this. So we lunched once more, and let me say this now, I am going bankrupt eating lunch at Whole Foods everyday! What's wrong with me? What's wrong with Whole Foods charging $9 for a pound of food? But I digress. Afterwards, Resettlement got back to the orientation and we just walked around the neighborhood where the refugees mostly lived. It was somewhat rundown but the people were certainly cheery. After an hour of walking, we were released from the orientation, and I came back home. There, I just made my dinner and waited to watch Hannibal. It was a crazy episode, and then I sat in bed while Twenty One Pilots played. That's when something major happened, the key movement of the weekend.

Tuesday was really, really great.

But first, let me give you a short introduction to how I know Andrew. Over winter break, he was on Growlr, an app, and he was really close to me. So we got to talking, and he's super adorable and quirky. He's also a furry, but that doesn't even matter! He's really into goats, which just adds to his character. So I hung out with him not once but three times over winter break, and he was absolutely great. We'd play video games or watch a movie, order pizza and eat it on the floor like little kids. Just fantastic. There's more to the story, but I think that's enough to go by.

So I went over to his house at like 10, because his dad doesn't like visitors over. We hug and he jumps up and I carry him to his room. He's cute like that. Anyways, we eventually settle on watching Orange is the New Black, and we sit on the couch. Then we start cuddling and pretty soon we're making out. I'll skip all the graphic details, but we have sex. And then we go back to being all casual and watching Orange is the New Black and we order a pizza. He puts the special instructions as "Draw goats on the box" and they do! Lots of actually well-drawn goats! And then he gets cream soda and we eat on the floor with our legs crossed and I feel five again. Then we watch another episode, and we start cuddling, yadda yadda, sex again. It was crazy. Then we take a nap and then eventually wake up, and I leave around 3. My dad picks me up and my hair is crazy from well, you know, but everyone knows my hair is always a mess, so it doesn't matter.

And John, we planned to go to Dave and Buster's at like 5:30. He cancels, says his mom (she's a teacher and he works for the elementary school) is making him help with the field trip on Wednesday and has the car Tuesday. I'm already over it by the time he's done telling me. So I tell Linda we should hang out, and pretty soon, I'm at her house, and then we're at the bus stop. I kid you not, there was a black man in a baggy hoodie riding in the middle of the (busy) road in front of us a pink bike and in his right hand is none other than a red wrench. Let me tell you, Linda and I didn't stop cursing the damned city of Houston for another few hours.

So I was in Houston for Monday and Tuesday, and so far, John, Georgia, and Andrew (he's a kid in Houston that I'm not sure I mentioned? His bio will be in here) wanted to see me. 

John was supposedly free on Monday, so I messaged him if he was. He didn't message me back until around noon, saying he had plans at 5, movies. So I said, okay, we can either go get coffee now or reschedule. He said he was fine with coffee, and we set about planning where and when. I suggested Dirk's Coffee where I went often with Georgia, but apparently they closed down since last I visited. John recommended the Nook, a coffee shop around UH, and I said sure. But I got a pang of social anxiety because I'd have to meet him there and I really, really don't want to wait with other college students and then ride a bus back. Maybe that was why, maybe it wasn't, but I said no, we'll reschedule for either Tuesday or Wednesday morning. And that was that.

Andrew, his father made him do yard work so we couldn't meet at all on Monday, but he was free all of Tuesday. Fine by me, and that was that.

And my mom wanted to take me to buy business casual clothes for my internship, so off we went. I'm not sure how often I point this out, but I'm pretty sure I'm my mom's favorite. Not only did she come down to Dallas on her birthday to see me, but she also came to pick me up on Mother's Day. Now she was taking me clothes shopping and asking about this and that. She's obsessed with me, of which I am glad. So we went and I got clothes and then we went grocery shopping, because I'm still a little kid and she wants me to push the cart for her. While at Foodarama, the strangest thing happened. Normally, people stare at me, for some reason, and in turn I look them straight in the eye until they turn away, embarrassed or overpowered. It's quite fun, if you haven't had the opportunity or gall to meet a complete stranger's gaze for that long. But it happened. This black woman was staring at me and she was at the end of the aisle that I was heading towards. I was passing the frozen foods and Popsicles while looking right at her, and she at me. So I kept walking forwards, and eventually, I was turning to go down the meat section, and I was turning my body, but my head even slower so I could still keep eye contact. Well, I'll be damned. She did not look away and I had to face the fact that she was staring daggers at my back, and I haven't the slightest idea why. 

So we came back home, and I, not having anything to do, went to the swing that I love so much. It's in the front yard where I can watch cars pass by while under the cool shade of a giant tree and in the middle of a garden of colors. And eventually, my mom left to temple (I think there's a post in here about that strange event every Monday night) and handed me some cash in case I intended to go out. So, all that was left at the house was my brother and my dogs that just stared at me while I kicked back and forth. Mocha, the husky we got in December that hates approaching us and runs away almost immediately, just sat down in front of me and watched me closely for maybe 30 minutes. Finally, I wondered if the hammock in the back was available, so I walked on back, my pets following me. It wasn't, but I moved all the machines out of the way (a go-cart that was a new acquisition and an all-terrain vehicle that worked but served no purpose) and just laid there. It was truly calming and I felt at peace with the world. My brother finally left as well, and I was alone with the dogs. They frolicked around me, playing among themselves in the way that only dogs and children can. Mocha kept approaching me and tried biting into the hammock, but that was of no concern to me. 

And then Georgia texted me again. She messaged me while I went shopping with my mom, saying she was free after her online class, but she wouldn't know when that would be. So I said I'd wait, that it's no problem. It was now around 5 or 6 in the afternoon, four or five hours later, saying that she's had login problems and that she's nowhere near done. She then promised to whisk me away late at night and then we could catch up. So I agreed, as I had ten times before now to the change in plans. Then I thought, as I normally do, that I really don't need this. I'm fine by myself, and I'm happy relaxing as I had all afternoon in total isolation. Then I thought of Matt, and how I really enjoyed that he wants to be my friend in the purest way, and I cried there in that hammock with joy. It was a confounding feeling, but I'm grateful that I have Matt in the most platonic way. So I stayed there for half an hour more, reveling in the juxtaposition of my life and my former friends. Then I realized I hadn't eaten since the morning, so I headed inside. I made myself food and listened to a Planet Money podcast, and still I felt at peace. It was getting dark, so I stayed inside and played a video game until slowly everyone came home. I read more of The Help, and it was all just so profoundly sweet.

Then Georgia sent me another message, apologizing that it's so late and that she can't after all, see me. She said she'll just see me next time. I said it's not too late for me that we could go to a diner and be Nighthawks, but no. Her friends took the car to Kingswood, so it can't happen. I said I understood, although it baffles me that she hadn't thought of that before when she promised she was free since her friends were out celebrating a religious holiday. And, well, the lyrics of Lily Allen's Fuck You pretty much sum up how I really felt:

Fuck you Fuck you very, very much 'Cause we hate what you do And we hate your whole crew So please don't stay in touch Fuck you Fuck you very, very much 'Cause your words don't translate And it's getting quite late So please don't stay in touch

So, Friday. It was pretty uneventful. Juhi had one last couple orientation and she asked me to come along. We talked a good portion about our lives, and I'm just so astounded to learn that everything that Linda and Mariah say about her is entirely different from what she is. She's full of self deprecating humor and laughs at nearly everything I say. She's stressed, for sure, but who isn't at this point in the semester. She went on a date and she told me all about it! It was great, and I gave her some advice to boot. We're definitely getting to be good buddies. As for the rest of the day, I think I watched some TV and then cleaned for a while. Not much at all.

So Saturday. I woke up, and went to pick up my TV from Linda's. I went over and her mom surprised me by being there (I thought she was in a hotel and had hoped to avoid her, which is why I didn't see Linda at all on Friday in the afternoon.) I took my TV back and she asked me to help Linda move. Why, of course, I've nothing better to do. I cleaned for a bit, did some laundry, and headed over. The whole ordeal lasted until 3 o'clock, and it was frankly satisfying to help, and they kept saying how strong I was, and I would laugh it off. Linda's mom would criticize her and we would laugh. We ate and then came back. I called my mom to see if she was on her way yet, and guess what! She was not. Not even slightly prepared to leave, actually. It was not 4, meaning that they would either get here around 11 or later if I knew my parents. So I went back to finish my laundry (yes, I'm one of those people who leaves it in the machine for hours on end - just this time) and these fuckers left it all on the tables. This Indian guy would just stare at me with such disdain every single time I walked in to move loads to the dryer. Finally, it was all done. I moved all the contraband that I had to an undisclosed location and my parents waltzed in at 10:30, maybe because they raced down the highway at 90 miles an hour. Then came the criticism of how I never clean. This old song and dance. 

Oh, wait! One more thing! While I was walking my dog around the apartment complex, I came across two things. The first was the secret dog society that used to meet on Sunday at around 8pm, and I guess they moved it to Saturdays at 7pm for some odd reasons (maybe they were avoiding me.) The second was a can of Coca-Cola, unopened. Just laying in the grass, rather cool to the touch. So I swiped it and went on my merry way. I put it in my fridge and later drank it with the pizza my parents made me order (But Mooooooooom, pizza has so much gluten, I whined.)

So on Sunday, we go shopping for some stuff I badly needed but was too lazy and/or broke to get myself, and we had breakfast together. And then my dad walked Saigen for the umpteenth time, and we departed for Houston. As I was leaving, I thought to myself, "You know what? You still haven't heard back from Zach, but you just want to be friends. You just want to talk. And you really do love Bombay Bicycle Club, so invite him to the concert." and so, I sent him that question, knowing that he seemed to be fused into his phone, I expected a quick reply. But nothing, not in five minutes, nor thirty, nor the four hours of driving. And I thought, once more, as is my mantra for the summer:

You don't need to make friends. You don't need to mend friendships. You need to learn to love yourself. Learn about yourself.

So I didn't bother. 

Furthermore, I was finally reading The Help again, and let me tell you. I love that book. I love it to death. I read at least 300 pages on the way back. Whatever disdain I have for white people for all their history, this amplified it tenfold. I am still appalled at the very small abuses white people can sustain for entire populations of the earth. Not to mention the economic disempowerment. But that's neither something I can change at the moment nor something I will rant about right now.

Another development that I skipped over entirely is that Georgia contacted me once more. She wanted to meet up, catch up, that jazz. I still don't trust her, I'll be quite honest with you all. Every since she lashed out at me during the whole Gibson debacle of the Spring of 2013, I don't trust her one bit. She seems manipulative and I can't surround myself with that anymore. But she texted me on either Saturday or Friday, I cannot recall. But she wanted to meet while I was in Houston, maybe Sunday, she said. So I agreed. Why not listen to what's been going on? Then she texted me on Saturday, how it was Mother's Day and that we couldn't hang out. That's fine, I assured her. Then on Mother's Day she texted me that we might be able to meet if I'm not too busy. So I said sure, and she said that she'll see. Then she texts me at 11pm that her outing with her mother turned out to be a whole day event. I understand, I said. Then she asked what I did with my mom and I told her about the peach farm outing on the way back to Houston at Fairfield, Texas. I'm pretty sure she feigned interest, but I'm not too sure.

Thursday came around. Global Politics and all. My exam went great. I wore my "I've given up" hoodie and plaid "I've given up" cargo shorts in the rain to the exam. I sat in the very last row because I was so late, and it always baffles me to see students cheating, and yet there it is. I didn't say anything because why would I? And then I left early than most of the class. Doesn't matter though, as I waited for the heavy rain to subside for a good ten to fifteen minutes. 

Then I went home and stopped thinking for maybe an hour. I might have ordered myself lunch, but I can't recall. Then I took my Theories of Justice final online, but my heart wasn't in it. There has perhaps in the past 6 years of finals no taking of an exam with less effort. I just didn't care for the class, minus the debate (read previous entry for that story), and I did well enough on the last two exams to make a decent grade. And I flunked it. 65, the lowest grade I've ever gotten on an exam in college. But that's neither here nor there. I'm looking at a B+ or A- in the class.

That being said, I'm not sure what else was going on in the day. I really don't recall, because my other memories of the day, although being but 6 days ago, was that I was checking my OKCupid, and you'll never guess who looked at my profile. Why, it was none other than. . . 

Luke. The Luke that I knew had a boyfriend, the one that tried sleeping with me one night in January (that's more of an exaggeration really: he kissed my hand, told me how big he was, and was testing how sensitive I am) had it not been for Viviana. It was him, which is not a surprise at all given that he's had maybe 8 boyfriends (he uses the term loosely, referring to a one week fling as a boyfriend deal) met through OKCupid. But that was over with. He had his boyfriend who went to UT in Austin, who was in a fraternity, who, let's be honest here, looks like me, and yet his name escapes me. No, wait, it's Tony. Tony, he didn't like me. I first met him around Halloween, and he first saw me in my Wilfred costume that I wore to Freakers' Ball. Before I stopped talking to Luke, he told me how protective Tony was. Once, Luke was legitimately crying because he was failing Calculus 2, and I invited him to Denny's with Mariah and me. He told Tony, and well, the next time I saw him was at the Young the Giant's concert, where he glared at me the entire time.

But I digress. Luke was on OKCupid, meaning they broke up. I suspected it was because Luke cheated on Tony, because his life seems crazy that way. But who am I to judge? How well can I really know Luke? So, I looked at his profile. We're about an 85% match, it seems, which makes my crush status on him seem like it has a logical foundation (it really probably doesn't). And because OKCupid tells you when someone sees your profile, he messaged me almost immediately. It was a general conversation starter. Actually, I'll post the whole conversation, because why not:

Luke: Hey Eric, how's it going?

Me: Swell, I suppose. How are you?

Luke: Could be better

Luke: Tony and I broke up btw

Luke: About 2 and a half weeks ago

Me: I guessed as much. What happened?

Luke: He cheated on me

Me: The closest thing to a relationship I had was with Mariah and we kinda broke up too haha

Me: Oh, snap. I did not expect that

Luke: Really? You and Mariah are no more?

Me: Nope. We haven't talked in about a month

Luke: How do you feel about that? Like, are you happier? Just curious

Me: Mixed feelings. I have to make a whole new circle of friends, but it's better than having friends that use you

Luke: Hmm true I felt she did that sometimes

Luke: Whatcha doing right now

Me: Literally nothing. I'm just laying in bed with my dog

Me: What about you?

Luke: About to shower

Luke: My apartment is a train wreck. I should clean it

Me: Are you staying the summer?

Luke: Yes

Me: Me, too

Me: Hey, do  you want to hang out sometime?

Me: I understand if you don't

Luke: We can meet up sometime

Me: I definitely want to catch up

And that was it. I hope it didn't sound like I want to date him or anything. I feel that's not for me at this point in my life. No, the truth is that before we stopped talking, or maybe because of it, I told him about how I felt depressed and how I was crying all the time. One time, I told him I wasn't okay, because he always asked if I was. He even asked after Young the Giant, which was sweet, because although I lied at the time, as I had lied every time that he had asked before then. And that one time I told him, he guessed (correctly) that I wanted to kill myself. And then he stopped talking to me altogether, maybe because of the aforementioned, maybe because I had estranged myself with Viviana by saying some very cruel things when I blacked out at S4, maybe for no reason at all. 

But that's not the point. What I want to do is tell him I'm sorry that I told him, that he didn't need that. He just so happens to be one of those special people that I, for some reason, have the distinct desire to tell the truth, the whole truth, from beginning to end. So far, I recognize 4 people in my life that fit that category, and maybe that's why I have a crush on him. But I really do want to confide in him, and hopefully he'll confide in me. And that'll be just grand.

Not that this will happen. I know it probably won't. It's been nearly a week and he hasn't responded to me, and while this is nothing significant, it's given me lots to mull over. I don't need anything. I can do fine all by myself and I hope he finds that he's fine all by himself.

I'll have to catch you up on the entire week that I've missed. I'll start simple:

Monday and Tuesday were almost entirely identical. I hurt all over from dancing too much at Suburbia. I woke up on Monday with a sore body, and that was entirely expected. I'm not one to work out so the buildup of lactic acid is entirely understandable for Monday. I walked my dog like usual but mostly stayed in bed and complained about it all. I woke up on Tuesday, and lo and behold, pain still permeated my being. I just gave up, really. I knew my finals were on Thursday, so I was totally fine staving off all the studying that was due.

So Wednesday came around, and, well, I still hurt. It was a sign from the Powers that Be that I should start working out, a sign, by the way, that is not an imperative nor should it be. My life is my own, not subject to the purview of some mysterious deity that dictates what the restraints of my freedom and makes the limitation of my physical plane clear. In other words, I was going to stay my lazy self. This day was different though. I wrote my mom's final essay for her English class, the topic of whether colleges should implement the pass/fail or letter grading scales,. I picked pass/fail because the example of med schools picking up this tradition is in all the research these days. So it was.

And then I stayed up until god knows when studying the powerpoints and notes for Global Politics. But this goes into Thursday, and Thursday is an entirely different topic. That's when my introspection once again begins, so you'll hear that later, folks.

So as usual, I woke up too early on Sunday morning. I killed about four hours by watching Ricky and Morty and playing with my dog, then went over to Linda's.

Today was the day we saw Twenty One Pilots again, for the fifth time. And I would also see Smallpools, Blue October, J-Cole, and David Guetta. I figured I would only enjoy Guetta if I were drunk, so I put vodka in a water bottle. I had no real provisions for drinking it except straight in moderation. I wore my Twenty One Pilots shirt and my snapback, which I usually avoid wearing as it makes me look legitimately twelve years old. But here's a picture of me looking cute with my best friend Linda:

So we get there at around 2 after the normal 3 eternities of trekking, this time next to a scenic forest and lake. We get to the entrance and at this point I've sipped enough vodka to be tipsy. We go through the gate and thankfully, security didn't check my water bottle or smell my breath. 

We get to the stage and Smallpools has yet to come on. The crowd was sparse so we wove through until we were maybe 6 or 7 rows back. Smallpools comes on and people are the worst. The crowd is crappy and none of them have done their research on the songs that have yet to be released. Amateurs. So I sip so more vodka and at this point I am quite drunk. Not from sheer consumption but perhaps from the fact that I was sweating from the heat as well. Smallpools was fantastic though! They were funny and cute and all around perfect. They cracked a joke about how they just powered through half of the material that they released in the first 7 minutes. So then they left, and Linda and I assumed everyone else would leave as well. We were quite wrong. Most of the crowd were TOP fans, like every TOP show I've ever been to.  We even talked to a few of the people around us, they were so friendly. At one point, some guy asked if I were good for moshing, to wish I promptly said no and laughed.

Then they came on and the rush of the crowd pulled us closer. Once again, the concert was amazing, and I sobered up at the perfect moment. There are no words to describe a Twenty One Pilots concert. The crowd is a unique beast because it feels like every person knows every song. Tyler seems both afraid and proud to perform in front of us. He encourages us to get crazy and let loose while still being supportive of our every refrain. Their personality shines without speech, and I envy the past and future mes that were, are, and will be at a concert involving those two.

The concert ended and Linda and I, when Josh played the drums on the crowd, moved to second row, right behind the barriers. Blue October, one of my favorite bands since maybe 6th grade, was about to come on. Naturally, Linda was exhausted. She said she was dizzy an wanted to leave. I told her we didn't have to stay for the whole thing, even though I wanted to. But before they came on, she just had to go. So I was all by myself in the crowd, a first, really. The thing about being in front is that you don't know if people are going crazy behind you, but it feels like it. It feels like everyone loves this song and adores this band, and for Blue October I hoped this to be true. The concert ended once more, and finally I was leaving the crowd.

I met up with Linda and we went to buy water ($4 a bottle, unbelievable!) while J-Cole was setting up to perform. I didn't and don't really care for J-Cole, so I suggested we eat instead. We got a personal sized pizza ($10 for those tiny morsels, unbelievable!) and sat down on a hill overlooking the stage. The sun was setting, and there was a breeze. If I were dating someone, I could have very well proposed in that moment. 

Lastly, David Guetta was coming up. We bought sodas ($5? Highway robbery!) and spiked them with vodka. I downed mine fairly quickly, since apparently I'm an alcoholic (I just don't mind the taste; I don't have a problem!) Then we braved the crowd once more. The thing about EDM is that you just have to be in the crowd to enjoy the music, not near the front. So we got to the center, and I was pretty drunk. The music came on and I danced like nobody's business, by which I mean I don't know how to dance and it's nobody's business to judge me. There were SOOOO many attractive guys in tank tops with nice arms.

Unlike Big Gigantic, I was really into this music, although I thoroughly enjoyed Big Gigantic (see last post for the truth.) But the most curious thing happened. David of Kappa Sig, who invited me to a party because Mariah wouldn't go alone and made me designated driver despite not knowing how to drive, who always directed conversations with Mariah away from anything I could possibly care about or even want to comment on, well, he shows up in the middle of the concert. At first he goes to whisper into Linda's ear and then he dances with her. He yells something at me, maybe a "Where's Mariah?" and then he just bolts off. A few minutes later, he's dancing with Linda again and he's teaching me how to dance, EDM-style. It's all a very surreal experience and I'm pretty sure he's on drugs. No matter, we keep dancing until the concert ends and we're jumping around like fools, pumping our fists like we're fighting a revolution.