My Mumbling Thoughts

I'm driving back home after a long day at work. It's raining and I listen to the annoying sound of the rubber from my crap wipers skip across my windshield. I knew I should have shelled out that extra twenty bucks for those other wipers. Bastard.

It's nice though, and I quickly sink into my blank mind zone where nothing exists.

Absolutely nothing.

No thoughts. I'm just there, in my car, driving and nothing else matters.

It's a pleasant place to escape to when the past couple of weeks have been infused with drama, money worries, lots of stress and poorly timed situations.

The Summer of Shit. That's what I like to call it.

I guess I should just spit it out then. It's hard for me to do that though, because even the mere thought alone causes my throat to tighten and make me feel so nauseous I'm quickly scanning the room for the nearest trash can for me to be ill in.

Well, here goes...

Momma decided that she didn't want to co-sign for me this year, leaving me without a loan, meaning that I may not go back to London for my second year of uni.

*pukes*

Just when I thought life couldn't get any worse, it does. Jon and Helen are arriving this coming Monday (which isn't the bad news, by the way), but since I'm poor, I have to work for part of the time they're visiting so I can try and save up a couple extra pennies for myself. Which means, I had to cut the New York trip for myself. Yeah, I'm not going.

Mel, Helen and Jon will still be going though, which is good. I didn't want them to not go because I have to be a poor lame-o and backed out. We're currently in the process of trying to find someone to take my place on the trip so it's not a complete and total loss, so if you know of anyone who's free from the 30th of August until the 4th of September and they want to go to New York for a bit, let me know. I can hook them up.

It's almost as if I've been put on pause though. I'm stuck and I just can't get past the fact that I may not go to London on September 12th.

What? Not go? No!

I haven't accepted that fact yet. And I know I won't until September 12th passes. I'll either be on the plane, or I won't. And if I'm not, then I suppose it really will be fact for me.

Until then, I've been busting my ass trying to come up with new, not-so-inventive ways to get money out of loan companies. They really don't like young folks like myself who have absolutely no credit. They do, however, like turning us young folks with no credit down. I've been denied quite a few times, and may just die of shock if someone does grant me my wish.

Momma isn't too bothered about me staying here though. No. It almost seems like she's doing it just to spite me. I also partially think that she only uses the excuse of me being a fuck up to cover up the fact that she just misses me and never wants me to leave home.

Mmmm....maybe not.

It's frustrating mostly. I don't understand her reasons and understand at the same time, which only frustrates me even more. I wish things weren't so hard. And I hate it when she says things like, "well that's life for you." I refuse to accept that. Life, to me, is what you make it, and it just so happens that I want to make mine in London. It's just proving to be a lot more difficult the second time around.

I tell her that I'm ready. I tell her that I want a second chance. I tell her that it isn't fair and that I want to prove to her (and myself) that I can do it properly this time. I won't mess up. I won't piss my money away. I just want to finish what I started and come this time, I'm going to do it right. I apologize over and over about fucking up, but we all make mistakes and I'm so ready to sort myself out. It won't be new to me like it was the first time. It won't be a shock to my system. I won't be so intimidated this time around. I'll be set up better and going in with a much better picture of life over there. I know people. I'm comfortable there. It's my home.

Mine.

Not our's.

Mine. London is where I stepped out on my own. Alone. Without her. Or Mel. Or anybody else.

Just me.

And I can't believe she'd want to take that from me. Or make it more difficult for me to go back there.

I'm scared about the next few days. Hell, the next few weeks. I don't know what's going to happen. I just know that I'm afraid and I want everything to just fall into place for me. I'm still hopeful. Barely, but still holding out for something. Anything.

Because I can't think of what may happen if I don't go. I can't think about that now.

Posted by Sam at 02:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

Yesterday I kind of hit this girl's car in the parking lot at Five Guys.

Brushed it, really. Scratched it slightly. Nothing major. You can't even tell on my car that there was any damage.

This girl (who just so happened to be sitting in her car while I scraped it) LOST HER SHIT.

"What do you think you're doing?!" she screamed at me.

"Um, nothing." I cooly replied.

"You just hit my car!" she yelped.

"Oh did I? My bad." I really didn't see the big deal. I hit, scratch and bump my car all the time. It never really occured to me that other people might not like it when that happens to their cars. Ah, well.

I was riding with a fellow co-worker of mine, Erik, who is the big brother that I never wanted. He's so adorably funny and we're always inventing new ways to waste time at work since our jobs are pretty lame and there's really nothing else to do.

All three of us hopped out of our vehicles and stood around. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. I've never had to deal with other people whenever I hit things. I normally just brush it off my back and continue on with life. I remembered seeing people on TV and in the movies always swap insurance information though, so I figured that's what we should do.

Unfortunately for me, I didn't have my insurance card on me. I didn't need it while I was in London, so I took it out of my wallet and forgot about it. I also didn't have a cell phone number to give her since I had dropped mine in a puddle of water, also while I was in London and never got it replaced with an American phone. I did, however, still have my UK phone and thought about giving her that number just to be mean. I decided against it.

It took about fifteen minutes, but I eventually left the psycho girl in the parking lot with all of my information that I could think of to give her. She was on her cell phone the entire time calling up everyone she knew.

"Yeah, so I'm going to be late. This girl totally just hit my car. I know. I know. No, I don't know what to do."

I just kind of stood around in the heat, melting while I tried to figure out why she was so freaked. It was a minor scratch. Hell, I could have spit on her car and rubbed it off with no problems. Easy as cake. She just kept on going on and on as if I had smashed into her and would leave her in a foam neck brace for the next three months. A complete drama queen.

Erik went inside halfway through the mini crisis and ordered my food for me since being outside was way too hot for him. It was too hot for me too and I was wearing black trousers and boots up to my knees. I wasn't sure why. I just felt like wearing pointy boots that day.

Eventually, once I had made it back to the office and explained to Momma what had happened, I decided to call it a day. Life at this particular moment in time was way too hard for me to deal with and all I wanted to do was go home.

So I did. And I ate two hotdogs and watched dvds for the rest of the night. It was just what I needed in order to put the stupid situation behind me.

These past few weeks have been quite busy and difficult for me. I've been trying to sort my loan, working, writing some non-blog related things, preparing for Jon and Helen's arrival, working, searching for scholarships, cleaning, working, trying to learn all of this new crap at work that I don't understand and never want to understand and of course, continuing to work. All while slowly turning into human jerky because the heat doesn't seem to want to go away.

Today is supposed to be one of the hottest days of the year. According to the weather man, the heat index is supposed to be around 110. Nice. I came into work wearing one of my small summer dresses and still feel like I'm being suffocated by the humidity. It clings to my legs and makes my hair all frizzy. I just want to go back home and snooze under my covers until tomorrow when hopefully it's a bit cooler.

I've got about two weeks left of work and then I'll be completely finished. I can't say that I'll be sad to leave. This job that they've stuck me on is so pointless in my eyes and I can't come up with any good reasons as to why I should even continue. Aside from the fact that I still could do with a paycheck until it's time for me to go. But I've found myself in the same exact place where I was all those months ago when I felt like I was in a rut and couldn't find an escape route. I sink into almost a hypnotic state and aimlessly roam up and down the hallways and find people to distract from their jobs that they actually do.

I suppose I could just continue on with Erik and chat shit about his graffiti on facebook, or come up with new ways to waste time. Like the one time when I saw I had a voicemail on my red phone. I hate getting voicemail on my red phone. It worries me because that means that I've got to deal with people and generally call them back. Instead, the voicemail was from Erik and all he said was, "haha. You just wasted time checking voicemail."

Back to the daily grind.

Posted by Sam at 09:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)