: Post-Dated-Post
I wrote this during my trip down south this weekend:
Bastard Blurty Entry
It’s 7:44 PM on Sunday, August 31, 2003. This entry will be placed post-dated to this day because I have no Internet access. Simple as that, I suppose.
I feel . . .
I don’t know how I feel.
This weekend, I came down to see Tricia. I drove eight and half hours in Gwen. I was pulled over for speeding. How stupid could I have been? Pulled over for going 78 in 65 mph. I barely made it three counties! I’m so embarrassed! You have no idea! I could cry because of this incident; because I’m so humiliated.
As the journey went on, I was so paranoid, I let drivers just come right around me. I took it very slow, kept my eyes on the speedometer the entire time. Of course, I was still going fast enough to get an air flow through my window, allowing for that annoying squeal the entire trip down there.
When I did get down here, I embraced and kissed Tricia. We attempted to fool around . . . but had some complications (I’d rather not say here) and we immediately took off for the beach house. I was so tired and so paranoid, plus a little uneasy due to the fact that I left Gwen in the garage alone.
Sigh.
So, we got down here and the whole time, I’ve been paranoid and like I’m being monitored as if I’ve done some great crime. Whenever - WHENEVER - Tricia and I are alone, I feel like we’re automatically being labeled “having sex. Bad kids.”
I’ve been such a pain in the ass this trip, it feels like. Yesterday, I had some O.J. . . . that was two months old. Needless to say, I had an upset stomach later and was unable to eat the $17.00 meal last night. It’s almost as if the relationship I had with Mr. Clem and Tina has devolved somewhat. Like I’m sort of parasite, spoiling their trips down here.
Ugh.
I’m alone for the first time, and I have to say it’s quite nice. Peaceful.
I’ll be honest, this weekend has been no picnic, but at least I get to be with Tricia. That’s what matters, I suppose. Although I’ve felt this sort of pressure to act a certain way. I’m not sure if she understands that or not. Maybe she does and maybe she doesn’t. Maybe I'm just crazy.
I’m struggling a lot with the bigger problems in my life. School. Work. Home. This weekend has been somewhat refreshing, but more stressful than I would like it to be. I know, I know. I’m making it stressful, but that’s just the way I feel.
That’s how I feel . . . stressful.
I dunno.
We’re heading back up to Davidson tomorrow, so maybe that’ll relax me up some. In the meantime, I think I’m going to just recollect myself and hope that this lackluster weekend will end up being a good one.
~W~
I wrote this during my trip down south this weekend:
Bastard Blurty Entry
It’s 7:44 PM on Sunday, August 31, 2003. This entry will be placed post-dated to this day because I have no Internet access. Simple as that, I suppose.
I feel . . .
I don’t know how I feel.
This weekend, I came down to see Tricia. I drove eight and half hours in Gwen. I was pulled over for speeding. How stupid could I have been? Pulled over for going 78 in 65 mph. I barely made it three counties! I’m so embarrassed! You have no idea! I could cry because of this incident; because I’m so humiliated.
As the journey went on, I was so paranoid, I let drivers just come right around me. I took it very slow, kept my eyes on the speedometer the entire time. Of course, I was still going fast enough to get an air flow through my window, allowing for that annoying squeal the entire trip down there.
When I did get down here, I embraced and kissed Tricia. We attempted to fool around . . . but had some complications (I’d rather not say here) and we immediately took off for the beach house. I was so tired and so paranoid, plus a little uneasy due to the fact that I left Gwen in the garage alone.
Sigh.
So, we got down here and the whole time, I’ve been paranoid and like I’m being monitored as if I’ve done some great crime. Whenever - WHENEVER - Tricia and I are alone, I feel like we’re automatically being labeled “having sex. Bad kids.”
I’ve been such a pain in the ass this trip, it feels like. Yesterday, I had some O.J. . . . that was two months old. Needless to say, I had an upset stomach later and was unable to eat the $17.00 meal last night. It’s almost as if the relationship I had with Mr. Clem and Tina has devolved somewhat. Like I’m sort of parasite, spoiling their trips down here.
Ugh.
I’m alone for the first time, and I have to say it’s quite nice. Peaceful.
I’ll be honest, this weekend has been no picnic, but at least I get to be with Tricia. That’s what matters, I suppose. Although I’ve felt this sort of pressure to act a certain way. I’m not sure if she understands that or not. Maybe she does and maybe she doesn’t. Maybe I'm just crazy.
I’m struggling a lot with the bigger problems in my life. School. Work. Home. This weekend has been somewhat refreshing, but more stressful than I would like it to be. I know, I know. I’m making it stressful, but that’s just the way I feel.
That’s how I feel . . . stressful.
I dunno.
We’re heading back up to Davidson tomorrow, so maybe that’ll relax me up some. In the meantime, I think I’m going to just recollect myself and hope that this lackluster weekend will end up being a good one.
~W~
confused