So what if I spent my last two journal entries whining and complaining and feeling sorry for myself?

Actually, in hindsight, my birthday was *not* that bad.

Last Sunday saw Daniel and I going to Tuscaloosa for a Nikki-led campus tour of UA. Thinking about next year and the changes it will inevitably bring made me realize that--well, I'm not quite sure what it made me realize. Things will be so different. I've started to get wistful about it already. Leaving my grandmother will be hard (for both of us). I think it will be difficult for her to go back to living alone after having me in the house for two years. Oh, and can we stop and discuss that? Two years! Granted, it's only been a little over a year so far, but two years is an awfully long unexpected detour. But it's one that I'm very grateful for. In so many ways I've loved living with her.

And of course these sorts of things drifted through my head Thanksgiving Day, which we spent at my aunt's house. Momma actually came this year. She didn't stay for very long, but I was grateful for it. Gratefulness--I'm grateful for so much, and I take it all for granted too often. So here's a list:

#1) I'm thankful that Mimi basically took over as my parent for the past year. She has let me live with her, she has provided for me, she has loved me unconditionally, she has given me great advice, and she has overall supported me.

#2) I'm thankful that I have a job, even if I don't love it and even though most of the time I don't feel like doing it. At least I have one to put money in my wallet and in my savings.

#3) I'm thankful to be an American. And I mean that sincerely.

#4) I'm thankful for how much I've grown this past year. I've learned copious lessons about such important things as money and responsibility.

#5) I'm thankful for the recent renewal of my relationship with my mother. Now that we work together, we obviously see one another much more often, and it really has helped things get better between us. I'm not sure if we'll ever really be the same. Too much has changed and will continue to change. I'll never live with her again (never say never, right?). She'll never really have to parent me anymore. But that doesn't change my love for her and her love for me.

#6) This sounds awful, but I'm thankful that my mother is coming to her senses and trying to fix her family. She and Bobby have discussed things (all of which boil down to the devil-spawn that is Hunter), and they've begun implementing a separation plan. If nothing changes, come January, my mom will be on her own (she already has a rental house waiting for her) and Stephen will be restored to her (about a month ago he moved out and is now living with his dad--because of Hunter). I truly believe these steps are necessary if my mom is to ever be happy again. I want her to live her own life.

#7) I'm thankful for lots of other things, like having this laptop on which I'm typing right now. Perhaps this type of consumerism falls under the "thankful to be an American" category, though, huh?

My Thanksgiving was pleasant. I put up the Christmas lights outside. I bought and set up a tree. Mimi did all the other little decorations while we listened to Christmas music. I saw my family. And it was good. These past two days were both very enjoyable (last night Mimi, Momma, and I saw "A Christmas Carol: The Musical" at ASF), but today I have to go back to work. *deep sigh*

---

College news-- I have a new college on the top of my list: University of Texas at Dallas. They offered me a wonderful scholarship (the best I've been proffered so far) that pays for tuition and mandatory fees, bestows a $1500 cash stipend for books, and contributes $1000/year for housing. So all I would have to pay is the remaining housing expenses, which equals $4,000/year. Alabama was at the top of my list--and it still is a major consideration at #2. But the scholarship they granted only pays for tuition and leaves me with a remainder of $8000/year. However, in either January or early February I'm going to take a trip to Texas and visit the campus. I'm going to do a tour of Montevallo sometime in December--so nothing is final whatsoever at this point.

---

I miss the period of my life when I didn't really have responsibility, when life was easy, when my biggest worry was doing easy homework, when I could play video games guilt-free, when my mom and I had a great relationship, when I had great friends.

But, despite all this, I'm thankful to be where I am today, even if it isn't exactly where I want(ed) to be.

I didn't really finish all my thoughts from last night's entry--let me continue.

What I was trying to say about birthdays and getting older was that parents and family build up our expectations too much, prepare us for a falsehood. Once we grow up, we realize birthdays are really just something of a sham.

And . . . last night my grandmother and I went to eat at Kabuki with my mom and Stephen. It was Mimi's idea to take Stephen. Apparently, he and Bobby got in a scuffle and he moved permanently to his dad's house about two weeks ago. So I wasn't sure if things were going to be awkward between everyone--but they weren't. It was definitely the high point of the day (probably because it was the only part of the day in which I was out of the house). It was good seeing Momma--I think this was my first birthday which did not start off with seeing her. She got me a boxed set of 250 cheesy horror movies that I've been wanting. We were supposed to have lunch and go shopping together today, but when I called her this morning, she had to cancel because of work (which I half-expected). I'm still disappointed, though, because I don't want to be stuck in this house all day.

I didn't have to work yesterday, and I'm also off today.

And yeah . . . work. Outback's certainly better than Buckmaster's. Most everyone who works with me has been phenomenally nice and helpful. For the past month I've been doing the takeaway service, and since no one who orders takeaway really ever tips that well, I've been making hardly any money--only about enough to get by with. This past week I did my training to be a server, and my first night on the floor by myself will either be tomorrow or Wednesday, and maybe now I'll finally start to make some tips! At first I thought it would be weird working there with my mom, but it really isn't. I actually enjoy seeing her on a semi-regular basis now, even if it is fleetingly.

My third night of training I spilt three drinks all over some people, but other than, I've been doing okay.

So--my work schedule (mostly nights) has further mutilated what little social life I had left. My days consist of very little, really. I get up, take a shower, do the aforementioned random stuff that's ultimately pointless (i.e., read, watch TV, be a news junkie, idly pet my cats, clean, do laundry), eat lunch, do more random stuff, get ready for work, leave, work, come home, do even more random stuff, and finally go to bed. I don't see my grandmother as much as I used to anymore. Actually, a lot of days I only see her for about an hour, in the time between she gets home from work and I leave for work. By the time I get home at nights she's almost always asleep.

There have been times when I've been tempted to quit and try to find a job I would like better--but then I remember how painful and difficult it is to find a job at all, much less a job you'll like. And it's not as though I hate working at Outback. Honestly, it's not that bad. It can be a little hectic at times, but that just makes the time go by more quickly.

I just don't want to live like this for the next seven or eight months. If only I could fast-forward life to next fall.

[P.S.-- Something that makes me inexplicably sad is that I didn't get a birthday cake yesterday, and as such, no one ever sang the birthday song to me--and I didn't get to make a birthday wish.]

Today was my birthday. Birthdays are such fickle things. When you think about it, they're totally rapacious. Everyday is thousands of people's birthday. But it's your own only once a year. And that's the only important one, right? I mean, sure, your mom's and best friend's count for something, but compared to your own . . .

Also, I'm learning that birthdays are mostly a children's thing. Actually, I have a theory: for about eighteen years we are brought up to believe that our birthdays are amazing events to be celebrated by everyone with inordinate amounts of attention-and-gift-giving to you. Your parents (typically) idolize you, and, thus, your birthdays are pretty big affairs.

That all changes, though. You still get little odd gifts if you're lucky, but only a very select few people actually care that it's your birthday once you're older than 18. And even they don't worship at your altar anymore like they did when you were 5.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that this wasn't a particularly grand birthday. However, only thirteen minutes are left, and I've yet to cry! That must mean it hasn't been a completely depressing one, either.

Only two people really cared this year: my grandmother and my mother, and even their zealousness was substantially subdued compared to last year (granted last year's 18th birthday was a sizable milestone, as birthdays go). My grandmother was at church when I woke up, and I'm just now realizing that that means no was there this morning to greet me. Her gifts to me were appreciated but anticlimactic: a decent blazer that I like but don't love, two dress shirts which I like just fine but will hardly ever wear (I'm not really sure why she felt compelled to buy them for me), and two casual long-sleeve plaid-type shirts which, to be frank, I'm not wild about at all. Yes, I absolutely need the clothes, but--this is definitely a reaction residual of my child mentality--I'm always disappointed by the presentation of clothes as gifts. Unless they're clothes that I love. And therein lies the problem: people can only guess at what clothes I will or will not like.

The rest of the day, until about five-thirty, was like any other Sunday. My grandmother napped. I cleaned my room. Did some laundry. Listened to Joni Mitchell's Blue album. (It seemed appropriate.) Checked my Facebook like a maniac to see online birthday wishes from people who I never see or talk to.

At least Daniel called me. He couldn't come over, and our phone conversation lasted for all of two minutes, but he did vocally wish me a happy birthday, and he was the only non-family person I know to do that this year.

Which got me to thinking of another aspect of birthdays: they're kind of like an annual State of the Union address for one's social life. As shallow as it sounds, the events of one's birthday will effectively relay to oneself how many true friends one has and the quality of those friendships. It also reflects upon the condition of one's familial relationships. So where does everything tally up for me? It looks like I have one casual friend, a grandmother with whom I have a pretty good relationship, and a mother whose presence is largely absent from my life.

----And my birthday is now officially over. It's strange how I semi-desperately want to cling to it.----

I'm not bitter. Really, I'm not. Today just made me realize how lonely I am. Last year was one of the best birthdays I've had. I spent half of it with friends I loved and who loved me and the other half of it with family. It started and ended so cozily--from my mom waking me up with the scent of a cinnamon broom, to me watching The Jungle Book with my grandmother. I was never bored because I was doing something the whole day. Today was mostly spent solitarily. And I'm wondering how the hell to recreate a social life. How to live again, to have fun, to have friends.

Without school, I just don't know.

So yes, things changed so much in the past year. From one of my highs to one of my lows. Practically everything's different from what it was a year ago.

I want last year, or I want next year. I just don't want this year, this limbo, this puerile purgatory, this exercise in patience. I have no life anymore--I sleep, I eat, I work, and other little things in between that ultimately don't matter. I'm alive, but I'm not living.

How to change it, though? Is there a way? Is it even worth it, or do I just have to resign myself to waiting, to get through this year so that my life may begin again anew next year?

I hate the way things are. Is it better to live dangerously and take risks than live staidly and do nothing? Perhaps I need a shake-up. What better year to have one than my twentieth?

Josh Rapp--you're out there somewhere, and now it's your birthday, so happy birthday, my friend. I hate how divided we've grown.

From the looks of things, I've been on an upward swing as of late. Two weekends ago, about the time I wrote my last entry, was probably the nadir of my recent existence. I felt miserable, lonely, and downright depressed. Luckily, it didn't last that long.

After about a week of applying and testing and interviewing at the Outback Steakhouse in Prattville, I was finally hired on as a sever. I had an orientation Saturday. Two other trainees were there with me--on a fellow server, the other a soon-to-be hostess. The server-woman (I think her name is Alicia) just moved back to Prattville from a six-year-stay out West. As in, California/Nevada. She was talkative and mildly annoying, but in an endearing way. The hostess (I believe her name is Caitlyn) was your typical 16-year-old Prattville high-schooler. One of the first questions we were asked at the orientation was what our dream-job would be. I said being a novelist, although I'm not really sure that's entirely true. Alicia said anything involving music, i.e. an engineer or producer. Caitlyn said to be a housewife. How tremendous her aspiration. As if to justify herself, she quickly added, full of deadpan confidence and in a business-like tone, "But I'm going to be a neurosurgeon." Sure you are, honey.

I begin training tomorrow. I have no idea how many hours/days I'll be going or what my schedule will look like at all. But that's okay. I need a job, and this will be suitable. Oh, and my mom now also works there as a part-time waitress. So I'll be working with my mother. Needless to say, I'm ambivalent about that.

For the first month or so I'll be working the takeaway services, until my birthday, when I'll start doing actual waiting. (Apparently there's an Alabama law that states servers have to be at least nineteen years old.)

[P.S.--I never did hear anything back from the law firm. Assholes.]

I interviewed for the legal runner job last Monday--nearly ten weekdays ago. I thought the interview went very well. I became excited at the prospect of getting the job; it seemed perfect for me. So I waited. Come last Wednesday, I hadn't heard anything, so I called them up. The receptionist told me they were in a meeting discussing it at that moment and that they had yet to make a final decision. So I thought, okay, well, if they're discussing it now, that probably means I'll hear back from them in the next day. I was wrong. By late Friday afternoon, they had still not contacted me. So I called them again. The receptionist asks if I'm Josh or Eric. Eric?! I groaned inwardly. I had competition, apparently. She told me that they still had not made a decision and that they would contact me once they did.

One week later, I'm still clueless. I've waited all week for the phone to ring. It did ring a couple of times, but it was never the law firm. I'm disappointed, but it's been a gradual letdown. Every day that they didn't call me made my hopes for getting the job decrease, bit by bit.

My plan now is to finally go apply to restaurants. My mom has actually had to take on a second part-time job as a waitress at Outback, and she recommends applying there. She's going to pick me up an application, and come Monday, I'll submit it.

My patience is waning.

I sure hope that in ten years, I'll be able to look back at this time in my life and simply laugh, knowing that it was just an awkward waiting period.

Words can't describe how badly I wish I was in school. Nostalgia for last year (!) often overtakes me. I didn't realize it at the time, of course, but one year ago was a very good time for me, probably one of the best I've ever had. So in a way, my life is comparable to the U.S. stock market. One year ago today, it was at one of its all-time highs. Presently, it's in one of its all-time lows.

Amanda and Cameron both hate me now, and for understandable reasons, even if I don't want to admit it. My friendship with them is officially over, but I just can't seem to get over that.

It appears that my one true friend through all this has been Daniel. Other than him . . .

-----

I've officially been accepted to SFA State University in Texas, the University of Montevallo, and the University of Alabama. However, I won't find out anything about scholarships until a couple of months. Still, I enjoy receiving all this mail from colleges. My acceptance letter from SFASU was particularly enjoyable. It was in a little envelope, labeled "Excitement Inside!" Smiling, I carefully opened the envelope to reveal a little card that said "Congratulations!" Opening the card, star-and-Texas-shaped glitter pieces fell upon my lap, the card telling me I had been accepted with cute graphics and wit.

If only every acceptance letter were that enthralling.

-----

With nothing else to do, I'm constantly keeping track of politics. It's hard to believe election day is less than a month away! I'm so excited! At this point, I feel fairly confident that Obama WILL win.

-----

So if I had to admit one or the other, I would say my life is getting worse, not better. I don't regret quitting the Buckmasters job, though. Honestly, if I were still doing that, I'd probably we crazy right now. Or very, very, very depressed. I guess that's the trick to the "real world": Getting and maintaining a job that doesn't drive you insane.

I present the complete trilogy of The Adventures of Josh the Buckmasters Telemarketer.

Part One:

So yesterday was my first day at work as a telemarketer for Buckmasters Deer Hunting Association (cue the confused laughter).

I get there by noon, and for the first two hours, I train with one other new person. She's in her mid-20s and has been doing this sort of work for a while, so she definitely has better experience than me. The training goes just fine, and then we go out there and basically just start making the calls. So I'm in my little cubicle, calling people and fumbling over the script. Our goal is to sell five-year memberships to people. One of the items you get is a "special winterized stocking cap," or as we like to call it here in the South, a toboggan. One time I accidentally said a "special winterized cat." The person just hung up.

I would say 90% of the time you just get an answering machine. If someone does answer, a lot of times it's a spouse who has no interest in hunting. So only about 3-5% of the time am I actually able to fully complete my pitch to the clients. A lot of times people just say "not interested" and/or hang up. I understand completely. I know how annoying telemarketers are, and I feel almost guilty for being one. Even if they say no, we're supposed to keep pitching it to them and basically trick them into accepting the invoice to be mailed to them. I completely disagree with this. If they say they don't want it, my inclination is to say thanks anyway and hang up.

Sometimes I'll call and ask for so-and-so and the person on the phone will ask "Who?" really incredulously, as if they had never even heard of the name I had just mentioned in their entire life.

One guy called me a clueless dirty weasel (the clueless part's pretty true).

Some people are really nice and friendly.

Sometimes little girls will answer the phone who don't even realize the name I'm asking for is probably their daddies. Me: "Is Joe there?" Little girl: "Joe doesn't live here!" The tone in which says it makes you believe she's about to say: "Duh, silly!"

Some people are too gullible.

Some people's answering machines are really funny. One said, "You've reached ____. Leave a message; happy holidays '06!" What happened to that person?

Another thing that makes me guilty is that part of the fees from the membership go towards "fighting against anti-hunting organizations." (Read: PETA.) One of my coworkers will actually say to the customers: "Now remember, part of this money goes to fight against them PETA folks to make sure they don't take your rights away and try to turn you into a vegetarian!"

About halfway through the day I noticed that there was a book on my desk that was entitled "How to Tell an Ass from an Elephant: A Republican's View of Democrats."

So not only am I out of place, but so are my "Obama" and "I brake for squirrels" bumper stickers. Oh, my liberal hippie car!

Part Two:

So yesterday night when we were all leaving for home, this one guy, maybe a year or two older than me, asks me how my shift went. "Oh, not that great," I said. "I only got three commissions." His reply: "It's all good, man. I've got some crack waiting in the car." I just laugh. I still don't know whether he was serious or joking.

Yesterday during my break on the evening shift I meet Ellen, a middle-aged woman who works at an insurance company during the day and works at Buckmasters at night for extra income. She is by far the nicest person I've met there. Every time we see each other now, she smiles so warmly and waves encouragingly. Actually, now that I think about it, it's kinda creepy . . .

Today one of my supervisors asks if I like sweet tea. Me: "Yeah, man, I love it!" Him: "Then you gotta try this sweet tea with vodka twist they sell over in Georgia! It's fuckin' awesome!"

One client today, after realizing I was a solicitor, asks me how he's supposed to pay for whatever I'm selling with the economy the way it is. Don't we watch the news, he asks. Turn on the TV, he orders. I reply, "Well, sir, that's exactly why I'm doing my job here!"

I've got an inexplicable crush on a forty-year-old guy who works there. Don't even ask.

One guy who sits across from me is absolutely gorgeous, and I cannot ever seem to be able to take my eyes off him.

Remember the little girl who told me "Joe doesn't live here" when it was probably her dad? Somehow, by the draw of fate, I find myself on the phone with her again. "Is Joe there?" I ask. "No, silly, I already told you Joe doesn't live here!" she replies.

There's a sign on the wall that says, "Pitch to everyone!" For a second, I thought it said, "Bitch to everyone!"

I sold eight commissions today, versus yesterday's three!

However, as soon as I find another job, I'm going to quit. There's no way I can continue to work there full-time and stay sane.

Part Three:

Everyday it's been getting harder and harder for me to make myself go to work, knowing how much I hate it. Today was the worst. Once I get there, I don't even want to hear the voices of all the obnoxious rednecks I'm calling. But I'm not going to sit here and talk about my anger.

Mr. Gorgeous-Guy-Who-Sits-Across-from-Me wasn't there today, so that was sad.

I completed an entire crossword puzzle in between calls.

One client answers the phone: "Hello?" Me: "Hi, is Eric in?" "No, he's not here." Me: "Okay, maybe you can help me out. Do you do any kind of deer hunting with Eric?" Her incredulous reply is, "You want to go deer hunting with Eric?!?!"

Yesterday I talked to a guy over in Georgia. He realized I was calling from Montgomery, and he talks about how he went to Lee. Go Generals. Lanier sucks. Blah, blah, blah. But he was fun. I told him my mom went to Lee, and he said, "God bless her." As if she sneezed. (That's a joke, by the way.)

One person I tried to call today had one of those call-back tones instead of a ring. It was the hip-hop song "Lick That Lollipop."

One really funny guy answers the phone, "You were ringin', I'm a-listenin'." I ask him how he is. He says, "Never better, but I lie." I genuinely laugh out loud. Turns out, he's a retired engineer in Ohio who now does some bee-keeping/husbandry on the side. I thought that was pretty awesome.

One woman answers the phone in an ultre-depressed mood. It was utterly heartbreaking when I asked if her husband was there, and she said no so pathetically. :(

So all these fun moments may make this job seem fantastic and so interesting, but it's not. I'm just giving you the few and far between highlights of an eight-hour work day. After my first shift, I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take the environment, my coworkers, the work, being a pushy telemarketer, putting up a front to sell a shitty membership, working for something I don't necessarily support, feeling like a robot who doesn't care about the people I'm calling, etc.

So I quit.

Tomorrow I go applying as a waiter to a couple of restaurants and a runner to a couple of law firms.

I hoped you all enjoyed the " Josh the Buckmasters telemarketer" trilogy.

FRIDAY AFTERNOON UPDATE:

I've got an interview at a local firm for a runner position on Monday! So yay!

-----

Goods news is that my interview with the law firm went very well. I think that their position would be a job I would actually really enjoy, which apparently matters. (Whodathunkit?) Hopefully I will hear a definitive answers from them soon.

While my grandmother and I went over to talk to my mom about the tax returns situation (she says things will be much more cooperative this year), my mom mentioned the fact that Chris, my second cousin's fiancee-to-be, could hire me in a jiffy at Buckmasters as a telemarketer. Of course the first reaction I have is Why the hell hasn't anyone mentioned this to me before now?

The next morning I call him, ask for a job, and get hired on the spot. It was literally as simple as that. I start tomorrow. My schedule will be Tuesdays-Saturdays, noon-8 PM. Forty hours a week. $6.55 an hour, plus commissions; the average pay rate ends up being around $10 an hour.

And I'm kind of excited to start work tomorrow. Just to be doing something will feel good. In about two weeks, I will probably hate this job, but that's okay. It pays good, and it's exactly what I need. Now I just have to patient and diligent.

I've already applied to six colleges: UA, AU, AUM, Montevallo, University of Texas at Dallas, and Stephen F. Austin State University (in Texas). I'm going to go ahead and also apply to Troy, as well as reopening my application to Huntingdon. After that, there's a college in NY I want to apply to . . . but I'm not really sure what to do once that's done. I need more colleges to apply to, but I'm trying to avoid private ones.

I went with Daniel to the Day of Equality Saturday. I had a good time, and I met a lot of folks from UA's Spectrum organization. The discussions were enlightening, and I left feeling encouraged.

I'm too tired to be writing this thing. Here's hoping that my first day of work goes well.

Apparently I made a good impression with Mrs. Ginsburg, the wife of the doctor whose office I applied to. I've talked to her a couple of times now, and she finally just admitted that she didn't want to hire me because it looks like she's already got someone else with more experienced lined up for the job.

But she said she really liked me, and she asked around for jobs suitable for me.

And that's how she referred me to Neil Lebovitz, who owns some sort of (dismal) steel/pipe company.

Today I went up there to have an interview with Mr. Lebovitz and his wife.

They're very nice people--incredibly friendly, warm, down-to-earth. Mr. Lebovitz explained the job to me, and it's a lot different from what Mrs. Ginsburg described. It's quite physical--a lot of heavy-lifting of rusty pipes 50 feet long. He said he might would have to teach me to use a forklift(!). I would count all these pipes and pieces of steel and measure them and then enter them into an inventory--and serve as a personal assistant all at the same time. And he said he only would really need me three days a week.

The place itself is depressing. Today's overcast sky didn't do much to help that impression. Imagine a podunk warehouse surrounded by an overgrown lot full of weeds and gravel and hundreds and hundreds of decades-old pipes the sizes of trucks--and longer!

It's near downtown.

And as the interview wore on, a dread began to fill me. Mr. Lebovitz, after eyeing me, would again and again reiterate "Now it's a dirty job . . . " and I would just nod my head and try to make myself appear capable. But I'm not capable. A voice inside my head began to whisper to me, "You would hate this job."

He asked me rather stinging questions. Q: "How long have you been looking for a job now?" A: "Oh, about two months." (It's been longer than that.)

Q: "Hmm. Now why is it no one's hired you if you were the salutatorian and all this other stuff?" A: "Well, sir, that's a good question. I've asked myself that quite a bit. I'm not really sure. It's not for lack of trying, I'll tell you that. And my lack of experience hasn't helped me out, either."

Et cetera.

And I would hate it. That's what it boils down to. It's hard, sweaty, dirty, semi-complicated work that won't even be a full-time job, and I would despise it.

Q: "Man, you'd be so perfect for that office job Chris Ginsburg has. Did you tell her that?" A: "Yes, sir, I tried to. But she's been out of town a lot lately, and she keeps telling me she's looking for someone with more experience."

His respones: "Yeah, but you'd just be so perfect for that." And he stressed that point several times.

By the end of the interview, I think he sensed my inner apprehension (even though I strained to keep it hidden). And he just nodded his head, and said, "Yeah, I'm thinking, I'm thinking." And he gave me his business card. Nodded his head some more. Led me to the door. "Hmm . . . yeah, I'm thinking. I'll tell you what, I'll call you tomorrow with a decision."

And I left. The first half of my day I was considerably happy. I've been much more happy this past week than I have been for quite some time. But now, after that whole interview, I just feel downtrodden and defeated and dejected and downright depressed. I'm sad because I was getting my hopes up about this job and it turns out to be a job I would absolutely hate. The owner doesn't seem to be too sure in my capability of handling the job, and neither do I. It was just overall a bad experience.

So. What will happen? I would say there's a big possibility he will call tomorrow and hire me. Will I accept? Honestly, I don't want to, but I feel like there's no way I can turn down any job offer at this point.

At the same time, I have legitimate concerns about the job, mainly its relatively low hours (about 20 a week).

So even if he does hire me, I might decline. It'd be better to find a full-time job that I'd enjoy, right? I don't know.

And then there's a possibility that he won't hire me. And that's that.

My problem is that I feel like I'm running out of places to which to apply.

-----

On to worse news. I did some deep research yesterday, making sure my file-my-own-taxes-as-an-independent plan for college and FAFSA would work out. And of course it won't. It turns out that I'll still be considered a dependent on my mother (even though I will be 19 and receiving zero financial support from her), and I will still need her taxes. This complicates everything, because this was the root of all my troubles last year. The good news is that I will not have to stress about my own taxes as much, because they won't be the primary documents. More on that at another time.

Still jobless. But I have a feeling that's going to change very soon, for several reasons.

#1) I've sown a lot of seeds. One of 'em's bound to harvest something.

#2) I believe I have finally reached that point where something has clicked within me--a switch that turns me from Josh-the-do-nothing-er to Josh-the-sick-and-tired-of-doing-nothing-er. In other words, I believe I'm finally mentally prepared for a job . . . I think.

#3) I'm starting to get hopeful and excited about my college opportunities for next year. I've still retained my cynicism and skepticism about everything, but I'm tentatively expecting things to go much better on the application/financial aid front this time around. I believe I've forgiven my mother. I'm letting go. At the same time, I wish I was in college now--thinking about waiting a whole 'nother year makes me want to scream! (Deep down inside, though, I know a year is really not that long.) All of this is to say that I need a job to pass the time this year (not to mention the money). I need a job to keep me sane.

Yes, I've been trying to get a job. But I can certainly try harder, and that's what I'm going to start doing.

-----

I bought a record player. Don't ask me why. All of a sudden I felt that I had to own one, so I bought one--and a bunch of records. My grandmother and I have been having fun with it.

I'm becoming somewhat of a homemaker in my spare time. Wash dishes, clean, dust, vacuum, make the bed, sweep, do laundry, mow the lawn, paint the walls (don't ask) . . .

Apparently, I am willingly and consciously closing certain friendships. For better or worse. Metaphorically and socially speaking, I am a phoenix on fire. Next up, ashes and rebirth.

I am already anticipating October/November/December, the fall triptych, my absolutely favorite time of the year. I know that, no matter what, autumn will cheer me up. Even if only by a little bit.

I'm tired of being bitter, jealous, jaded, and angry. I'm going to try to change that.

God, please give me the strength to change that.

Amen.

Okay, so I don't officially have a job, BUT. . . I applied to a receptionist position at a doctor's office at the behest one of my friend's moms. This mom says that I have the job, but the doctor's wife (who apparently runs the office) told me she'd consult her husband and get back to me. Their office is closed next week, so work wouldn't begin until September 11th. The wife originally said they're looking for someone with more experience, so I offered to work temporarily until they find someone to replace me. We're still operating under that agreement, but the mom says that they've been looking for someone with "more experience" for years.

So I just don't know. If I don't get the job, I have back-up places to apply to.

My life has become so aimless, and it wasn't until tonight that I realized I've become lonely. It's actually strange that this realization took so long. Daniel invited me to go see My Winnipeg (which was funny and weird and thoroughly enjoyable) at the Capri. Katharine was there. So was some other guy whom I don't really know. Anyway, all day (all week, really), I had been looking forward to this outing. And it was fun. And then it was over. And then I started thinking. And then it hit me: yes, I had been looking forward to seeing the movie, but more than that, I was anticipating the social company. So I started thinking more. When was the last time I had had any social company? And the answer was a week ago, if you exclude family. A week is a long time to be socially alone.

I've brought this upon myself. I haven't spoken to Amanda in weeks now, for I reason I don't really understand. Some of it stems from some twisted sense of pride/shame. Some of it is me punishing myself. Some of it is me still slightly angry at Amanda.

. . . What social life?

Albeit I knew this would happen.

-----

Encounters with my mother are always awkward for me now, and I hate that. I can't really keep up a conversation with her, because I can't think of any way to connect with her. I really just don't have anything to say to her anymore. I know she wants to reconnect, and so do I. It's just difficult. I can't even go to Millbrook without freaking out on some level. Just driving those streets and being in the town drives me crazy. It suffocates me. I begin wigging out. So those feelings don't help when I go to Momma's house.

-----

I'm so ashamed of myself.

Life sucks.

I keep trying to tell myself No, it doesn't. Sometimes I end up half-convincing myself that life only sometimes sucks, but then there are days like today when I am absolutely positive life sucks all the time.

I'm still jobless as ever. And it's beginning to drive me a little nuts. I feel pressure from everyone (not the least of which is myself) to get off my ass and work. I am trying to get a job, but I do feel as if I'm not trying hard enough. A lot of people have recommended that I try applying to a bunch of restaurants, like Outback and Longhorn and such, as "they're always hiring" and the pay's good (or the tips are, at least). So my goal for this week is to do that. Apply to at least four restaurants.

I've applied to dozens of other places, but no one seems to want to hire me. I applied to PETCO online (because that's the only way you can apply to PETCO--I hate that), and I see ads on Monster and all sorts of other job sites saying they're hiring. Well, hire me, dammit! I applied Thursday, so I'm going to call them by this Thursday and ask about it. It certainly wouldn't be the highest-paying job out there, but I'm getting kind of desperate.

But not desperate enough, it seems like.

It's not as though I'm completely broke. Not yet. I went on that Nashville job and made $400. So I've got money and the bank, but it's not going to last me much longer.

That Nashville job was hard as hell. We had two people less than last time, plus we had to unload the boxes from the 18-wheeler ourselves this time around. It was utterly exhausting. . . but definitely worth it. It gave me four days to feel useful and take my mind off of reality. A nice reprieve.

There had surfaced some hope that I might be able to get into college for the spring semester. I was talking to a mother of a friend who knew someone at UA. She was telling me all these inspiring stories of how I could get a full-ride easily for entrance into this spring semester. So that, in turn, inspired me to research other colleges that offer merit-based full-ride scholarships. And then I contacted these colleges. From what I understand, I might could get a full-tuition scholarship to UA, but not a full-ride anymore for reasons I don't fully understand. Others seemed slightly hopeful. . . some seemed impossible. All of them have one thing in common: in order to qualify for these, I have to apply for the fall term, and I have to apply as an incoming freshman. So what does this mean? It means I'm going to apply to all these colleges, including a couple of back-ups like AUM, for the 2009-2010 year. If one of them gives me a full-ride, then hallelujah! If not, I can always go to AUM.

No matter what, though, it appears that I will not be going to school for at least another year, and that drives me crazy.

A full year. . . of what? Of nothing. This year is going to suck. Suck incredibly hard. Hoover-hard.

Maybe that's my problem with this whole job situation. I'm lacking motivation, even though a job would at least give me something to do during the days. That's something I desperately need, not to mention the MONEY.

I despise money. I wish college was free. I wish life wasn't so difficult. I wish a lot of things, actually, but that doesn't change anything.

And my social life. . . is going down the tubes. And I feel like I'm stagnating--emotionally and intellectually.

-----

I'm worried about my mother. They seem to be in a lot of financial trouble right now, but I don't really fully understand it because my mother won't be upfront with me. It's not just the financial crap I'm worried about, though. I'm worried about her in general. I'm worried about her drinking habits. Her smoking habits. Her marriage problems. Stephen.

Chrystal's worried, too. We talked for a long time about it Friday, and then she invited over to her house to spend the night. I ended up staying there the whole weekend. Josh Rapp was there Friday night, and it felt good to have the three of us reunited. I'm glad Chrystal and her fiance Matt are doing so well. They have a house--a nice one. They have food. Cars. All the amenities. But more than that, they seem to be happy with each other. Cayden's getting big. Chrystal has moved on from her wild party animal days, thank God.

I got drunk Friday night, and then sang Jewel songs at the top of my lungs while blabbering about how I'm such a failure. At the time it all felt liberating, until I woke up the next morning with a very bad hangover.

I've missed Chrystal, and I'm going to make it a point to visit her often. The same things goes for Momma. I visited her Sunday after I left Chrystal's. Following the advice of Mimi, I made sure not to bring up college or money or anything stressful like that. I guess I'm trying to reconnect with my family.

I ended whatever it was I had with Justin. That was such a thorn in my side. But it doesn't look like he has yet to fully comprehend the meaning of "ending it." More on that later.

God willing, I will have a job by my next post.

I probably don't have time to be writing this entry, but whatever. I'm going to write it anyway.

Fact numbre un: It's really weird that school's back in session, but I'm not back in school. That's all there really is to say about that.

Fact numbre duex: I did another job with Sabrina's daycare furniture contract company up in Nashville. It was hell. Talk about menial labor... I'm sore in places that have never been sore before. Besides all that, though, I actually enjoyed it. There was good company (Sabrina, Jerry, Tia, and myself), good food (Sabrina sure takes care of her crew), etc. Plus, it was something to do, something to make me feel a little useful, even if only for four days. Getting back home today, it was almost like time stood still while I was gone. It was a reprieve from reality. The closer we got to Montgomery, the more I could feel the pressure of all these things that need to be done weighing down on me. I'm so sick of applying to jobs; it's not even funny. I can also tell I'm socially withdrawing myself, probably out of shame for my current circumstances. Whatever.

Autre facts: That's all there is to it, really. I'm about to start applying to colleges, yet again. I'm hoping to be able to get in somewhere for the spring semester. And I'm praying (yes, praying) that I'm able to get some sort of miraculous full-tuition scholarship, plus room/board if I need it. But I'm not counting on it.

Money sucks.

Our planned vacation to Texas fell through. Mostly because of my mother, but whatever. We (me, Amanda, and Stephen) wound up going to Birmingham, but not before I made some money doing some contract work for a daycare furniture company with a family friend. It was very hard physical labor, but it was definitely worth it. Our job was to unload the warehouse full of huge boxes full of daycare furniture, haul the boxes to the daycare center, unpack the boxes, and put together the furniture. It was in the Birmingham SSA office (weird, I know), and it lasted two days. I made $275, though, and I didn't have to pay for hotel or food or anything. And there is something satisfying about physical work.

The friend who let me in on the job asked me if I would do a similar one in two weeks. I said yes. This one will be in Nashville, but she said it should be easier because it'll be more organized.

Starting Monday I'll be working at a law firm for two weeks (the temp agency I applied to over a month ago finally pulled through), making phone calls and helping the firm update some sort of magazine publication they do every year. It's a long day's work (8-5, Monday-Friday), but it pays $9/hour. Money's money. Plus, it gives me an excuse to wear a tie everyday (something I've always secretly wanted to do).

So: Monday/Tuesday = furniture job. Wednesday-Thursday = vacationing in Savannah. Friday-Sunday = recuperation. Monday the 4th-Friday the 15th = law firm job. Sunday the 17th-Wednesday the 20th = furniture job again. I find it funny/wonderful how these three projects just sort of fell together perfectly, completely out of the blue, like three Tetris blocks. Hopefully this trend will continue.

I've decided to not to go to school this year, or at least for this semester. Instead I'm going to try to get a permanent full-time job and save up some money. If I'm not able to start school in the spring semester (it'll probably have to be at AUM), I'll definitely start next year. And that gives me a full year to work and make money and whatnot. I'm certainly sad that I may not be going to school at all this year (that's a very weird thought, actually), but I do think I'm making the right decision. It allows me to take control of my life, and start afresh with the whole applying to college thing.

Savannah was not all that exciting. It was definitely fun. I enjoyed myself. But it was missing a certain something. We only really stayed downtown in the historic district for maybe two hours--and that's really all there is to Savannah. We ate out a lot. Went to the movies. Went to the mall(s). I bought an exciting Japanese import of a symphonic Zelda soundtrack! Fun! Went to a fun beach on an island off the Georgia coast. It was enjoyable, but I wish it would have been more organized and could have lasted longer.

I've been clothes shopping the past two days like there's no tomorrow. This tax holiday simply makes me feel compelled to buy all I can. I'm sick of all the clothes I have--they're old, and all of them are too big now. So I'm working on building up my wardrobe from scratch.

An expensive thing to do.

Tomorrow will be spent cleaning up and getting ready for the upcoming two weeks. Hopefully I'll be competent at this job. And hopefully the people there won't be jerks.

I think this is the point where the proverbial dust is at its haziest. In about three weeks, things should settle down and I'll be able to make out where exactly I'll be for the next few months, maybe for the next year.

I think I'll be glad once I get back into a routine.

Just when I think I'm beginning to piece my life back together, to make a plan, to implement this plan, to reap the benefits of this plan, things get screwy. Screwier than ever before, because all of a sudden, due to certain events I'm not going to detail here and now, I'm seeing my life in a way I've never seen it before. And that's not necessarily a good thing folks. Bottom line: I'm miserable with where things have wound up.

About two weeks ago I had a little outburst. The healing comes after the deluge, right? Well, not really. At first things seemed to get better. I did a lot of thinking (this is definitely the summer of navel-gazing for me), and I came to some conclusions. I realize now they were only superficial conclusions that only addressed the symptoms and not the instigator.

At eighteen years old, you would think I would be too old to even consider running away. And truthfully, I haven't seriously considered it. It's just some sort of fantasy I have. I could pack up a few essentials and drive away in my car to some far-off destination. Get a job. Make some money. But that wouldn't be fulfilling.

Staying here, though? Living with my grandmother? It's just not what I want to do, and I know things aren't always about what you want. Trust me, I've heard of practicality, of pragmatism. But how is practicality really practical if it results in total unhappiness?

I'm probably being a bit melodramatic here, but melodrama has always been my strong suit.

I hope I'm not becoming one of those weird people who barely eat and borderline on anorexic. Well, I know I'm not one of those people, but from the way people talk sometimes, you would think it. I've been on my diet (a homemade mix of Atkin's and South Beach) for a little over two months now, with occasional cheating sprees, and I've lost about 30 pounds so far. Some people say I'm going overboard, that I'm losing too much too fast. My counter is always, "Isn't that the point of a diet? To lose weight?"

Well, isn't it?

That being said, I am happy with my current weight, and I think I will start transitioning from this diet to just adopting better eating habits than junk food 24/7. I know what I really need to do is just start exercising on a regular basis, but I haven't had any luck finding motivation to do that recently.

Today I finally realized how potentially unhappy I will be living with my grandmother for four more years. I started to wonder if I could handle that. I want to believe I can, but I'm just not 100% sure. My grandmother can get on my nerves...and for some reason this sense of spite and rebellion welled up in me thinking about all these things. I felt angry that I have to stay here. This is the complete opposite of what I wanted. And the sad thing is that I'm not one bit excited about the year to come. I'm not really looking forward to it at all, actually.

I've noticed, looking back, that most of my entries over the years deal with the more upsetting and depressing aspects of my life. I do have good days. Hell, I still consider myself to be a relatively happy person. I have great friends, and in many ways, I am very fortunate. I just tend to write about the more troublesome points of my life in order to hash them out. Free therapy sessions.

Decisions have certainly been made. Things are looking more definite. A sense of finality has indeed taken root.

Not to much good, though.

After painstakingly meticulous and thorough thinking, I decided to finally once and for all cancel my enrollment to Emerson. Funnily enough, I still haven't officially done that, but I am definitely not going to Emerson. I applied to Huntingdon and AUM after talking to my grandmother about my decision. I then talked to the rest of my family. Of course all they told me was the usual "oh, we're so proud that you actually thought the whole thing through" and "good for you for thinking about your future" crap. I do appreciate it, it's just... I'm still a little sore form the whole fiasco, I guess.

I already heard back from Huntingdon. I was accepted and offered a half-tuition scholarship. I'm hoping that I'll get even more money from need-based financial aid. We shall see. Basically, I've made up my mind that that's where I'm going to go, although I still haven't heard back from AUM. My grandmother made an annoying attempt at covertness yesterday when she tried to imply that I should choose to go to AUM, because I'll almost definitely get a free ride there. She has a point but... if I can't have Emerson, can't I at least have Huntingdon over AUM?

Still jobless, although I've sort of stopped trying at this point, mostly due to aggravation. I'm sick of applying to jobs, and I'm sick of interviewing for jobs. But the desperate fact remains that I need a job. I need money.

In other news: things have been somewhat more busy lately. I've had things to occupy myself with, believe it or not. Productive things. My grandmother decided that, since I'm staying here, she would buy me a pet cat. Of course I was very thrilled at hearing that--I've always wanted a cat, but I've never been able to get one. Saturday we went to the humane shelter and spent at least two hours there. There were so many cats/kittens; at first I had no idea how I would pick just one. I ended up picking just two: two boys, four months old. Both of them are very cute. I've named them Toby and Fox. Toby is orange and white, and Fox is mostly black with white feet and underbelly. They've been fun to watch and play with, and they're settling in very nicely to the home. Although they can both be very playful, they can also be calm and affectionate and overall very sweet.

However, in an ironic twist of events--a cosmic prank played by the Universe, I seem to be allergic to cats. I haven't brought it up to anybody yet, because I wasn't completely sure at first. I thought I must be imagining it when I first noticed my eyes were a little itchy and watery. But I'm pretty positive I'm not imagining it. It's a very mild allergy--it really just makes me eyes a little itchy. I don't plan on getting rid of the cats. I'm just going to see what I can do to reduce the symptoms.

My grandmother has given my free reign over the spare room. I decided to move my rats in there and not allow the cats in there. They've been acting strange--anxious and skittish. I don't know if they smell the cats or if the news surroundings are putting them on edge. At first it really worried me, but they do seem to gradually be getting used to things. I built them a playhouse out of cardboard boxes and things, but they've been to scared to play in it. I basically ratproofed the whole room. I bought new drapes, a new rug. I reupholstered the reading chair all by myself, and I am very impressed how it turned out. It looks damn good to be the work of a noob. I'm calling this room the "R" room: the rat, reading, and rest room. *cue the sardonic headshakes*

So I've been busy with cat stuff and rat stuff and redoing rooms and thinking about college and things like that. Really, not much has developed at all. I realized about an hour ago that graduation was a month ago today. I can hardly believe that. Then I realized that I'm borderline depressed. Well, not really. It's just that all the blocks are in place for the complete dissolution of my happiness. I'm sad and worried.

But the good news is that Wall-E comes out this week, and Amanda and I are most definitely going to go to the midnight showing this Thursday!

I thought I would record another entry that discusses the finer points of my life recently.

The past month (especially the past two weeks) have gone by in a blur. One minute I was in high school, the next I was accepting my diploma at graduation. Graduation itself was an experience. Already it seems ages ago, but it was only a week and a half ago.

The moment that sticks out the most for me is standing in the creative writing room on my last day and realizing that I had to say goodbye to that room. That whole day was full of goodbyes, obviously, and interestingly enough, it contained a lot of chess-playing, too. Chess became Madison and my new favorite obsessions those last few days. However, neither one of us are particularly noteworthy at it.

Two days after graduation, we discovered my great-grandmother had died. She was in her late seventies, but she had been very frail. Her death was not completely unexpected, but it did shake everyone up. Thankfully, she died peacefully in her sleep in her own bed. The not-so-relieving news is that she lied there for several days before the neighbor found her.

I was never that close with her, and neither was my mother. It's been hard on my grandmother, but she's been taking it extraordinarily well, considering. The brief funeral was Friday. We're now all in the process of cleaning out her house. One fortunate thing that came out of all of this is that my grandmother inherited her car (which is ten years old, but is very well-kept and has only 50,000 miles on it). Thus I received my grandmother's car. I'm incredibly grateful to have wheels to roll around in this summer -- it'll help with getting a job and keeping my sanity intact.

Which reminds me: I've been desperately hounding around for a job. So far I've applied to at least ten places, but no word back yet. This Friday I'm going to begin calling places back.

And, of course, there's my obsession with LOST. The season finale blew my mind away, needless to say. Now I just need to find a way to wait eight months until season five starts.

So yes, my life may seem as if it's been busy, but it really hasn't been at all. Besides all this mental and emotional strife that I've been going through, things have been pretty lax and comfortable. I should be more grateful for the small good things.

For the first time in a long time, I cried today. Really, genuinely cried -- sobbing and everything. It didn't last long, but it had been a long time coming.

A terrible sadness has been lurking beneath my consciousness for the past month, and it has slowly solidified its presence since graduation. But it's worse than a sadness, different. It's a sort of depression.

I've realized all too late that I had my heads in the cloud for the past year. How did I ever honestly think I could attend Emerson College (or even Emory University)? Even with the half-tuition scholarship Emerson gave me, total costs per year will be around $27,000, or $2,700 per month. Cue the silence. Why did I never before realize that is an insurmountable amount of money? In order to achieve an education at Emerson, I would be in debt for the rest of my life.

And the sad thing is, I'm still pretty clueless as to what I want to do. Emerson is pretty specific about its academic programs: it focuses on "the communications." Film, television, screenwriting, creative writing, publishing, marketing/advertising, journalism, pathology. At one point I was very interested in a lot of these fields. I still am. But then practicality weighs in. I can't make a career in hardly any of those. The safest bet is pathology. Screenwriting would make a great dream-job, sure, but no one's guaranteeing me a dream job. A bachelor's degree in screenwriting sure as hell ain't gonna pay off that giant wad of debt I would have by college graduation. Even pathology requires graduate school -- which means even more loans and debt.

So what's a boy to do?

In some sense, I feel angry that no one intervened with my silly dreams this year. I couldn't really expect much from my mother; she's been incredibly naive about the entire process. The only solid voice of truth and honesty I had this hear was that of my grandmother. At one point, she did tell me that the best thing to do would be to go somewhere local (i.e., AUM). That was the last thing I wanted to do. I told her no way, Jose. I had to get outta here, I said. I couldn't stay.

Ever since I can remember, I've had dreams of escaping Alabama. It used to be because I considered myself to hate Alabama, to hate the Southern culture. That's not true anymore. I don't hate Alabama, and I definitely do not hate the South. It's just a matter of change. I want to embark on that mythic "renewal," that chance to "start over" you hear so much about. I want(ed) to go to a big city where no one knew me, where I could pursue my dreams, fall in love, be successful.

Boston seemed to fit that bill. But I had never even heard of Emerson College until this year! And I went with it basically because of its film programs. Ugh.

I'm trying to remember when I figured all this out. I think somewhere deep down inside, common sense knew that Emerson was incredibly unpractical. But I didn't admit it until very recently.

So my options have become rather myopic. It's too late to apply to any of the big-time universities and colleges here in the state (where it seems I am destined to go to, at least for my freshman year). Technically, four visible options are open to me:

1.) Still go to Emerson. Deal with the debt later. (It is an option, after all.)

2.) Go to AUM. I could probably get a full-ride scholarship there. Even if I got nothing for the first year, $7,000 worth of debt for one year is something I could easily live with. Continue to live with my grandmother. Perhaps major in education.

3.) Go to Huntingdon College. This option is a little more shaky. Its costs are rather high (around $21,000 per year if I continue to live with my grandmother). However, I could probably get at least a half-tuition scholarship, although it might be too late in the game to be awarded any money at all for this next year. Even so, I feel confident that I could acquire a full-tuition scholarship by sophomore year. I would also probably choose an education path here. Maybe even major in history or English and pursue teacher certification. It's a possibility I'm dabbling with right now.

4.) Don't go to college at all for a semester or even a year. Work instead. Honestly, though, this would just be a means to further procrastinate decisions about the future. Although this is a possibility, I'm not really considering it.

I want to still believe I'm going to Boston, but the more I think about, the worse that choice seems. At first this whole realization made me incredibly sad--I would even go so far as to say "empty." I don't feel excited anymore either way. I just feel scared and angry and . . . sad.

I needed to write this entry to get my thoughts straight. All of my friends say that Boston is the right choice, but I feel 90% sure they're wrong. I think the best choice at this moment is Huntingdon. It's a college I would enjoy to an extent. It's affordable. The hardest part of this whole thing will be telling people who have been so excited for me that I'm no longer going to Boston--that I'm going somewhere local instead. Especially my aunt. My aunt will be slightly crestfallen. She'll undoubtedly understand, but still. . .

I'm disappointed, mainly because I screwed up all the chances I had of getting out of here. I should have taken my college applications more seriously. I should have applied to more schools, done more research. I should have applied to so many more scholarships. I should have asked for advice. But I can't change the past, unfortunately. I can only make do with what I have.

But it still hurts, and a big part of me wishes that I was still in high school, that this was just any other summer vacation, that the biggest thing I had to worry about was what to wear the first day back to school.

It's odd how a tiny minor event can sometimes cause such a deluge of reaction. Like the old saying of the "straw that broke the camels back," it's not usually big things that engender breakdowns and catharses: it's those "miniature disasters."

This is what happened: I had a hair appointment this evening, and earlier today I was trying to decide whether or not to reschedule it. I had the photography/art gallery opening to go to this evening, and I just really didn't feel like going to get my hair cut. So I called and canceled it, but then I changed my mind. So I called back and rescheduled for this evening. I get there, get my hair shampooed, all the normal stuff. I sit down in Brook's (the only person I trust to cut my hair) chair. Then the clerk tells me, after searching for her, that she must have left already. Apparently no one gave her the memo that I was still coming.

So some random guy cut my hair. He mistook my glances at the neighboring (male) hairstylist to be me "checking out" the girl whose hair he was cutting. So he swivels my chair around to "get a better look," as he put it. Then he goes on a rant telling me how lucky he is to be in a profession where he gets to be around beautiful women all day, after swiveling me around again, this time to face the mirror to get a better look "of all those gorgeous women" on the other side of the room.

Plus he didn't really know what he was doing to my hair. It doesn't look bad, but it doesn't look great, either. And I had looked forward to seeing Brook. I had a lot to catch up on with her.

For some reason that whole experience turned me into a total spaz. I got so frustrated about it at the art opening (which was crowded and noisy and hot, which didn't help). Cameron has to sit me down and command to chill. Amanda pretty much had to do the same thing. I wasn't crying-upset, just really annoyed and frustrated. I think the hair thing gave me an excuse for complaining. And I've felt like complaining a lot lately.

I don't know why I've gotten out of the habit of keeping this journal up. I just stopped, I guess.

Let me start where I left off:

My 18th birthday was quaint, which was exactly what I wanted. Usually I get all in a funk on my birthday (don't ask), but this year I spent the day eating lunch with friends (I got an Ariel cake and a giant Ariel balloon!) and afterwards playing putt-putt golf with them. Then in the evening my mom, my grandmother, and I ate dinner at Lek's. And to end it, my grandmother and I watched The Jungle Book (which was one of my presents). So all in all a nice birthday.

My grandmother's house truly feels like home now. I'm no longer so wistful and woebegone about leaving my mom's house. I am 100% sure it was the right decision. Friendships have grown because of it. Finances have eased because of it. My emotional welfare's security has increased exponentially. Mimi's been so kind and generous to let me live with her -- I know I've been a burden sometimes, especially with all the money she's had to pay for me. All in all, I've been incredibly fortunate this past year.

My relationship with my mom has stagnated, obviously. I see her maybe once every couple of weeks, and usually then only briefly. I love her and will always love her, but she has her flaws. Sometimes I wonder if she's a compulsive liar (I have caught her in the act of lying several times). I do believe she wants the best for me. Maybe she never fully matured after having me. I don't know. I can't really trust her, though, when it comes to important things. She's notorious for not doing them. I could go on and on about this, but I'm not going to. The bottom line is that I love my mother. I will miss her next year, but it won't be that radical seeing as I don't see her that much now anyway.

Next year...a terrify and exciting thing. I was accepted into Emerson, waitlisted for Emory. The acceptance made me incredibly happy...the waitlist letter very disappointed. Somewhere along the line I had come to believe that Emory was the place for me and that it was where I was going to go, point blank. Well, obviously not anymore. I've made up my mind to go to Emerson. Big transition, but I think it's the right choice.

As I mentioned earlier, my friendships have really gone stronger this year. I've met and become close friends with Cameron, for one. It's weird to think that this time last year Cameron and I didn't know each other. Likewise, I've become closer still to Amanda. Cameron has an inner bird, and I've helped liberate Amanda's inner black woman.

Last year I couldn't understand why the seniors became so incredibly apathetic about their schoolwork towards April and May. Now I completely understand. I'm finding it increasingly more and more difficult to concentrate on anything school-related. It all seems so pointless. The only class I don't mind is creative writing. Economics is a waste of the time most of the time. AP Lit...well, it's Mrs. Jones. She doesn't care about teaching. Sadistic witch. Or at least that's what she seems like most of the time.

So there about 5 weeks until the end of the year and graduation. The future isn't such a mysterious blank anymore. I'll be going to Emerson. I'm going to get a job this summer (I desperately need money).

I'm still scared about things, of course, but mostly I'm just really excited. And I will try to resume updating this as often as I can.