Lara I.

1. Just kidding, I really have no idea.

2. It's just that sometimes it feels so stupid not to want people to look at me.

3. After all, I look at everyone else - I am a people watcher.

4. I notice when people's socks match their outfits and stuff like that, but I also notice people's moods, when someone is nervous or distracted or irritated or amused or relaxed or focused or anything else.

5. Sometimes I feel like self-consciousness is related to self-obsession - after all, no matter what it feels like, it's NOT all about me, is it?

6. All these little things that concern me likely concern only me, so, logically, shouldn't I just chill out?

7. If emotions could be ruled by logic, though, an entire profession would be out of business.

8. Yeah, that.

9. I do get it, though, that my lack of trust in other people's good opinions can get annoying, irritating even, and definitely pushes people away.

10. Being reassured ten bazillion times is awfully nice, but it feels overly indulgent and I'm pretty sure eventually he's going to get sick of it. I don't thing this was such a big issue in any previous relationship I've been in, but, I don't know. Maybe I'm a different person now.

I dunno why I have to be the kind of person who is just pulled every which way - some people know what they want in life and go for it, and some people kind of go where life takes them, and CERTAIN OTHER PEOPLE (like me) always feel like they should be doing something else.

You know, people identify what they're good at and what they have a passion for, and focus their lives on that... even if their passion is snowboarding, like my cousin Ryan - no one would say he's particularly successful, I mean, he didn't do well in school, never went to college, never had a "real" job (but did plenty of odd jobs all over the place) but still, he knows what he wants from life and goes for it. He's got something driving him, he's got his big plans, he's got it all worked out.

I don't know what I'm good at or what I have a passion for except for what's become a very vague and unreliable notion that I'm very intelligent. I mean, I am very intelligent, and half the time, I feel like keeping this fact a secret. Truth is, when I was a kid, I was tested and found to be completely off the charts. When I was in elementary school I didn't have to sit through class with the other kids, I got to go to a special program with only five of us and we got to study whatever we wanted, as long as someone was supervising us and making sure, you know, that we were actually working on stuff and not screwing around or something. By the time I was in third grade I could read anything and did, including Crime and Punishment and yes, I understood it. I took my SATs when I was in seventh grade and scored a 1570, so, yes, I really truly am that intelligent. I say this is vague and unreliable because, come on, where has all this intelligence gotten me besides utterly dissatisfied with everything I encounter?

I dropped out of high school, which I think was a good choice and I'd do it again. But I also dropped out of college, which... I mean, I know why I did it at the time. I just wish I hadn't. I wish things had been different, way different and I could have finished. Cause I feel like my poor brain is just rotting away here. I don't want to sound stuck up, but, not only am I smarter than pretty much every one I encounter, where I am now and working where I do I feel like I'm on some other planet. So no, I don't want anyone to know that I ever even went to college, and no, I don't want anyone to know how smart I really am, because that gets me the immediate response of "WELL THEN WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE, GO DO SOMETHING WORTHWHILE WITH YOUR LIFE!"

What's worthwhile, anyway? I'd do it if I could figure out what it was, I swear.

I think this has a lot to do with why I wanted to be a teacher, I think I figured, well, if I don't know what I want to do for me, then, instead of being a useless lump, I'll do what I can for someone else.

And here I am a useless lump.

What brought this on? Oh well, ever since I read that massive Harry Potter fanfic by Cassandra Claire, I've been wanting to write my own - I can write my own Draco fanfic and plagiarize none of it and it'll prolly be just as good as hers... right? (I dunno about that, I hardly ever write anymore, but I think I'd enjoy trying) So I've decided to do a HP re-read and take copious notes along the way for my big massive fic project - oh, if only I could have harnessed this ambition, you know, in school because as much as I love fanfic, as much as I think the community element is amazing and without compare... really, who reads fanfic? It's not something you can really tell anyone and expect any kind of credibility. What do you do? Oh well right now I'm writing a Harry Potter fanfiction... yeah, no, not really. Might as well say, "oh, I'm writing a novel," as so many wannabe-authors do, only, yeah, when you meet that one person who says "oh I'd love to read it!" um, what are you going to show them? Your HP fic?

Yeah.

I worked all weekend. Got stuck very late at work friday night - I didn't get home until almost three, and we close at one, and I wasn't even supposed to be there until close in the first place. I've been trying pretty hard to make work as least awkward as possible - Saturday night I always do take-out, which means I'm at the bar, and Saturday night is B's bar shift, and last week I bailed and got someone to cover me so I wouldn't have to work so close with him. This week he switched with another bartender and waited tables I guess so he wouldn't have to work so close with me. Yeah... we were talking to each other, I mean, we had to, we had to talk to each other because we're working together. It's a restaurant - teamwork, and all.

But Sunday - I mean, one of us had to say something at some point, I guess. When lunch was ending and the dinner shift was coming in I was kind of hanging around by the bar - I had asked, at the beginning of the shift, if B could drive me home, and he said okay, so I was just waiting for the other bartender to come in. And we have been talking - about nothing. About the Phillies - incessantly - oh, did you know, the Phillies are in the world series? I am starting to fall for the team, really, I am. They're hardcore. I'm in love with all of them. I can't believe I saw them play that first time over the summer and could barely pay attention to them. Not now, my friends! Now I am glued to the screen!

So yeah, we've mostly been talking either about working or the Phillies. Safe topics, or whatever. But Sunday afternoon B kind of leaned on the bar and looked at me and was like, "will it do me any good to apologize to you?"

( And when did I ever say I wanted an apology, anyway? )

But the whole time I had this weird feeling that this is the last time we'll ever do anything like that. Like it's already too late. Like we've both already said too much and we can never go back to the easy way things were. Now it's either going to be complicated, or it's going to be over.

And that's what I was trying to avoid all along. I'd say he was doing the same thing, but really I have no idea.

It makes me kind of sad.