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Sunday, January 08, 2006 


Not in the good Patsy Cline way, either.

I can't sleep. Every once in a while I'm struck with anxiety based insomnia.

Tonight's ruminations revolve around the infection I'm sure has developed around the site of wisdom tooth extraction. Never mind that I took the prophylactic antibiotics and the oral surgeon said everything looked good at my follow up appointment. I have, for some reason, convinced myself that the infection has found its way into my blood stream putting me at risk for septicemia. I'll write about it here if I find out I'm right about this. 'Cause I just love being right.

Also on the agenda for keeping me awake is the new job. I made it through the first week, but now that I'm there, and have a clearer picture of the job, I'm not sure I'm up for it. It's more responsibility that I want, the program I'm in charge of is in a horrible state, and they are looking at me to whip it into shape by the end of the fiscal year, June 30. I don't know. The money is good, and god knows I need it. Maybe I'm just rusty. I haven't worked (besides temping) since April. Fuck. I can't afford not to stay. But I'm not happy.

Got an email from Brian on Monday. When I was in college I worked for Boeing during the summer breaks. Yes, the airplane company. They had this program - for all I know they still do - where they would hire college kids to work doing maintenance during the summer to earn money for school. It paid a lot, especially for college students (it was a who you know kind of thing to get hired - my brother, sister, and sister-in-law all worked for Boeing at the time.) Two summers I was a roofer. Two other summers I was a maintenace electrician. There were only two of us college girls (hi Heather!), the rest of the crews being guys, and we were both pretty cute back then, which means we didn't do a ton of actual "work." Anyway, Brian was my supervisor for two summers. God, what a crush I had on him. The first summer we worked together, I was 19 and he was 25. I was fairly aggressive back then, and did not keep my feelings a secret. He tried to be professional. He really did. I ignored that. He told me he had a girlfriend. I didn't care. I went back to school after the summer, and we called and wrote to each other - platonically - to keep in touch. The following summer, it was game on. We never did "it," but there was some serious flirting going on back and forth, enough so that his supervisor called us in and told us to cool it.

At the end of that summer, Brian and I decided to have dinner together to send me back to LA. We met in West Seattle. He parked in some convenience store lot, and I drove to dinner. He talked a lot about how he cared about his girlfriend, how with my living in LA and him living in Seattle, it would never work out, anyway, and how much fun we have together and what great friends we'd always be. I was so disappointed, but I knew he was right. After dinner, I drove him back to his car - which was hoisted up by a tow truck. No parking on private property! After paying the driver and getting his car, he told me what an "expensive date" I was. It was time to say goodnight. There was a weird "should we or shouldn't we kiss?" moment. He had to go meet his girlfriend, and my mom wanted her car back in Tacoma. I decided to go for it. I leaned through his car window and planted one on him. He opened his car door and pulled me onto his lap. We made out for a good half hour and said goodbye. We cried, because we both knew I wouldn't be moving back after graduation. But we'd keep in touch.

Of course we lost touch after a few years. Several years later, when I was still in LA, my sister called me. She was the only person in Tacoma with our last name listed in the phone book. She had gotten a call from a guy named Brian who was trying to get in touch with me. She had offered to take his number and pass it on to me. I called him. It was great, we caught up, and then he dropped the bomb: he was getting married. I was confused. I wanted to know why the fuck he was trying so hard to find me to tell me. After what, five years? Did he want to invite me? He had thought about me often. That "what if?," shit. Well, it was too late. He was engaged, for fuck's sake - and I wasn't moving back to Washington, and he wasn't moving to California. It was moot.

So, Brian is married. He's had two kids and a vasectomy, and moved to the country where he's building a house for his family from the ground up.

And he emails me every once in a while. I haven't written back to him yet. It's so random. I told him on the phone a few years ago that I couldn't believe that he really married someone else. I think I still feel that way.

I think it is a fact that if we had ever actually had sex with each other, we'd be totally incommunicado these days. I think our relationship is held afloat partly on the (nonexistent) chance that maybe, one day...

You should do the Music Meme!

It's only hard if you want it to be: One of my friends did his to Britney Spears Songs.

Looking for information and found it at this great site...
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