w.w.a.s. #1

"Do you think some pregnant women might masturbate to fetuses?"


"WHAT? No! No one does that!" 


"Well, I know I certainly don't, and I wasn't saying I did..." 


"No one said you did! And no, pregnant women don't EVER masturbate to fetuses unless they're super messed up." 


"I know, that was more like a 'worst case' scenario. But, I mean, do you think sometimes they might finger themselves ever so lightly?"

the dayton days [69]

It's been a nice home. But maybe it's time to move on.

Monday. I worked 5:30-2:00. I spent the afternoon hanging out with Dylan, and come evening violent storms tore through, and I went on a drive through the storm, wearing my sepia sunglasses, the sirens wailing. The storm was beautiful and enchanting. I went to Caesar's Creek once the rains passed and the sun broke through the storm-clouds, and I smoked off the path and then went to work to see Carly. She was freaking out because of the storm. 

Tuesday. I worked 6-2:30 after another night of beautiful storms. I went to North Park when I got off and smoked at the hilltop where I used to gather with Chris, Lee, and Dewenter, and where I took Julie way back when. I spent a lot of time thinking about Jessica, her being hot-and-cold, me feeling powerless amidst it all, wanting to be with her so fucking bad but all her issues blocking me from what I want with her. I want to move down to Cincinnati, but Tazza Mia isn't hiring right now. So I thought about transferring down there, and gave lots of calls to Starbucks downtown and in the Cincinnati area. None are hiring at the moment, but they said to keep calling back.

Wednesday. I worked until 1:00. I told Faith about my plans to transfer. She wasn't happy about it but understood. Her first question was, "Have you told Jessica and Carly?" It's no secret we're all great friends, the envy of the store. I told Jess about it after work. "Maybe wait until July?" she asked. Both she and Carly expressed sadness over me leaving the store. "You're such a great barista, one of the best, if not the best, and it'll weaken our team because your friends with everyone, not least with us." I went to Caesar's Creek and then hung out with Dylan for the last time in 2 1/2 years, since he's going to Mozambique (though he said there's a chance he may be able to visit halfway through). We got salads at DLM, watched TV, played Mario-Kart, smoked on the front porch. I went to North Park when he left, some big-ass storms rolled through. I may have been in the path of a tornado? I told Jess about my close call, and she told me of her own: running into the basement to hide, and her cat lacerated her boob. "The bastard will die next time."

Thursday. I worked 6-1:00. Jess, Carly, and I hung out after work. Kyle wanted to join, but no one wanted that, so we made up an excuse and sent him on his way. Jess changed into a super hot outfit and we hit up DLM and went to Carly's apartment to hang out. At one point Carly was literally lying on top of me, our lips but inches apart, and she asked how I could keep myself from kissing someone as beautiful as her. I told her that she's indeed beautiful, but it's easy to resist, "because you do nothing for me." She said she's never seen such self-control. If only she really knew me! Carly noticed me and Jess flirting, especially Jess. Relaxed, finally in a good mood, and free of the confines of work, Jess let loose. She asked me to massage her feet, showed off the scratch on her upper breast, shared some playful and antic fights, and she rolled around on the ground giggling and stared me down with passionate eyes. She pretend fought with me, too. We went to get ice cream, and Cars asked Jess how she feels about me possibly going down to Cincinnati in the next month or so: "It's the same distance between Wilmington and Cincinnati as it between Wilmington and here, so it won't affect us much." We'll see.

Friday. I worked 7:30-3:30 and then went down to Cincinnati. Ams and I hung out at her apartment and got yogurt from Yagoot and dinner from Penn Station. We went to the Claypole House and smoked hookah with Rob & Amos and then went upstairs to hang out with Mandy, Ams, Gambill, and TJ. Mandy's friend from Soho, Jared, joined, too. Blake was gone so I slept in his bed. Oh: I have a job interview at Tazza Mia on Tuesday. Full-time food prep work. If I get it, I'll be golden.

Saturday. Dad and I got dinner at Applebee's. I just had a salad. He went to Setup at Southwest and I hung out on our back patio smoking and writing. I went by work to see Carly, but she'd traded shifts with Betsy and was in Cincinnati.

Sunday. Kyle & Vicki got married today. I made the 2 1/2 hour drive to the wedding, smoking in the car, such a nice drive. But I did get a sweltering headache. I served as an usher and sat with Josh & Mikaela, who're together now, through the reception. Usually at weddings I get depressed. Envious of the couple, sad at my own situation. I can count on my fingers the college friends of mine who aren't married or engaged. But tonight I wasn't. I wasn't happy, but I wasn't unhappy. I was apathetic. My cynicism prevents me from being moved at weddings like I used to be. The joy of those in love can't even break this stone-cold and calloused cynicism burrowed deep in my heart. 

memorial day weekend

The weekend’s been hectic, to say the least.

Friday. After work I headed down to Amanda’s apartment in Cincinnati, and we hit up Yagoot (a frozen yogurt shop) and Penn Station for dinner. We linked up with Mandy, John Gambill, T.J. and Amos at the Claypole House. Amos broke out the hookah and Rob joined in.

Saturday. Having spent the night at the Claypole House, I woke around 9:00 and made the drive back home. Took a four-hour recuperation nap, then spent the entire day cleaning, running errands, etc. Dad and I grabbed dinner at Applebee’s and Amanda came up and we smoked out on the back porch.

Sunday. The busiest day by far: I drove out to my friend Kyle’s marriage to his then-fiancé, now-wife Vicki. It was a 2 ½ hour drive out there, and I served as an usher and then spent the reception reconnecting with some old friends I hadn’t seen in a while: Josh and Mikaela, who’re now a couple. In the past weddings have made me depressed, the envy over love found and the sadness that I haven’t yet found it. Not the case Sunday. I wasn’t happy (other than being happy for them, of course), I was just apathetic. Shrugging my shoulders. I’ve become way too cynical to be moved by weddings. The warmth of love kindled can’t melt away the icy stone-cold shell of bitterness and stoicism wrapped around my heart.

Today (Memorial Day) has been rather uneventful. I’m glad just to have a chance to relax. I slept in, took a nap, and went for a drive with the windows rolled down and the sunroof open and just cruised down the winding country roads. A motorcyclist-wannabe, perhaps. Later Mom, Dad and I are getting dinner at O’Leary’s Pub, and then I’m going to be working out and going to bed. Between Then & Now I’ve got a lot of packing and getting ready to do. Tomorrow I open the store with Jessica, then I have a job interview in downtown Cincinnati at 2:00, and then I’m heading up to Wilmington for an all-night campout with a bonfire. It should be a ravishing good time, but I’ve still got to get everything together. Hopefully later in the week I’ll be able to take a breath again, but that’s doubtful.

on cincinnati

I’ve hammered out most of the details regarding my move down to Cincinnati, except for one: finding a job. I’m not necessarily worried about this. I have an interview Tuesday for a food prep position at Tazza Mia. Even if I don’t get it, I still have plenty of time to look for other (and possibly higher-paying) full time jobs. Come the end of summer, if I don’t yet have a job down there, I’ll probably be transferring to one of the local Starbucks cafés; come autumn, employees tend to leave and full-time positions become available. All the stores down there which I’ve called report the same trend and encourage me to call back around that time. When I move down, I’ll be taking Hartman’s room, the Dungeon: it’s in the basement, quite small (like a monk’s quarters), and the rent’s dirt cheap. Come September or October, Amos and Blake will be leaving, so I’ll be moving into Blake’s room. Amanda will be moving into Amos’ room, and thus it’ll be me, Rob, Mandy, and Amanda sharing a place together (Tony’s leaving for Illinois at the end of the month; and Isaac may be moving in, though that’s unlikely). Right now, though, it all boils down to finding a job (and getting as much medical work done as I can now when I’m under Starbucks insurance).

I’m excited and optimistic about moving down to Cincinnati, though nervous, too. I don’t want my friendship with Jessica and Carly to be affected; and I’m not sure how the move down will affect the chances of me and “the girl” ending up together. I’ve created a comfortable little home here, and as much as I love change, I fear plunging into something not as good. This is doubtful, of course, because so many great people whom I love will be down in Cincinnati with me. But at the same time, there’s the nervousness, the questioning—“Is this really best? Will I regret this? How will this change my current state-of-affairs, for good or for ill?” These are all questions that have no answers, because the future is as of yet unwritten; nevertheless, these questions dance in my mind, but not with the effect of me turning my back on Cincinnati. No, I’m going, and I’m excited, and don’t let those nagging thoughts tell you that I don’t want to do this, because I do and more than anything.

Regarding the girl thing, things have been getting better. We’ve started hanging out again, and both of us have been settling in with one another quite comfortably. We’re at ease again, enjoying one another’s company, not letting the drama ruin our moments together, just being who we are with one another and enjoying every minute of it. It’s good to be back to that, and I’m pretty sure she flirted with me (knowingly or not) last time we hung out. I’m trying not to run with it, because I know she’s still figuring stuff out, and I don’t want to jump on the ship before it’s seaworthy. She’s said that she’s not concerned about me moving down to Cincinnati; it’s not that far away, and our friendship’s solid enough to withstand it. Who knows? Perhaps the move itself will be a catalyst moving us towards the “us” end-goal that I’ve been hoping for. I don’t really know, and ultimately I’m not too worried about it. There’s a certain liberation found in “just going with the flow,” “seeing how it pans out,” and “just letting things happen.” You’re not bound by your own resolve to manipulate circumstances or interpret everything through a certain set of lens. You’re freed from all the biggest anxieties whirling around the whole ordeal, able to breathe easily and freely in the knowledge that whatever happens, it’ll be all right. That’s something I’ve come to learn.

the tornado

Add onto my favorite hobbies storm-siren-chasing (not to be confused with storm chasing). The last week or so has been filled with tornado warnings and tornado sirens, and sitting on the front porch listening to them, I realized there were actually sirens in three different locations. I made a decision to find all three. I paid attention to the weather over the next week, and Wednesday night a massive storm cell moved through. I watched the storm roll in while sitting on the swings at North Park; the storm-clouds moved over the trees in front of me and then the sirens went off. People started running for their cars and I stood, stretched, lit a cigarette, and walked to my car. The next twenty minutes were rather uneventful, just the sirens wailing and the sky growing darker. No rain, no bad wind, nothing. I was on Route 48 turning onto Spring Valley to drive by work when the wind hit. We're talking sixty, seventy-mile per hour winds. The rain came down in slashing sheets, wholly obscuring my vision as I drove down Spring Valley into the storm. Cars shrieked past me, heading the opposite direction; they kept flashing their lights in warning. Three cars ahead of me remained resolute, at least until the furthest one dove into a subdivision, followed by the other two. I couldn't see anything, the wind was growing stronger, and that's when the hail started. Massive hail, the size of golf balls and even tennis balls, careening from the sky with such force that when they hit the road they leapt ten, fifteen feet into the air before slamming down onto my car (now covered with dents; thank God the windshield and windows didn't break). I drove through the subdivision and tried to navigate my way out of it, flinching with each piece of hail hitting the windshield right in front of me. By this time there were no cars anywhere, and all I could hear were the sirens barely above the racket of the wind and rain and hail. I pulled out of the neighborhood onto Route 48, now a ghost town. I drove north, thinking I was heading in the opposite direction; but the winds grew stronger and then the rain around my car began moving in circular motions, radiating out from a fixed point far ahead of me, hidden in the rain. This amazed me, spiking my curiosity; and then the trees on either side of the road ahead of me started bending over backwards, limbs breaking off and flying through the air past my car like missiles. "Oh my God, there's missiles!" Terrified, I did a U-turn in the middle of Route 48 and nearly fishtailed into a ditch. I gunned it the opposite direction and then the rain slackened and the hail stopped and the sun was shining. My heart pounded in my chest and I looked back behind me to see nothing but inky, green blackness behind me. I later learned that there had indeed been an F1 tornado in that specific area, not causing any injuries, just damaging structures and roofs and knocking down power lines and trees. 

And I was wearing sunglasses the whole time so everything was sepia. 

How artistic and awesome.

developments (or lack thereof)

Things with the girl have continued without any real development; or, should I say, without any forward movement. As of late things seem to have been going backwards, our friendship weakening under a series of pressures striking us at every conceivable angle, compounded by all the anxiety-ridden drama that I unleashed upon us like a hurricane. Honestly, it’s seemed to fluctuate; things seem good some days, other days they seem bad. No words on the matter have been spoken, not since a day after it happened (2 ½ weeks now, which really isn’t a long time, though it’s felt three times that). I miss the way things were. I miss our texting conversations, her eagerness to hang out, the way she’d be so at ease and relaxed around me. I miss the way we’d laugh and horse around and just be care-free kids all over again. Walking Sky through the rain, climbing trees, drinking beers at her apartment while watching episode after episode of comedy sitcoms. I miss our openness and honesty, our vulnerability and mutual acceptance; not that the latter has been affected, as we both accept one another as we did, but there seems to have arisen some sort of ethereal barrier preventing our friendship not only from moving forward but also from regaining its former prestige. I miss all that, and this new number in the equation—“Us?”—has definitely put a halt in things.

When I think about the earlier times, it makes me sad both because (a) they’re gone, and (b) because they may never be again. As our friendship grew, and as we each internally and unspokenly wrestled with the idea of us, we got glimpses and foretastes of what we could be. Laughter, happiness, vulnerability, confessions, acceptance of one another for all our flaws and shortcomings. But these glimpses remembered may be memories of a future found only in my mind. That former landscape has been polluted with unspoken thoughts, an at-arm’s-length friendship, and it’s basically like an atomic bomb—my being honest—was dropped on our relationship, and this current state-of-things is my (or, rather, our) Hiroshima. I like her, I really do, and I don’t regret being honest with her. It’s good to get these things off my (well, our) chest; we both wanted to talk about it, and we did, and without realizing it at the time, we may have opened up a whirlwind. Whether that whirlwind proves to be good or bad, well, we will see. That’s all you really can do. All I know is that I really want to be with this girl. She’s worth it, no doubt about that; probably the best girl I’ve met in a long time. And because of that, I’ll keep waiting. I’ll keep “staying the course,” so-to-speak, whether it ends up good or bad. In the meantime, I’ve got bigger things to worry about (though, in reality, the whole “girl” thing worries me more than anything; but logically I know it shouldn’t). Now, there are moments of reprieve; moments when things seem to be kicking back into gear, but these are always short-lived. I don’t know what’s going through her mind; and despite brief twinkles in her eyes and the occasional flirting, the nature of our “conversation” (used in the KJV sense, referring to our words and deeds) seems to imply that either (a) she’s already figured out what she wants and doesn’t want to break the news, or (b) she’s still in the process of feeling out how she feels about “us.” So for the moment, I’m still waiting. Not as hopeful or optimistic as before, but nevertheless I’m trying to be patient; and meanwhile I’m trying to focus my energies on a possible move to Cincinnati.

Yep, that’s right. Close to a year and half ago I moved home for loads of personal reasons. I’ve settled in nicely here, but the reality is that many of those people I love are in Cincinnati or moving away. Dylan’s going to Africa Tuesday, won’t be back till 2013(or 2014?). Dewenter’s moving down to Cincinnati at the end of July. Tyler will be gone come December. Jessica’s leaving for Grad School. The only other person I hang out with here at home is Carly, and she’s in Cincinnati 2-3 times a week as it is. A few rooms will be opening up at the Claypole House over the next couple months, and I’ve talked to Rob and Mandy about it, and Ams too (she said I could crash at her apartment if I got a job and still hadn’t found a place to stay; Mandy likes the idea of me moving down, and Rob’s not opposed). The issue is finding a job where I can pay my bills, but if it comes down to it, I can move down with a transfer through Starbucks and keep working there till I find something more sustainable. I’ve been wrestling with all this for a while now, and this morning I woke up to a text from my sister, telling me that she wishes I was down there. Well, I miss her and want to be close by, too. So tomorrow I’m going to talk to my boss about keeping my transfer ability open for stores in Cincinnati or northern Kentucky. And I’m going to be searching for other Cincinnati jobs in the meantime that could support me even more. If I stay here in Centerville for another year, then I’ll have pretty much no one. Many of those whom I love are in Cincinnati, so why shouldn’t I be there? 

the storm

the dayton days [69]

Amos' tattoo and Blake

Monday. Sky had nightmares all night, so I crawled down beside her with my blanket and pillow and she curled up next to me and slept like a baby the rest of the night. So precious. I  opened with J.J. Dylan and I went down to Cincinnati, and we crowded the upstairs at Claypole with Mandy, Amos, and Ams. We got Rock Bottom for dinner: Dylan and I split the nachos and barbecue pizza. Gambill joined us after work and then we headed back to Claypole and hung out late into the night, didn't get home till about 1 AM.

Tuesday. I opened with Jessica: we hit 53 transactions per hour in DT, a new record. I was a speed bar, of course. Jess and I got off at the same time and ran some errands: Hobby Lobby, Toys-R-Us, and we went by Pep Boys and I picked up my new radiator. She dropped me off at home, and I spent the evening writing before a late-night visit with Carly at the 'Bux. "Jess is driving me crazy," she said. "One day she's like, 'Anthony's calling me too much,' and the next day she's all put off because you didn't try to talk to her."

Wednesday. I worked 5:30-2:00. I overslept and barely made it to work. Jess and I hung out on the patio after work, and Carly went on break and ran to the store and returned bearing gifts of hummus. The three of us sat out on the patio eating, and Abby joined us, too. "You look hot today," Carly said; "And I can say that because I'm your friend." The rest of the day was spent in the garage with Dad, installing the new radiator. Hopefully now the Celica will run like a gem! No more smoking engine is definitely a plus.

Thursday. I worked 5:30-2:00 with a great crew. Jessica and I were supposed to hang out, but I couldn't get a hold of her. So I shrugged my shoulders and jetted down to Cincinnati to hang out with Mandy and Blake. Mandy told me everyone was amazed at the chemistry Jess and I had together: "It was so thick it could be cut with a knife!" We ran some errands and grabbed Skyline for lunch. Matt G. came over with some of his weird friends so I left. 

Friday. I had a doctor's appointment at 8:15. Diagnosis: bronchitis. Not fun. The nurse prophesied over me, told me God would make sure I ended up preaching. These prophecies come-and-go, it's kinda haunting. I went by work for an iced soy mocha, spent the afternoon working on "Reframing Repentance." Jess called me, said she was in town for a bit, so we met up on the patio at work. I headed down to Cincinnati when we parted ways, hung out upstairs with Mandy, Ams, and Amos. Isaac joined us, and Ryan, too, their gay friend from Tazza Mia. Rob grilled out and I smoked cigarettes with TJ and Gambill. 

Judgment Day. This bronchitis is killing me. I worked a short 11-3:00 shift. Jess had a baby shower to go to and changed into a dress. I walked her to her car. "How do I look?" she said. "You look good," I said. Fucking HOT is more like it. We smoked cigarettes at our cars, and then I went to Dylan's Going Away Party. I had some food and a beer and then drove home and enjoyed some fruit from Afghanistan and went on a late-night drive with the world turned sepia.

Sunday. Mom & I got China Cottage for lunch. Jess told me to meet up with her at 3:00 and we went to the Miamisburg Spring Fling to visit her friend Mary who had a booth set up. On the way back Jess said she hates her belly and wants to tone it up. Ridiculous! It's adorable. We have a work camp outing coming up, and she said, "If you don't want to sleep in a tent, you can just sleep in my bed." Ha. 

weekend re:cap

I spent most of the weekend in Cincinnati. Now that my car's (for the most part) fixed, I feel more comfortable driving long distances. Thursday night I hung out with Mandy and Amos, and Mandy and I ran some errands and I thought she was going to kill is. "This is how I always drive," she said. As if that makes her driving justifiable? We made it back to the Claypole House alive, and I headed home. Friday I went back down, spent the evening hanging out on the front porch with Rob, Amos, Blake, TJ, and Hartman, smoking pipes and cigarettes and drinking beer. Rob grilled out some hot dogs and the night ended with twilight coming and going and us all hanging out in the dead of night. Lots of us went out to the Hookah Bar in Clifton, but I stayed behind to hang out with Gambill, Mandy, and Ams a little bit longer. Definitely a good night, during which my bronchitis hit its peak (I'm doing much better now). Here's a picture I took of our "The Classics" club (privileged members include me, Blake, and Amos).

I had the house all to myself last night after Dylan's going-away party, and it got pretty wild. I cranked up Florence and the Machine and pretend-played guitar while singing at the top of my lungs (quite painful with bronchitis, to be honest); then I threw in some Kesha and started fist-pumping, and then a rave song came on and I ended up on all fours (as always happens when I go to a rave, strangely enough). I felt like such a kid, like such a fool, while doing it, but it was weirdly liberating. I could just go crazy, let the beast out ("Howl" was a favorite tract). I've spent the morning just relaxing, listening to Led Zeppelin and doing some writing, ran by work and shared a cigarette with Jessica, and now Mom and I are going out to lunch together. A mom-son date. Probably getting Chinese somewhere; my bet is China Garden, but I want to do something close to the Mall because I've got to run errands afterwards. This is way too boring for me to be writing. Damn it. 

new radiator

the old radiator. a piece of shit.

The Celica's slowly coming together. Granted, it's not in bad shape (just wear-and-tear issues to deal with), and it's nowhere near as bad as my Prizm had been. I can't imagine leaking gas right now, not with these astronomical prices (today I saw gas for an amazing $3.85 and filled up immediately). First I had to replace the alternator, and that was a nightmare. Then came the brakes, and I went ahead and installed new rotors and pads, the whole deal. Within the last few months, the radiator's been leaking, due to (a) a rusted cap-fit so that the pressure wasn't air-tight, and (b) multiple holes along the actual radiator. The problem escalated in the last week or so, with the car steaming every time I parked (coolant leaking and steaming against the hot engine); and then the car itself started overheating as the radiator lost its ability to function. Most estimates put the repair at around $400-500, but I bought a new radiator (only $150) and replaced it myself (a one-hour ordeal that became a three-hour ordeal as I kept running into problems; and not once but twice I screwed up and had coolant spraying all over the garage). Nevertheless, after much sweating and cursing, I finally got the radiator in and hooked up, filled her up with some top-notch coolant, and now the Celica's running without any hitches. It's crazy that I can actually feel a difference when I drive: the engine runs smoother and quieter, and high rpm's don't make the car shake, and I don't have the constant fear of the engine overheating. There's still some work to be done--a new upper radiator hose, which cost me only $13, and a new thermostat, which will be $20-30, both of which will be easy to replace--but the car's in much better shape, and I can breathe easier. Just in time, too: I've got a wedding in Indianapolis next weekend, and without this overhaul, my car would've died halfway there, and it'd been the second wedding I've missed in the last year. 

cincinnati trip

Dylan and I went down to Cincinnati yesterday, his "going away party" of sorts with our friends down there. We arrived at Mandy's around 3:00 and hung out with Amos, Mandy, Rob, and Amanda for a good long while. Even Isaac swung by. So much laughter, so many memories, lots of great moments, too many to count. Both of us had a fantastic time, and we polished it off with brewery nachos and barbecue pizza at Rock Bottom Brewery, our favorite downtown restaurant, located right on Fountain Square. All in all it was a great night, and I'm coming to see more each day how much I'll miss Dylan once he leaves. Less than two weeks now. Oh, I'll be seeing him a lot during that time (he's having his official going-away party this Saturday, sure to be a good time; I'm bringing my bourbon and we're going to take a going-away shot, toasting him for his travels and work in Mozambique). He'll be keeping an online journal, www.dylanyosick.com. I'll be visiting it nearly every day, I'm sure, to keep up with his experiences, adventures, and challenges in Africa. Please do the same if you love him even a small fraction as much as I do.

the dayton days [68]

Monday. I woke around 9:00, had coffee with Blake, Amos, and Mandy. Ams and I headed back to Dayton around noon. She dropped me off at my car in the employee lot and then went to run errands. I went into the shop and smoked with Jess on her 10. Dylan came over and we took cameo shots taking bourbon and "accidentally" got drunk. We parted ways around 5:00, and I met up with Mom, Dad, & Ams at The Olive Garden for our one-day-late Mother's Day celebration. 

Tuesday. I had four shots of espresso for breakfast. Jess finished her art project for work: a canvas painted with espresso. It looks pretty badass. I worked 2-9:00. It was crazy, especially until 5:00: 3-5:00 is Frappuccino Happy Hour. It's one step removed from hell (wouldn't that be purgatory?). Heat lightning peppered the horizon during my drive home. My cousin Jesse texted me: they're having a baby!

Wednesday. Lots of storms overnight followed by a breezing 6-12:00 with Carly and Jess. Jess and I shared lots of stories and laughter, and she bellied out with mention of my pointy "birthing hips." I call them "pelvic horns." I spent the evening hanging out with Carly: we went to her parents' condo, chilled outside in the sun with her mom and her sister Sammy.  Carly told me, "I'm so PISSED at Jess! She likes you! She knows you two would be great together! But she won't let herself experience something great!" Dylan and I got Gyro Palace for dinner--a "Going Away Dinner"--and then went back to the house for Mario-Kart paired with Woodford Reserve. 

Thursday. Hot. Humid. Rainy. I worked 6:30-3:30. Jess and Carly went out to eat for lunch, a super hush-hush event, and Cars told me they did a lot of talking about me. Really good talks. The freak-out is over. She calmed down, wrestled through the shit, and she told Carly, "I see potential with Anthony. I see a future there." She confessed to being drawn to me like a moth to light when she started working at Starbucks but turned a blind eye to it when she was promoted; but when I was dating Leah, she had to face the feelings surging up. She's seeing more and more the potential: her attraction to me isn't just because I'm cute and strong, it's due to "chemistry". Her attraction isn't surface-level, it's bone deep. She's attracted to me: my personality, my heart, my character, who-I-am. That's where the connection is. But as she relayed the conversation, it became clear: Jess is attracted to ME, but she's not so sure about my looks. Not that I'm unattractive: she's just into tall, husky, muscle-ripped guys. 

Friday. I worked a long and tiring 6-2:30. I spent the day in a fog, tried to wrestle free of it with some coffee and Cat-time at Starbucks, but it didn't work. Shitty days come. Best to just sleep it off.

Saturday. I worked 2:30-Close, my last close for a while. And my last Happy Hour for the year, thank God. I worked with Carly, Kyle, Asenath, and closed with Danny and Abby. Jessica and I had plans, but she cancelled. It's what she does now. *SIGH* I hate this. I never should've said anything, I feel like I'm getting tossed to-and-fro because she has no idea what she wants. It's a tempting idea, to just call it off completely and ask for a damned transfer so I'm not around her anymore.

Sunday. I had the day off and went to Starbucks to work on revising "Reframing Repentance." Jess came and sat with me for a bit, good and casual talking. My car's radiator is hosed, leaking everywhere, smoking like a Gandalf pipe. I ordered a new radiator, hopefully it'll fix the problem. 

5.15.11

Last night turned out to be quite rough. I got home around 11:30 following a long closing shift, and curling up into bed, I found myself overwhelmed by the knowledge of the disappointment and futility that has characterized my life thus far. “Death is not that which I fear, but life and its promise of misery at every turn.” An excellent quote. Hope has duped me yet again. I let my guard down, and it swooped in for the kill, sank its teeth into the soft of my neck. I must shatter this (self-)deception and crucify these laughable hopes on the altar of reality. *SIGH* I’m done trying to figure out why my life is the way it is. I’m done asking why I’ve been dealt this hand; the only thing I can do is try and play the game the best I can with the cards I hold. Some people have royal flushes, others have two pairs of Aces; I’ve got a mismatch of clubs and diamonds. Nothing I can do with that but fold and watch my dreams pass me by. In the past I’ve fought for my dreams, even to the point of spilling blood. But no more. I’ve embraced a sort of resignation. This is life:

What you want, you can’t have.

What you have, you can’t keep.

And that which you love will, eventually, be taken from you.

The best course-of-action isn’t to deny this, nor to try and argue it away. No, the best thing to do is to accept it. Embrace reality for what it is, not for what you want it to be. Reality doesn’t cater to our wants nor our whims, and if we try to color it up as something it’s not, we’ll just find ourselves bitch-slapped across the face. The deeper the delusion, the deeper the sting. I don’t like reality. I don’t want it to be like this. But I’ve got no say in the matter. 

the end of the week

The blogger website was down off-and-on for the last few days, seemingly whenever I actually wanted to post. Don't regard the lack of posts as evidence of my laziness. This will be a multi-layered post, with three parts: (a) the events of my week, (b) developing currents with the whole "girl" thing, and (c) news regarding some of my writing. If you're name is Blake, you'll probably just be interested in points (A) and (B), since you told me yourself, "I mainly just read about your daily events." So I'll go into detail just for you, Buddy.

Tuesday. Since I posted last Monday, I'm starting this off on Tuesday. I spent the morning/afternoon running a few errands, picked up some sunglasses, and played with Sky for a bit. I worked 2-9:00. Starbucks is doing their once-a-year "Frappuccino Happy Hour," which is really two hours (3-5:00) and not happy in the least (at least not for we who have to work it). It's essentially one step removed from hell (would that be purgatory)? J.J. noticed that my arms are looking bulkier. They'd better be, with all the exhausting workouts I've been doing over the past month or two. Even if it's not visible, I can tell the difference in the weights I lift. I've already increased five pounds, which is a pretty good leap forward. Next week it'll be 7 1/2 pounds since I started. Since I had to go in at 6:00 Wednesday, I went home, did some pilates, and went straight to bed.

Wednesday. Worked 6-12:00, a princess shift with a great crew. Jessica and I smoked before I headed home, and we joked about my "birthing hips", which are in actuality quite small (I'm a size 29-30, depending on the pants) but with bony "pelvic horns." I kinda feel like a pachycephalosaurus, which really isn't a bad feeling. They're bad-ass. Later in the day I hung out with Carly at her parents' house. We lounged around on the sofas for a while and then I left to enjoy Gyro Palace with the fantastic Dylan Yosick. It was a "last meal" that really isn't a "last meal," but we took pictures to make it look official. We went back to the house and we each took a shot of bourbon and sat on the front porch and smoked cigarettes. I climbed a tree and nearly fell out of it, scraping up my arm something awful. It still hurts. Here's the two of us enjoying our fantastic lamb gyros:

Thursday. After my 6:30-3:00 shift, I spent the day cleaning around the house, working out, playing with Sky. I went back to work to see Carly on her ten, and we sat on the patio and I smoked a cigarette and she drank her chai and we shared lots of laughs. I rushed home and went to bed.

Friday. Today's been pretty decent. Worked 6-2:30, then took a nap, and fixed dinner for the family. Grilled chicken sprinkled with olive oil and Italian herbs. Parmesan-encrusted roasted red potatoes (also with olive oil, along with some garlic seasoning and sea salt). I went by work to do some writing with free coffee and hung out with Carly and Mark (Abby's husband) on the patio, smoking our cigarettes and drinking our coffee. I'll miss these simple times. Storms are moving in and the temperatures are dropping. 

Okay, there's Part A. Now for Part B: developments regarding the whole "girl" situation. I've written about it on here a few times, and if you don't know about it, then scroll the fuck down and read it, because I don't want to go through it all again. There haven't really been any developments on the matter, as she's been pretty difficult to get a hold of. I don't know if she's avoiding me, feels awkward, or is just downright busy. I don't think she's ignoring me, as when I have seen her here-and-there, things have been quite friendly and good-natured. Nevertheless, the anxious little beast in my squirms for some sense of understanding, but I must be content to be left in the Void of Unknowing for the present moment. In time I'll know what's going on. Till then... Patience. Or something along those lines.

Now Part C. I've finished the first rough draft of "Re:framing Repentance." It's at 335 pages, and I've begun the tedious process of the second draft: going through it sentence-by-sentence, paragraph-by-paragraph, page-by-page, screening the text for inaccuracies, inconsistencies, and bad grammar. The most difficult is weeding out passive voice. When writing fiction, I write almost entirely in active voice; but when writing non-fiction, some switch is flipped and everything comes out passive. It's frustrating. Nevertheless, I'm about 1/4 the way through it, and it's looking good so far. I've already gotten one person to look through the second draft (Carly, who loves editing, and gets excited whenever she can bring out that red pen), and I may be able to have my dad or Joe (an elder at Southwest) look through it, as well. I'm just going to go the self-publishing route with it, because I don't have the credentials to get it published commercially. I've already started piecing together in my mind my next "non-fiction" work, entitled "An Ecclesiasticus: the confessions of a stoic christian atheist." It should be interesting. 

mother's day (II)

Upon waking up this morning, I found myself clutching a wonderful cup of French-pressed Rwandan (sorry for the confusion Tyler: I didn't actually press a native from Rwanda). A delightfully mild roast whose surprising taste surprisingly lingered. Thanks to Mandy for pressing the coffee: Blake, Amos and I were quite pleased. Back home I got some chores down around the house and even got to see Dylan for a bit. His going-away party is coming up, and I'm going to sneak him some bourbon for top-secret shots; and later this week I'm taking him out to Gyro Palace so that we can dine one last time. He leaves in three weeks, and the realization of it still hasn't hit me. I'm sure when it does, I'll find myself so discombobulated that I won't know how to function. This evening we celebrated Mother-Boy with a surprisingly speedy dinner at The Olive Garden. It was good to have the whole family together for an old tradition. These family dinners hardly happen anymore, with everyone being so busy all the time. Behold my entree: Seafood Portafino. Mussels, scallops, shrimp, and mushrooms thrown over noodles with a wine-butter sauce. Not fantastic for the waistline but indubitably so for the taste buds. 

the dayton days [67]

Ams & I gathered in Rob & Mandy's room

Monday. J.J. & I opened together, and I did tips during the shift meeting. Once the meeting concluded, Carly and I grabbed lunch from Gyro Palace and went to her place and watched the new "Sherlock Holmes" movie. She talked about drama with Devyn and told me she talked to Jess about me again, that Jess wouldn't confirm nor deny liking me. "I don't think she's being secretive, I think she's genuinely conflicted." Carly's fear is that if something DOES develop between me and Jess, I'll end up steamrolled by her cutting off the relationship if the stakes of investment get too high. "You're a good guy. A perfect guy? No. But a good guy, a cut above the rest. I know this. Jess knows this. And deep down, beneath all of the confliction, she WANTS a good guy, and I honestly think she likes the idea of being with you, even if she squashes down the idea so as not to have to deal with it. Tell or don't tell her how you feel, it's up to you. But, Anthony, I don't want you to be used, to be steamrolled. It happens to a lot of good guys, and I know you've dealt with it time and again, but I really don't want that to happen to you." And neither do I; but it's always a possibility, and there's always risk involved. Oh, some good news: Jessie & Tony are engaged!

Tuesday. Jessica came over after work, nearly in tears because of how difficult things went during her shift; and she's still tired from the move to Wilmington. She calmed down, and we smoked cigarettes, chilled in my room, played with Sky. I told her she was beautiful. She just laughed. She left around 5:00. I took a nap and went to DLM and ran into Carly and Alison. I got sushi and they got sandwiches and we split our dinners in the mezzanine.

Wednesday. I worked 7-3:30. Cars opened, and Jess took over around noon. Mom met Jess yesterday, told me, "She's such a nice girl." Ams called, asked me if I'd told her that I like her. "Not yet." I decided to tell her, and this is how it went down this afternoon: I met up with her at the 'Bux after her shift, and we picked up food at Gyro Palace and went to eat at the pavilion at North Park. As we were eating, I told Jess, "I like you." It came to her as no surprise. She'd suspected it, and Faith was confident of it. "She always makes all sorts of comments, even inappropriate ones," Jess said; "She really wants us to date." She said she's attracted to me. "We get along so well, we can be open and honest with one another, vulnerable with one another, and even our quiet moments aren't awkward. I'm comfortable with you, and I know I can trust you." She even said, "The way we connect... I haven't had this in a long time." At the same time, she's not 100% sure about her attraction to me. "My type has generally been tall, burly, jackass guys." I'm not tall, I'm skinny, and I'm certainly not a jackass or an asshole (though I do have my moments). The fact that I'm NOT her type, and that she's attracted to me, is causing her to question the attraction, hence the hesitancy. Nevertheless, she knows that there's something about me that stands out, even if she can't put a name to it. When she started at the 'Bux, she was drawn to me; when she was promoted, she forgot about it. And when she found out Leah and I were dating, it all came back. "I was jealous of Leah, and it surprised me!" The jealousy came from nowhere, and she started questioning things again. I told her that I like her more than I liked Leah. "That makes me happy," she beamed. She says her main concern about us dating is, obviously, work. She's a shift. I'm a barista. We're not allowed to date. She does know that we can date in secret, but is hesitant like Leah was. In the end, she's still trying to figure out EXACTLY how she feels about me. And so we suggested we go on a date. We finished our meals feeling pretty elated (or, at least, I did), and then her roommate Emily came by, and we climbed some trees and smoked some cigarettes and a storm rolled through and the tornado sirens went off. Once everyone parted ways I called Carly and told her how everything went. She screamed over the phone: "OMG, this makes me so happy!" I'm optimistic, I really am. Jess told me to call her tomorrow: that's a call I won't miss.

Cinco de Mayo. I worked a grueling 5:30-2:00. Cars was a wreck: her family cat had to be put down. I went by work to get some espresso after working out, and Cars was there and she said, "I had an hour-long conversation with Jess, and it was very good." She told me that Jessica is most definitely attracted to me, and that scares me. She's used to non-committal flings, casual dating, and "bad guys." She knows that I'm a good guy, we'd be good together, and that this wouldn't be a "casual" thing. And that scares her because she wants that, if that makes any sense; and all this has made her stop dead in her tracks and question where she's at in life, her relationship with God, her own selfishness, going from "me" to "we." On top of all this, Jess sees potential with me. Not just random, convenient dating, something to fill the gap between Now and Then. She's been forced to think about her future, even marriage, and that scares her on one hand and excites her on the other. Uncharted territories and unforeseen vistas are beginning to emerge as if out of the mist, and her attraction to me supersedes "he's cute and fun" in a way that goes beyond her attraction to other guys in the past. This is something new, unknown, and it's heavy. And thus the hesitancy. It isn't due to her not liking me or even knowing if she likes me; it's her liking me in a way that shows potential. "She's very optimistic," Carly said. "She likes you far more than she's letting on. She may seem to be flippant about you, but she was quite honest with me."

Friday. I dreamt that Jess turned me down for some athletic jock. I worked 6:30-12:30 and then Carly and I went to DLM for lunch. She told me that Jess admitted that "Anthony and I are perfect for one another." But she warned me, "Any road you guys walk will be a long one. She's terrified of commitment, of being serious and invested in someone. This will take a lot of patience on your part, and you have to be okay with that." Jess called me, said she's so used to being the one who sacrifices in a relationship. I told her sacrifice is a two-way street: "I won't try to talk you out of Grad School. I'll support you and encourage you, do what I can to help you." She's afraid of losing independence. I told her I want "us" being a collective, not her being absorbed into my life in such a way that hers is tossed aside. The date's cancelled: she got freaked out and bailed. She confessed, "Usually I date a guy, and when it gets serious, I jump ship. It's nothing because of you or what you said. It's just me being me, and I can't explain it." 

Saturday. I worked 6-2:30. Carly came over after church, and we played with Sky. Jess called her while we were there, so she went into my room to talk to her. Once she was done, we went to Penn Station. She ate and I just hung out, and she told me what went down: "Jess is really freaking out." I caught on: she cancelled the date, avoided me all day at work, is trying to isolate herself from us so she doesn't have to deal with all her weird and convoluted emotions. I hated hearing it, so much so that I gnawed my finger down till it bled down my hand. "She knows she's being stupid, and this won't last forever. She knows it's her issues. It's not you." 

Mother's Day. Dewenter and I met up for lunch at China Cottage around 11:00. I told him all about the drama with Jess. Tyler joined us, too, said, "So you dated one girl at Starbucks and may date another? Say what you want about your inability to get a girl, but you're starting to look like that place's Mac Daddy." We went back home, and Jess called me from work: Carly passed out at home, cars were wrapped around the DT, and she needed help. I went in plain-clothed for an hour, pretty much saved her life. She was super stressed out: "And I was THIS close to stepping down to a barista." She was glad to see me, by the time I left we were laughing and cracking jokes. Rob & Mandy were in town for Mother's Day, so they picked me up at my work and ferried me down to the Claypole House, and we spent the afternoon hanging out with Amos, Ams, and Blake. We had a delicious homemade dinner and spent the evening smoking cigarettes on the front porch. I passed out in Rob & Mandy's room, and Rob was going to carry me downstairs but I managed. I passed out in the spare bed in the walkthrough room. 

mother's day

I'm not an awful son: I got my mom a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a mother's day card. Of course, I gave her everything yesterday; 'cause the best bouquets go up in price on actual Mother's Day. We didn't really do much for Mother's Day; she slept through most of it, actually. I think we're celebrating tomorrow? Anyways, I went to work for some espresso, and then Carly couldn't show up, so I went and worked an hour amidst the craziness of Jess trying to get the store together. Right after my "pansy shift"--which really couldn't even be considered a shift, just me jumping on bar for a little while--I nabbed some China Cottage with Patrick and Tyler, followed by sitting on my front porch smoking cigarettes, then playing some Wii. Rob and Mandy were at Rob's mom's house, and they picked me up on their way back home and on the drive down to Cincinnati, Mandy took the fantastic picture seen in this post. I've spent the evening here at The Claypole House, hanging out with lots of people I haven't seen in a while. Blake, Mandy, Rob, Amos, Amanda, even Gambill came around. Someone made a delicious dinner (broiled chicken and an Italian mushroom/provolone pasta), and we sat out on the front porch smoking cigarettes and drinking beer and sharing much laughter. Definitely a good, relaxing day. And I got a lot of thinking and decision-making done. 

the tension & the terror

She (who shall remain nameless) didn't shut the door on "us"; she just said she needs time to get things in her life together, time to get things properly oriented so she can make any sort of decision regarding "us." She didn't tell me to wait, and I didn't tell her I would. But should I? As I told Carly, there are four possible scenarios:

1. I wait and, in time, we date.

2. I wait, and she decides, in time, "No" to us.

3. I don't wait, and then she wants to date, but then it's too late.

4. I don't wait, she decides "No," and this little drama is over before it begins.

It all, at least on my end, boils down to fight or flight. Will I fight for her (i.e. wait) or run from her (i.e. not wait)? I know that if the end result of waiting were guaranteed to work out in my (or our?) favor, then it'd be a simple decision. Right now the hopeful (albeit small) part of me is ready to take up arms and fight for her, for us, for what we can be. Yet at the same time, the cynical part of me (the bigger part, put in place by countless experiences of rejection, betrayal, and mind-numbing disappointment) wants to "run for the hills," so-to-speak. There's tension and there's terror: the tension between Hope & Cynicism, and the terror of knowing that down either road, great pain and loss and heartache may very well be experienced. 

Really, the waiting game doesn't bother me. I told Carly, "She was very honest about what would happen if we dated and she didn't yet bring things in her life together; it wouldn't turn out well." She cares enough about me to not put me through that, as she's put other guys. And I really appreciate that, I truly do. Waiting is the most wise and responsible thing to do (for either of us). The fright found in waiting isn't so much the waiting itself but what waiting can do to me. Again, hail experience: not too long ago I "waited" on someone, and this waiting exacted quite the toll on my heart. Waiting, you see, isn't a passive thing; it's very much active. It takes patience, endurance, determination. All of this is exhausting in and of itself; couple it with the reality that, amidst the process of waiting (and in a large part due to the process itself), the heart becomes more and more invested, more and more focused, more and more wrapped into the idea (the hope, the fantasy, the illusion, whatever you wish to call it) of what lies at the end of the road. The heart becomes so involved that it beats in rhythm with the desired result. This would make the realization of that goal all the more wonderful, to be sure. But what happens when the goal isn't realized? Or, worse yet, when your goal is realized but not by you? When all your patient waiting and striving and fighting and, sometimes, dying leads to nothing but someone else taking your spot, swooping in, and leaving you all alone in the dust like a beaten and bloodied animal to lick your wounds?

Let me tell you (in the off-chance that you're lucky enough not to have experienced this): it's akin to having your heart ventricles flooded with battery acid, or an open-heart surgery gone wrong without anesthesia to help numb the pain. The emotional torment--no, torture--of such an event is immense and indescribable, and I know this because I've gone the waiting route before and I nearly destroyed myself (quite literally) in the process. They'll tell you that in deciding whether or not to wait, the question to be answered is, "Is she worth it?" My response? Unanimously, YES! But that's not all there is to the equation; you must also ask, "Am I worth it?" Is setting off down a road that could very well lead to a less-than-satisfying destination--not to mention the possibility of near self-destruction--worth the chance (however meager) that things might turn out well?

Once upon a time I told a dear friend, "Risk is always a factor. With things like these, there's always the risk of getting hurt--but there's also, at the same time, the risk of missing out on something beautiful." I was much more hopeful and optimistic in those earlier days; now I'm a bitter, cold, and calloused creature (or a wizened one?), and I don't know which path to take. Behold: the tension, and the terror.

the saga continues...

Ok, so here it is: over the past few months I've come to be quite attracted to, in more ways than one, a good friend of mine. When the feelings started developing, I sifted through them and tried to make sense of what was happening. I didn't want to be attracted to her, and I certainly didn't expect it to happen. But sometimes when you get to know someone--and I mean really know them, being open and honest and vulnerable--sometimes you'll end up finding yourself romantically attracted to them. It happens. Sometimes (if not most of the time) this happens with the worst timing and in the most unfortunate circumstances. Indeed, the timing and situation of all this is certainly the opposite of optimal. Because I knew she was suspicious, and because I value honesty in our friendship, I told her that I like her. This happened on Wednesday, I think. We talked about it, and she's kind of attracted to me, not turned off to the idea of being with me, and is actually pretty optimistic about it; but at the same time, we're in different spheres of life and she's not at the point to invest in a committed relationship. She didn't ask me to wait for her, and I didn't tell her I would, but ultimately the question is raised: to wait or not to wait? There are pros and cons to both, especially when the future is so damned unclear. Nevertheless, I take my good friend Carly's advice to heart: "Don't do anything." Just continue engaging the friendship; don't crucify nor feed my feelings. Let things flesh out however they'll flesh out. Easier said than done, of course. In the end, though, no matter how this turns out, I'm so thankful that the friendship remains, for the most part, unaffected. We're still great friends through all of this, and in our conversations about this--which have involved brutal honesty from both members of the party--there has been much laughter and openness and vulnerability, all without judgment. That's very refreshing.

I told Mom about all this, and she said, "This happens to you a lot, doesn't it?" It seems for some people, you like someone and they like you and then you have a great and enjoyable relationship. For me, however, the timing's always off, or the circumstances aren't exactly prime, or we're at different phases in life, etc. "The saga of Anthony Barnhart continues," my mom told me. Amidst all this, I'm fluctuating between all sorts of emotions--peace and contentment about it, overwhelming anxiety, bouts of depression and anger (directed towards either myself or life in general), and then back to peace and contentment. It's really very strange. I really don't know what's going to happen, and part of me is hopeful while another part (the cynical part, which seems to ebb and flow with increasing speed and depth) isn't holding out any hope whatsoever. I guess we'll just have to see what happens; life has certainly taught me this to be true. 

always good to hear

It's always good to receive feedback on my earlier self-published works. In 2004 I wrote a shit-awful zombie novel entitled "36 Hours." It did surprisingly well (being mentioned in at least two magazines as an example of how self-publishing is no longer the "commercial publishing stepchild" but a decent competitor in quality books and book sales). I hated the book, nonetheless, and tried to make it unavailable; but the self-publishing company was making too much money, and partnered with Amazon to have it featured there as well. This enraged me (because despite its popularity, it was poorly written, in an awful format, and just downright wretched), so I decided to rewrite the book. I rewrote every single scene, included a few extra chapters, basically added an extra 200 pages to the 340-page novel. The end result was a 600-page zombie novel which has become very popular (according to ratings; I get few actual reviews). Although it's selling well (despite it not yet being available in the major marketing channels), like I said, I get few criticisms and reviews. I appreciate critical feedback and really chew through it to hone my talent. And reviews encourage me amidst the silence of my readers. So when I got this email today, from some fellow named Peter, it really made my day:


"I loved this book!!!!! You fucking rock! You took a typical zombie thriller and brought it to a whole new level. What happened at the end? I've always wanted to read a book like that. I hope you write others like this; I LOVED it!!!"

Be a pal. Buy a copy. :)

of watson & holmes

Yesterday evening I went out to Dorothy Lane Market to pick up some dinner. The Market always has fresh pickings and made-to-order sandwiches (and, as a plus, decent sushi). I walked straight to the sushi and who did I run into? None other than Doctor Watson. It was quite a surprise to see her there, and then Holmes showed up a few minutes later, carrying a bushel of apples she's setting aside. "I'm going to try all the different varieties!" she exclaimed. I planned on having dinner alone, but I was quite happy to enjoy dinner with these two blokes. We ate on the mezzanine and Holmes split half her sandwich with me, and I gave her half her sushi. And, luckily, I didn't run into my stalker. Oh, this is a fun story, let me begin...

About a year ago, this girl started come through Starbucks. She would chat me up, and she was cute, so I talked to her, too. Because I frequent the Market, I would run into her quite often. Something seemed a bit "off" about her, and Carly clued me into some things I didn't know. Anyways, she calls me "Starbucks Guy" and has asked for my name, but I've never given it to her. When she's working, sometimes I'll try to avoid her, going through the farthest cash-out lane. If she spies me, she'll shout my name and wave. Very good-natured, I'll give her that. Things got a little weird, however, when she started telling her co-workers about me. This came to my attention when Carly went through her line the other day, and she struck up conversation.


"I know you from somewhere," the girl said.
"Probably from Starbucks or Southbrook," Carly said.
"Yes! You work at the Starbucks down the road!"
The bagger said, "Oh, is this your Starbucks girl?"
"No," she said. "I have a Starbucks guy."
Carly said, "Oh, who is it? Maybe I know him?"
"He's the cute guy with blond hair."
"Anthony? Yeah, he's one of my best friends!"


Carly told me, "She seemed pretty put off by me saying that. I almost told her to stop creeping on my koala!" Thankfully, back to last night's incident, I didn't run into her. She was, however, working, at least when Carly went through the line. "She always eyes me weird now that she knows I know you. It's kind of freaking me out a bit." Well. At least now her attentions are turned upon Carly and not on me! Haha. Seriously, though, it's really no big deal. She's a nice girl, just a little weird, and she's in high school, too, so, yeah. Most of us baristas have our stalkers; indeed, Jessica ran into one of hers just yesterday, an old "friend" who constantly tried to convert her to Mormonism. 


"Your stalker is Mormon, and mine is a Jehovah's Witness," I told her. "We've nearly got all the cults covered. Now Carly needs a stalker with an agenda."

boys will be girls

In the last two weeks, we've had one day of sunshine. The rain continues unabated, and the weather station informs us that it will continue for at least another week. I hate it (and this makes me wonder, again, why I want to move to Alaska?). Being cooped up inside isn't fun at all; it's spring, for God's sake! I want to go to the park and walk around outside and explore the woods. The animal inside me is yearning to be unleashed! Yet despite the rain, I'm glad to be able to be cooped up inside with friends. This week already I've spent time with Dylan, had lunch and an afternoon movie with Carly, and even got to hang out with Jessica for a bit amidst her moving mayhem. I can't wait to drive to Wilmington and see her new place. It's a farm, lots of acres, in the middle of nowhere. "You can bring Sky and she can play with Duke!" she said. I bet Sky would like that. Here's a video my little sister showed me. It's absolutely hilarious; being friends with (for the most part) girls, this is stuff I've seen countless times in my friendships, and I've had to grit my teeth throughout it all. This video is amazing.

the dayton days [66]

Her nickname is now Mochahontas!

Monday. Carly and I car-pooled to a store meeting in Oakwood at noon. We stopped at the DLM like we did last time, picked up some creme sodas. Faith brought pizza. The new and cute and pregnant hire Kendra rode back with us. We arrived at the store and I was about to leave when Jessica called, asked me to wait around for her. We smoked on the patio before the rains came. Jessica invited me over to help her pack for the move to Wilmington. I headed to her apartment, but we didn't do much packing, just hanging out. We made a beer run, lounged around on the sofa, and Faith and her husband came by and we loaded up some furniture for them (well, he and I did). I played with her little boy Parker for a bit. He loves his stuffed duck. Faith made some comment about Jess and me. Jess just laughed. Faith's been subtly encouraging Jess to date me. They left, and Jess & I smoked some cigarettes and then I headed home. When I got into bed, Jess called me panicking: some guy followed her around in his car after I left. I calmed her down, helped her to think rationally, convinced her to go to her brother's (for her own sanity), and stayed on the phone with her till she was safe.

Tuesday. I worked 5:30-1:30. After work Carly, Jessica and I grabbed China Cottage for lunch. Carly went into work at 3:00. Jess and I went by the 'Bux for coffee and a cigarette, and as we went our separate ways, Faith kiddingly jested, "Have fun, you two!" But we didn't hang out: she had to actually start packing. When I arrived home, I found Grandpa M. there. It was quite the surprise, since he told no one he was coming. He joined Mom, Dad, Grandma and I for lunch at Marion's Pizza. 

Wednesday. I worked 6:30-3:00. Remember Claire from high school, an old crush of mine? She's married now, has a kid, and I see her nearly every day when she comes through the DT for her drink. It's kind of weird. we were shiftless for an hour, and during that hour Asenath gossiped about what happened with Betsy walking out last night: she got pissed at Faith for some reason and up and quit. It pissed me off, so I called Jess and told her about it. She said, "Asenath's this close to being fired, she knows better than to be like that on the floor." I ran to Tri-County to pick up a Sureshot from the store there, and I went and visited Ams since she was working in the food court. I made a fruitless visit to 1/2 Price and headed home amidst hammering rain. Dorothy Lane Market flooded, there were tornadoes in New York City, and another one in Covington. Jess called me on my drive and we talked for a little bit.

Thursday. I worked 6-2:00 with Jess and Carly. Jess left at 1:00, and when I got off work, Carly and I sat on the patio for a bit. I called Faith and told her what went down on the floor, Asenath running her mouth. I kinda felt like a tattletale, but both Jess and Cars wanted me to do it, since I was the only one who was there, and if they spoke up it'd be hearsay. I spent the afternoon writing, and then Carly and I met up at Gyro Palace. She told me, "Devyn and I went to Dorothy Lane and your girl was there, and we had an interesting talk." She relayed it to me:

The Girl: "I know you from somewhere."

Carly: "Probably from Starbucks or Southbrook Church."

Her: "Starbucks!"

The Bagger: "Is this the Starbucks girl you always talk about?"

Her: "No, I have a Starbucks guy."

Cars: "Oh, who is it? Maybe I know him?"

Her: "He's the cute blonde guy."

Cars: "Anthony? Yeah, he's one of my best friends!"

Carly told me, "She seemed pretty put off by me saying that. She's a weirdo, and she needs to stop creeping on my koala!" I tend to attract the weirdos, the creepers, the psychos & the desperate. "Maybe they sense some sort of connection with me?" I quipped. But Carly said, "You may be awkward, but not in a creepy, off-putting way." I told her I'm just a rehabilitated creepo. We spent the evening at her place, made a trip to The K, and watched a movie: "The Prestige." Devyn came by before we left, and we smoked cigarettes out in front of the apartment. Jessica called me on my way home, said she went to a Pure Romance party in Wilmington. I do like Jessica, but I've decided (for the time being) to let the cards fall where they will. Maybe one day we'll be together, and be happy, maybe even in love, and that'd be nice. But if not, no worries.

Friday. I dreamt Jessica and I were dating, and I woke up to Grandma watching The Royal Wedding. I ran some errands at the Mall and had sushi for lunch before working 3-10:15 with Carly, Leah, and Kendra. "Your name reminds me of an eight-headed Greek monster. Or... a sea polyp." Leah and I were cool, but I'm pretty sure she's not over me: she practically dry humped me behind the bar at one point. She commented on how my boxers were cute, and Cars exclaimed, "WTF, Leah?!" The night was pretty crazy with lots of rushes, so Carly got us all Indian food. It was my first taste, I liked it. 

Saturday. I worked a long and tiring 9-5:30. People kept commenting on how thin I look: Leah, Devyn, Carly. Back home Dylan came over and we shared some beers and climbed trees and smoked cigarettes on the porch. A chill night. I'll miss these days when he jets off to Africa, I really will. 

Sunday. Finally, a day off! I slept in till about 9:00, made a French-pressed coffee, spent the morning writing at the Route 48 Starbucks and working out. I went by work and hung out with Jess during her 10. Gene, one of the regulars, is really getting on her nerves. "We're about to throw down," she hissed. I ran by the bank and then to 1/2 Price. I helped Dad do some lawn work before the rains returned.