Well, now I've really done it, Blog. For a long time now I've wallowed in this rut and I think I'm on the cusp of leaping out of it. I just got a text that reads "Let this new era begin! Yes!"
Thank you Andy Browers.
I'm going to move, Blog. I'm going to sacrifice all that I love about my quaint uptown apartment what with its French windows, decorative fireplace, and tiled bathroom, and exchange it for a bedroom in an upper level duplex on the other side of Uptown along with an extra $250 a month.
I need the money so I can save it and get myself to a point where I can maybe not spend 40 hours a week in this cubicle.
I'm not doing this alone. You never can, really. I have the opportunity to live with Andy, and I fully expect to take advantage of rooming with this old college friend who offers not only cameraderie, but who also is a source of motivation. I don't know what will happen, but I think that's a good place to be after spending such a long time being able to predict every day with the accuracy of Robin Hood, Annie Oakley, and Katniss Everdeen combined. It is time for a change of some sort.
In other news, I. Suck. At. Dating.
Saturday night I went to a concert, which is something I wish I did more. It was a great concert. A little bit of this band in my ears is never a bad thing. I saw a Sousaphone in action, Blog. A real live Sousaphone. Life was good.
Under a painted sky that intensified with every swig of my Michelob Golden Light, I wove in and out of the crowd with Kerin; the entire time wondering why the hell I don't drop $25 on this sort a thing more often. I guess it's because lately the rut I've been in hasn't allowed me to try new things, like oh say, concerts. Note to self: concerts are fun.
You know what else is fun? Getting drinks after the concert with my friends and this dude who they know who, I don't know, seemed into me enough to where I might have closed the bar down with him long after my friends bailed for the evening. You know, like you do. Just closing down the bar with some dude you just met. Who seems into you. But maybe not. I don't know. Remember, I suck at dating.
After half an hour of wish-washing down the street, not wanting to part in our drunken stupor, a cab came out of nowhere to whisk me away from the strange neighborhood where we had spent the evening. I climbed into the taxi reluctantly and only because I didn't want to come off as one of those floosies who spends the night with a guy she's just met. I wanted to maintain my class and virtue. I wanted to remain mysterious. I was also freaked out of my mind because, I don't know, I haven't really been into a guy practically since this year started and don't know how to deal with feelings anymore.
The moment I shut the door, I felt funny. Like I wasn't supposed to be in this car. The feeling was so strong, that I almost told the driver to stop so I could jump out and wave down dude who I had spent the past four hours with. But, and I realized this the next day, I've become very accustomed to allowing my head take over my heart in these situations. I subconsciously told my heart to shut the hell up, you don't know what you're talking about. Remember the times when I put all my faith in you and everything got totally fucked up and stupid? Yeah me too. I resolved to stick with what my head was telling me and dug into my purse to ensure I had my wallet, phone, and ke--.
Where are my keys?
They're right... they're in here somewhere.
They are at Kerin's aren't they.
Since I spend all my time in South Minneapolis these days, the evening's excursion began at Kerin and Nick's place with half a hot dog and a glass of wine. Apparently, dropping my keys on the dining room table had been part of the pre-concert festivities.
At this point, dude was long-gone on his bicycle and I was rapidly heading towards a very locked apartment in Uptown. I told the driver to change his route to South Minneapolis. I figured I'd just knock on the door and their dog Toby would yap away like there's no tomorrow (though at this point it was tomorrow). Nick and/or Kerin would wake up, let me in, and I'd be on my way.
Except that when Nick and Kerin go to sleep, they go into this weird night coma where 45 minutes of a barking dog, pounding door, and crying girl have absolutely no effect.
Apparently a dog bone repeatedly thrown at a window doesn't do much either. I had changed my tactic to chucking landscape rocks when Kerin finally peeked through the blinds and subsequently emerged at the back door.
I don't know if it's fate telling me I should have gone home with that guy or what; at least I would have had known that I had a place to stay for the night that wasn't someone's lawn. If anything, this has been a huge wake up call for my head to take a breather and let my heart make an appearance every now and then. It's petrifying and at the end of it all I didn't even end up with a number exchange or a kiss. I managed to squeak out that I'd like to see him again, but that doesn't really do much when you have no way of getting a hold of each other.
So bad at dating...
I need to break up with the depressed version of myself and hook up with stressed-out-me. Sure it's a rollercoaster relationship, but God. I've been sad because I'm bored and I've been bored because I'm sad. Step one to getting out of this is emailing my landlord to tell him I need to be out of my place by the end of August.