Here we are! It feels like summer finally since work’s slowed down. I’m only on the schedule three days this week. This sucks because I Need Money So I’m Not in Debt Until I’m Ninety-Seven, but I’m not complaining because the heat and the sun and the gorgeousness that is my house make me so happy I could scream.

Downside: I think about work all the time. Not in a pleasant way; it’s in a manner that drops the stomach and puts pressure right up against my ribs. When do I have to do in? What can I improve on? How can I count money/pour coffee/accomplish my secondaries/talk to people/talk to co-workers faster, better, more efficiently?

This is just another example of me being a semi-paranoid, neurotic, analytic overaware overthinker whose main goal in life is to better herself and her surroundings. I don’t want to say I’m pathetic, because despite the self-conscious overtones I can be quite confident (or at least pretend, and project it) when I want to. But I’m very focused on not sucking at work. They are paying me, after all, and to be honest with my (probably) nonexistent readers I am quietly aiming for a raise by working my ass off before summer ends. And I would work it off more if I had some more hours.

That leads us back full circle to summertime, and how I’m enjoying the time away from work, when I’m not thinking about work. My mother just finished up her mandatory two week vacation, so today’s the first day we’ve really had where she’s not around. Dad’s home, though, “sick,” and Michelle and I are pretty much just exchanging skeptical looks when we pass each other in the house.

I actually just came in from using the wood-splitter. It’s time consuming, I’m being productive, and I’m outside. There’s a huge pile of wood, now, all nicely chopped up, thanks to me and this machine attached to the tractor. So I’ve had some fun today.

I’m restless, though. I went to a grad party Saturday where Brendan’s mom and sister talked to me for quite awhile. About college, about Brendan and his college plans and scholarships. I hadn’t even thought about Brendan for a few weeks. I’d had other things to think over and do. But since the name Brendan illicits thoughts of God, almost always, I started thinking again.

Brendan’s got this deeply seated connection with his God. He works at it; he tries. I know it’s not the easiest thing ever to maintain a relationship with an omniscient, seemingly far-away diety and his once-human Son. I mean, I’ve tried, I get it.

But Brendan’s entire life from now on will revolve around Him. He has it set up that way. From the education he’s going to get to the job he will take to the woman he will marry and so on and so on.

Me? I’m going to music school to learn how to sing and teach and speak foreign languages. Then I don’t know what the hell I’ll do. I realize my potential and my success thus far should be attributed to my God, but… well, and it is, I don’t mean it’s not. But I’m losing whatever connection I may have possessed. I don’t want to become some religion fanatic that everyone hates because they’re obsessed. Not that Brendan is! Holy crap, no. He displays his faith so everyone who knows him and knows of it respects both, whether they believe it or think it’s stupid.

I just don’t know if I’ll be able to use the immense and blind trusting faith I’ve felt since I was a small child in the real world. It’s the happy, warm centered feeling of all-encompassing love, true and pure. The feeling that God loves everyone no matter what they do. That he’ll accept them.

The sad and pathetic part is, I want to keep it all to myself. I don’t want anyone to hate or judge me for it because I love peace too much. I’m selfish about it. Selfishly protecting my reputation and my future success because a public relationship with God might hurt it. It’s the same thing I do with boys: don’t publicly acknowledge any connection to them for fear that others will use the connection to harm me. 

And another trouble of mine has been boys lately. It’s calmed down since July’s progressed, but still. Seriously, when have I ever given the impression that I’d be willing to participate in a one night stand? Or a long term, long distance relationship through college? Or having a freaking stalker?

Yeah, it’s gone the whole spectrum since graduation. And I’m not exaggerating. Naturally, each boy has been a weird ass. I’m not nitpicking; it’s ranged from a kid who legitimately thought I had a fetish with “boys like him” to one who displayed serious possession issues and shoved me around. Used the F word and tried to forbid me to hang out with other people.

Whatever. Boys suck. Why can’t there just be a nice, normal guy, who…

Who am I kidding. I don’t want nice and normal. But I do want someone who’ll have a mutual respect for me and actually value what I do and who I am. And vice versa. 

Okay, now I’m done ranting. Time to go swimming. At least I’ve spewed some of the bile that’s been in my mind here, and it won’t linger with me much longer. I’m sick of fretting. I’m sick of being that girl who thinks and considers: the one who’s so focused on improving everything else. Evasive and untouchable, that’s me.


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