The wind really picked up and was blowing tree parts down...it was incredible! The girl in the picture lives in my apartment complex somewhere. I had a class with her last year, but I don't know her name.
Despite showing up for class 45 minutes late and not missing anything (stood outside for like 30 minutes waiting for the shuttle in the torrential downpour, trudged downstairs at school to print off my article for class, and goofed around for quite awhile before dragging myself off), not much interesting happened....at least class wise.
I didn't work until late, but killing time (and avoiding the sporadic pounding showers) I waited inside the building. The asian stalker guy approached me three times today, and a fourth time was avoided.
1. he asked how my valentine's day was. i told him pretty quiet. He told me his eyes hurt from playing video games for three hours straight. kevin, who was working, didn't realize this was my stalker at this point.
2. situation avoided by pretending to have a deep and intense conversation....about my shoes.
3. he approached me and asked when I got off work. It was around 3.30 at this point, and I was indeed not working. I said 10. He asked what time I got to work....I said 2, hoping that's around the time he first came around so he wouldn't ask why I was at work an hour early. He then offered me a job as his secretary. I said no, I don't do secretary jobs. "It's very intense," he assured me. I would need to sit on top of his piano while he played it. Kevin, who is completley and fully aware this guy is reaching top notch creeper status, is turned away trying to supress an outburst of laughter. That bastard. Despite my several assurances that no, I did not need that job and I had zero intentions of taking it, he finally left with I'm certain an amount of hope that I would indeed one day come back to him and say, please! Let me be the muse/eye candy to you as I inspire beautiful and melodious tunes from the keys you sit at.
4. He's leaving...thank goodness! In a large group of friends. However, walking out peacefully does not seem to be an option, and he serenades to me, direct eye contact, mind you, while he walks out. I don't know the poorly warbled song...I was too creeped out. I quickly turned around and slid down the countertop as soon as he passed by.
I need to learn how to lie better.
Oh yes, I had a terrific valentines day full of romance with my man, but we talked about his intense jealousy issues. he tends to beat up any guy that flirts with me, and gosh darnit, i tell him to stop, but i just think it's sooooo cute when he's all mad like that.
Ugh. Give me a break.
I got a ride home from Kevin...who pretty much lives in my apartment complex, I found out. His roommates are quite the crowd, and it turns out he doesn't mind tackling to the ground (even if the outcome was obvious before the fight began), and they have a Rowdy. He's a stuffed animal beagal named Puppy. He's so cute!
On a much sadder note, my mother called me today to tell me my Uncle Randy had died. He had gotten a staph infection in his foot and it wasn't caught before it went to his heart. Admittedly, I wasn't phased much when I first heard of his death....after all, I didn't know him much, and it had been a good seven years since I've seen him last. But I knew he had begun to get close with my mother over the past year or so, and as the night has gone on, I've become more and more disheartened at the news. At first, I only worried how my mother was coping, but I think she'll be fine. It wasn't until a very short moment ago when I remembered lyrics to a Fleetwood Mac song... "You should never have to bury your own babies." I never even thought of how my grandfather probably feels right now. At this age it almost seems like death and mortality are illusions -- it happens, but not to people I know, not around me. It's a massive shock when I hear of young people dying, but Uncle Randy was old, and he lived so far away. That was my first logic. Now, I'm becoming quite sad that I didn't befriend my own flesh and blood, and sadder thinking how much I still have to lose. Admittedly, most of my family isn't very close to me, and I rarely talk to them. Even within my own nuclear family, it's been months since I've spoken to my brother, and even the others I don't keep much contact with. Still, death is so unfathomable to me, so unfamiliar. It's like imagining a country by reading a book...you know facts, you know pictures, you've heard other's stories and outcomes and details...but until you visit that country (or in this case, I'm speaking more like know someone close who dies), it's still a foreign entity, a foreign idea, a foreign place.
People speak about when they were young, they thought they were invincible. Do I think I'm invincible right now? I've become more reckless since my teenage years, certainly, but invincible? I don't think so. But ask me again in 20 years...and I can't say I'll still agree.
40% chance of rain with a 20% chance of creepers tomorrow? Possibly.
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