Is this what you call tact? I never asked for your opinion. I just got it, and I get it. Nice to know you. Goodbye.

So I've made a list of everything I could think to post on. Here we go.

I didn't need a real job over the summer because I have lots of things to do sporadically throughout these months. I would have to ask for so much time off, it wouldn't be fair to my employer and blah blah. So I applied at Randstad, a temp service. One of the main ladies who runs it in my town is really good friends with my mom, so she called me first when there was an opening I might want. Two days after filling out all the paperwork, she called with a position open at C&S Plastics. It was a legit manufacturing, on your feet for eight hours, shift working job. I said why not. Bad idea. I was only there a Thursday and Friday. They wanted me to come back the next week, but I told them I had lots of school transferring stuff going on. I actually had a concert, appointment to get new tires, Lipscomb transfer reception, and something else going on that upcoming week. Anyway, it was eye-opening for sure. Not something I want to do ever again and definitely not something I could do for the rest of my life. The only reason I made it through was because I knew I didn't have to go back. I thank God for education and my parents who put me through school. The place makes car parts through injection molding. These huge 30-foot machines suck in resin pellets from huge gazillion gallon tubs, force them into a mold, heat it, and spit it out for me to inspect and package. Bleh. I made glove compartments for some Nissan car and defrost vents that are at the bottom of windshields for who knows what kind of vehicle. The people were the most interesting/best part, though it isn't hard to out-do that kind of work. No one knew I was a temp, so they kept asking me how I liked it "so far". I set everyone straight as quickly as I could. One lady told me I was too pretty to be there and needed to stay in school. One guy talked to me about masks and grills because the car parts we were each working on looked like them (mine a mouth "grill" and his a face mask). Second shift, 3-11. Death. No air conditioning. Just huge fans blowing hot air. It really wasn't bad, but it makes it sound worse. Two other guys argued about whose "baby" I was. Woot! I love me some greasy 39 year old men. Nothing against older guys. Nothing at all. But everything against these older guys. One lady was working overtime and passed the time by juggling spray cans she had to use on something.  Tractor trailer trucks loaded and delivered throughout my shift, so the dock doors stayed open. I kept looking for deer because the building was surrounded by fields. I never saw one, but it kept me going.  I was a lot more passionate about writing this blog at the time, but now I'll just stop.

I saw this morning that Brandon has a new gal. Sweet. Screw him. The last thing he said to me was "Thinking about coming to see you makes me sad," and "I'm sorry, but I miss my friends. I didn't realize it was even an issue." Apparently he's found some happy medium. He doesn't lie, but he wants so badly not to hurt anyone's feelings that he isn't always straight up with people either. We are officially done for good. I've said that like three times before but this is the first time I've actually meant it. I never could remember why we broke up, so we'd get back together as naive as ever. I know why now. I know what bothers me about him. I know what he does that isn't okay in anyone's book. I'll remember even if he doesn't. It feels good in a way but sucks in another. We didn't get to see each other that much, but I could call him 24/7 because I just wanted to hear someone on the other end of the phone. All friends say you can call anytime, but they're expecting you to only take advantage of that when there's an emergency. I feel like I really only have two people who I could call just to be blah with at 2AM, and truly I would only bother one of those people. Armandi. =) Shout out! Haha anyway...Brandon's a poopface because his backbone is quite weak and his heart is picky about when it wants to care for certain people. Immature actually. Not in his daily actions but in his dealings with tough situations. Shesh. He's pretty. But not pretty enough. I think of all our time together as almost a waste. A waste in most ways. Like 80% of the ways. But experience is never a complete waste, and at least I was happy though most of it. Hmm. Life is poop, too.

Lately I've felt really blah. I only have two real girl friends that I consider to be really important to me. Both have boyfriends and are really busy with their own lives. I haven't had a girls' night since junior year of high school. It's been about two and a half years. Thinks aren't as simple anymore. We'd talk about guys and be all giddy. I never get that way anymore. I feel like the guys I'd want to date are past that point, so I am, too. Yet somehow I'm still meeting guys who are scared to talk on the phone and prefer texting. Grow the eff up. I'm like the easiest person to talk to. Of all time. Ever. If you'll just call, I'll do all the talking. Promise. But whatever. They don't last long. I have lots of guy friends. Well, lots in comparison to girls. And plenty in general. I was always afraid I'd never have guy friends. We'd be together or we wouldn't talk. But that isn't the case now. And it isn't like I've slipped into the friend zone with everyone, and I'm worried about it. I love my guy friends. Part of the problem is that they're not exactly from around here. Massachusetts. Michigan. South Carolina. And until recently, though I think things shall be resolved, Indiana. As far from me as they can get. It's annoying. Like lots of loooong-distance relationships. It's hard for me to live through phone calls. Not only that, I went to school with the South Carolina kid last year. Since I'm changing schools, he won't be anywhere near me now. Poop poop poop.

They always say you find a boyfriend when you stop looking. I'm not even sure if I'm looking. I know I feel like I want one. I know I don't realistically need one. I'm not into "dating." I like relationships. Relationships that last until marriage, maybe? I knew the chances of that happening with Brandon were slim, but lots of people meet their life partners in college. It's all about timing. And Brandon had bad timing. And I told him that from day one. And now I know not to jump into marriage. Had he come along at a later date, we would've been married long before the two and a half years we saw and didn't see each other ended. So maybe his timing wasn't so bad for that reason. Goodness knows we couldn't be married. I want someone to call mine, but I don't need that someone for a while. I'm not getting married until I and my boyfriend are completely self-supported. There won't be any talk of "we can afford this house if we put our money together!" Nooooo. If I can't afford it on my own or you can't afford it on your own, this deal isn't happening. I've been in a household of financially dependent relationships since I was six. I don't think my plans are selfish. I look out for myself. It's the self-respecting thing to do, and I'll never apologize for it. Money causes enough problems. I'm not going to live my life asking if I can spend a couple hundred dollars on something. Of course I can. It's my money. I don't expect to make decisions that are going to hurt my relationship and/or family, so if I feel I can spend that money without it resting on my conscience for whatever reason, I will. How did I get on this? I need to pray more. 

I went Memphis to visit Tim/South Carolina kid. He's there doing summer research at UofM. Matthew called while I was there. He was in a wreck. He had an appointment at a hand doctor Monday in Nashville. He was planning to take a cab. He couldn't so much as write because his hands were bandaged so tightly. They had been burned and cut during the hit-and-run. I told him I'd leave from Memphis friday and come see him at Lipscomb. (He's in summer school.) Then I'd stay at a friend's apartment half an hour away in Murfreesboro, and come back to pick him up monday morning and take him to his appointment. I couldn't stay with him because girls aren't allowed in guys' dorms. Not even for a second. Anyway. We did that. It was fun. We couldn't figure out where we were supposed to go and ended up in Labor and Delivery. Woot! We finally found the doctor, and I began filling out a mountain of paperwork for him. To think I talked to this guys approximately twice outside of class in high school. Most of that was due to his then Nazi girlfriend but still. I don't think he gets me, yet. He doesn't understand how anyone can do so much for someone they know so little about. We don't talk about it, but it confuses him. We'll learn a lot from each other.

Why do famous guys always get the "pretty" girls? "Pretty" being the supposed definition of the word. Because those girls want the famous guys. But famous guys are usually jerks or Brandons...perfect until they find something they see as better. I'd say there are a lot of "average" guys who are a lot closer to perfection than celebrities. Girls are the problem. Girls and their jaded senses of realness. Girls and their wants to be APPEAR impressive. Yes, I envy girls who seem to have everything. But sometimes I feel like people could see me as one of those girls, and while there is a lot of good in my life, it's far from perfect and/or enviable in most cases. So when I envy girls for a second, I almost instantly feel sorry for them. Things aren't as great as they appear. No one's life is perfect, and sometimes it seems like there isn't anything to aspire to. There are so many random occurrences that life can't possibly be controlled. The little we can actually do to keep ourselves happy relies on so much more that we can't guarantee. What a mess, right? Bad things happen to good people. I've always thought that was how life worked. I told Momma that one day at least five years ago, and she tried to correct me. It's such a negative outlook, but I still believe it. It's not as negative as it seems. A lot is left out, but I consider it true. A lot like bad things happen to everyone, but to good people as well. Life seems great and something bad happens. People always say that, and it's true. It's the same thing. 

I've done many things that people would typically congratulate someone for. I'm ending all kinds of sentences in prepositions today. Forgive me. Graduating high school and all that normal stuff. I don't believe those are impressive things for me to do. I think they deserved a "good job!" and that's about it. They weren't hard for me. I enjoyed them, whatever "achievements" they may be. I really don't feel proud of myself for much of anything other than some personal decisions. People who hated all twelve years of school. People who weren't motivated by family at home. People who had no friends. People who took remedial classes and finally passed algebra two second semester senior year. Those are people who need all the graduation money in the world. They had to work for something that comes fairly easily to most. Those people accomplished more than I did with my 3.97 GPA and college and AP credits. Those people who made themselves get up every morning only to be made to feel below average until they got back to their bed that night. This isn't to say that anyone who barely got into community college has my utmost respect, but some definitely do. Moreso than some kids I know who breeze through DiffEQ second semester freshman year. I've never EVER been forced or required to be unhappy. If that was my life for twelve years, I wouldn't make it. No way. Impossible. I can only handle doing things that I'm good at AND enjoy. If either one of those characteristics is missing, it's a crapshot. I'm not seeing it through, and I can promise that. Granted I don't enjoy most things if they're hard for me and vice versa. 

New topic I just thought of. I'm going to be really sad if any of my guy friends get girlfriends/boyfriends. There are reasons, but they don't really matter. I'll still be sad. And that's that.

So my school situation is pretty annoying at the moment. I was sure I was going to Lipscomb, and it was going to be cheaper than Clemson. I was surprised being a private Christian school, but it was somehow. But then I realized that in all my figuring, I only calculated in one semester's cost of my room and meal plan. After fixing that it brought my total up almost $4000 to about that of Clemson had I stayed this year, with tuition increases and all. I haven't told Daddy yet. I'm hoping Mrs. Sylvia can find me more money somewhere. It's sickening. It's been over a month now. I'm not going to UTK. Nope. Nope. Nope. So if not Lipscomb, I'll go to Motlow for one semester or one year and then transfer to Lipscomb. I'm not sure how coming mid-year would work. But it may come down to that.

Our car insurance is supposed to be renewed next month. We got a letter in the mail saying the company won't renew it because of my "wreck," so Daddy had to find another company. My car cost exactly $0 to fix. The other guy I supposedly touched (I'm not so convinced I did because I never felt it. He just started blowing his horn, so I pulled over) claimed it cost $1300 to fix his car. Right. Two surface scratches the length of my finger cost $1300. Thanks retired Army General. Your lie cancelled my insurance. Luckily my judge at court was awesome and Daddy found a company that's even cheaper. It couldn't come at a better time with school prices going up and whatnot. And now we're going to have the money drafted out of the checking account every month instead of paying cash every six months, so when school payments start if I do end up at Lipscomb, Daddy won't have to pay $700 something dollars. It'll only be like $115. Everything always seems to work out but just barely and just at the last possible moment. Daddy doesn't handle stress well, so I'm hoping I can get things worked out a little better and pop the news on him when it won't be so severe. Of course the longer I wait to tell him, the sooner the payment days will be when he finds out, which adds to his stress. Yay. 

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I think I'll stop for today.

Matthew's Hands...just so you know..

He doesn't have movement in his pointer and middle fingers on his right hand because whatever cut his hand cut his tendons. He has surgery friday.