it had been three months, but last night, collapsed on the kitchen floor sobbing from stress and general misery, i didn't even have to stand up to get the scissors. i had to prove to myself that i could still do it; it's a matter of bravery, courage.
sometimes it's to let the emotions out. sometimes it's to halt the incessant flow of emotions, whatever they may be: joy, depression, angst, boredom. last night, i wanted to see if i still had it in me.
i did. cat scratches all over my ankle.
i tried calling jen stearns, but she wasn't picking up.
i'm always there for you, baby, where were you?
so i called cary instead.
honey, what's the matter? are you alone?
yes.
where is everyone?
i dunno. aaron was supposed to meet me at work but he never did. joanna's working. michelle's at school.
are you ok?
no.
...
aaron finally called. i guess he had left a voicemail that disappeared telling me that he was at the pizza place. so after my hour-long sob session, some mac and cheese, and a glass of 2.99/bottle chardonnay, i go to romio's and we get tipsy with his work buddies over alaskan ale.
o, the legal life.
we were falling asleep around 11pm when, after a night of blissful silence, the bass starts up from next door. we pound on the wall, so they turn it up. we pound more, and nothing happens. i go over there and say we were asleep and tell michelle that we're going to sleep in the living room. we're just about to sleep again when neighbor brad comes over to talk to aaron...alone. ummm. when aaron finally comes back in, he says that brad was saying he heard aaron wanted to kick his ass and he just wanted make sure that they were, you know, cool and shit. i thought that was fucking hilarious, considering it came from absolutely nowhere.
although brad does need a good ole-fashioned ass-kicking.
dude, nerk, i'm such a frat boy.
heh, dude, i'm such a fuck-up.
sigh.