The Day I Mused On The Unknowns Of The Future And Tried To Figure Out How I Got Here

I don't know what the hell is going on. 

My room is a mess. Clothes everywhere. Kirsten's open Apple laptop. Holmes, always reliable, heating the room with silent confidence. My headphones--the formidable cord tangled in loops like spilled intestines. I see an ethernet cable next to the empty speaker box. A half-empty can of pineapple juice and an open bottle of flat brut champagne. More clothes. Scraps of paper. A camera. An empty jar. A bicycle flashlight.

I'm listening to "Home" by Edward Sharpe and Magnetic Zeros.

Everyone is addicted to Minecraft.

I've listened to "Pursuit of Happiness" by Lissie Maurus 46 times in the last 12 days.

Kirsten stayed last night, and the night before, and will be here tonight when I get off work. We often get dinner together--either at Spin Burger, deVere's, or Hot Italian--and then come back to my room for a movie and non-commitment intercourse. It's becoming a pattern. We're aware of how strange our "arrangement" is because now we're scheming to get her hooked up with Dapper Dan, a customer from Old Soul. All she wants is a baby daddy. Until then, we battle daily trying to keep the trumors away--true rumors--and it's becoming difficult to explain why Kirsten and I are spending so much time together.

What's craziest of all, I guess, is those moments when it feels like we're each other's flotation device amidst the wreckage of a mid-ocean airplane crash. Whatever that means.

I've indirectly asked Tim for a recommendation for my Peace Corps application (not exactly a two-weeks notice, but it still felt weird). I've also asked Sean and Colleen--who apparently already finished hers--and then my application will be complete. I've decided to just go ahead and try. If they want me, great. If they don't, no worries. 

Like I was saying to Kirsten: if going to college and getting a useless degree is what it takes to get into the Peace Corps, then at least I'll feel like going to college was worth it.

Alternatively, I'm sort of looking into becoming a Montessori teacher through some organization in San Diego. 

I honestly have no idea what I'm doing.

I'm looking forward to the Old Soul Christmas Party tomorrow night. It reminds me of the good-old-days of A'romas and being a part of a big family during the holiday season. Sean's coming up to be my guest and afterward we're walking over to Crystal's Going-Away Party. 

I've got to get to the DMV sometime this week.

The first word of anyone who wakes up late is probably always, "FUCK!" 

Yesterday's paycheck was $550.19 (rent, plus nineteen cents).

Had a dollar in my tip jar with 361-1857 written on the end, but no note or explanation, and so I can't just assume it's some girl leaving me her number, although I'm still very tempted to call. 

Even if my life doesn't make a whole lot of sense, at least my finances are in order. Bills are getting paid, rent is affordable, and I can still cover a forty-dollar outing to Spin Burger. I'm excited about the chance of deferring my $15,900 student loans for another 27 months, thanks to the Peace Corps. 

To be honest with myself, writing the previous sentence was way too exciting. I think I really do want to follow this Peace Corps path. Why not? It's the perfect time of my life for something crazy. It's the best thing I could do with an English degree. My graduating class went to college thinking it was some magical party land that gave you all the greatest experiences of your life, then shat you out with a high-paying career where money rained from the sky and nuclear families grew on trees. 

Not true.

Now I'm listening to a band called Frightened Rabbit.

Here's a photo that Lisa, an older woman with boundless energy and fiery red hair (and possible Sugar Momma candidate), decided to take of me at Old Soul with her camera phone while I was pouring honey:

My beard almost qualifies for a real beard. I don't think I've shaved since before Thanksgiving. Meredith keeps saying that I look older, and not just because of the beard. She thinks Kirsten made a man out of me.

New faces: Michael, the author. Ryan, the fisherman (who leaves on the 26th for Alaska). Kaitlin, Ryan's cute friend (who hopefully won't be going with him). DJ Eddie Z, the weekend entertainment at Spin Burger.

It's always good to know a DJ. 

"Swim until you can't see land," says Frightened Rabbit. 

I hate the holiday season. It's impossible to make plans with anyone. 

It's already Christmas. What the fuck? I'll be heading up to Auburn after a morning shift on Christmas Eve, then heading home again Christmas night to open the next day. Then it's Pinback @ Harlow's on the 30th and maybe a trip to see my old college gang for New Years. I haven't figured out the details. Favors will be playing (@ Luigi's?) on New Years Eve, too... I can hardly see past Tuesday, so I don't know what I'll be doing. Like I've said, I have no idea what the hell is happening.

Also decided that I'm Irish. 

- Left to Fry