Having to deal with Hell Class from last semester, there were some friendships forged that would not otherwise have become friendships. I truly believe had it not been for the shared experience of that class, we all would have passed through each other’s lifes briefly and quickly and that would have been that.

The relationship I had with the boy (now the ex boy I suppose to keep things easy to understand for those following along) was left on the backburner. It had always been less significant for him (at least that’s how it felt to me) than it ever was for me. However, when it came to school and making things awkward or not awkward for those around us, I chose the not awkward route. I had my friends with whom I confided the sordid details of the final days of the relationship, but I kept it out of the public when it came to the people at school. I have a feeling that the assumption was that the ex-boy and I were together, but that very few people knew the actual status of the kind of relationship he and I shared. That was his request. I wasn’t ashamed of him, or scared of people knowing. But for him, however, it was all about “school is school and outside of school is outside of school.” They were different worlds in his mind and I respected that, even though I didn’t fully understand it.

Today was the first time anyone who has known the two of us, asked a question. Not just any question, but the question.

Friend 1: So, I have a question for you?
Me: Sure, what’s up?
Friend 1: So you and the ex-boy, you guys aren’t together are you?
Me: Oh no.
Friend 1: So you guys were never together?
Me: Oh we were, but that ended in November.
Friend 1 and 2: Oh!

And then came the questions and the quick rundown of what happened and the reasons why I ended things.

I explained to Friend 2 that I didn’t want things to be weird, or awkward for anyone so I left people out of it. After Friend 1 took off to meet her roommate, I walked with Friend 2 most of the way to her car and I explained some more of it.

While I often focus on a lot of the trivial nonsense: his lack of a job for 90% of our relationship, his scruffy hair, his inability to understand the “geek” side of me, etc. it really came down to much more than that. Something more fundamental. He simply didn’t respect me. I started to notice those negative traits he adopted from his roommates and thus turned them on me much earlier. However, the kind of relationship I had with the ex-boy versus the ex were totally different. It was almost easier to deal with the downright cheating the ex did over what the ex-boy did. It’s hard to decide when the time to walk away is. How much abuse do you continue to take when it’s inadvertent and masked by showers of admiration and attention? How can I be the “best girlfriend ever” and yet be the butt of your jokes when we’re out with your roommate?

It was those things that I couldn’t take anymore. The “show of power.” I miss aspects of that relationship, but for the most part I don’t miss the ex-boy at all. I definitely don’t miss the drama that went along with him, nor the drunken accusations, or any of the many other negative things that relationship produced.

No. There’s a clear line that has been created between his side of the room and mine. He respects that line, and it’s better that way… for both of us. It just seems weird to me that no matter how hard I try to keep things under wraps, there’s someone who is more observant than they let on. And they’re willing to ask the question no one else was.

I realize that a lot of my frustration lies in the fact that I didn’t want to stick around Sac State for another semester and am currently attempting to take 18 units. Which considering the way the last 3 semesters have gone (minus hell class) it shouldn’t have been that bad. Too bad they’re ALL reading intensive classes. We’ll see how well I fare.

While it’s pretty late right this second, I’ve got most of my paper outlined and I’m just wasting a bit of time before getting all of the writing done. It will be done tonight before going to bed. Hopefully. *crosses fingers*

I mentioned on Plurk (and other social networking sites) how I needed to use my blogs more. Actually blog. I’ve gotten so used to the interaction of how Plurk works that I forget entirely the actual act of writing something other than a single sentence or two. The hope is that once I’ve caught up on all of reading, I can a) go out and socialize for more than an hour or two and b) I might be able to concentrate on doing some writing.Though at this point, crochet and knitting have been postponed as well. Which is even more sad since I joined Woolgirl‘s Sock Club and should be expecting the first shipment in upcoming weeks (about 3-ish).

*heavy sigh* And now I shall go back to the paper writing. Wish me luck.

There’s a certain perception of people when you’re in class. I know that I have put myself into significant amounts of debt in order to be in school. Not everyone is in my boat. This is just part of the course of life. I had to struggle to get there. I had to deal with many ups, but mostly downs. I’ve had help from strangers, and help from friends. My father has helped me in more ways than I could ever count. So when I’m sitting in class, I’m there for a purpose… to learn. I’m not there to listen to the two stupid blonde girls chattering away as though they were at a baseball game (the one’s I’ve often shushed). I’m not there to listen to people whisper loudly in the middle of something a professor has just announced will be on a test/exam.I’m there to listen, and learn. Most… however… don’t understand this.

This semester has broken many molds. There are those who I wrote off as retarded, insignificant, annoying and any other negative term I could possibly imagine. And I’ve become friends with many of them. This Psychology 101 class has brought a group of people together that would not otherwise have been friends. I know this for a fact. We vary so much in age. We vary in background, previous education that led us to being in this class… but mostly, the proximity of our lab has yielded me some of the best friends I’m likely to make while in college.

The big plan next thursday after class… we’re all getting drinks. Together. As a whole unit. Because we endured. We made it through, by the skin of our teeth, but we made it through. All the tears, the sweat, the frustration and the annoyances will bring us to the same place. People I would never have sat with in a bar, I will sit with. We will all toast to the end and the finality of the semester. The hell we’ve all endured will be over. We became a family, that small group of us. We had a common bond, but it was more than that. It was the intimacy. The humor. The laughter we shared.

There is no better feeling in the world, than to find friends in people who previously annoyed the living shit out of you. I am one who LOVES and relishes in the fact that I can be wrong. And I was.

I will miss all of these people greatly… but come Thursday… we’re getting drunk!

Yeah, I prayed and HOPED that Dreamhost could fix my epic failure attempt at upgrading.

So as I look and see this pink line across the top of my screen I want to flip it off and yell “FUCK YOU SQUIRREL!” to the Upgrade message. I’m terrified to do it again. TERRIFIED. Can I stress this a little bit more… I mean, unbelivably, unequivacably scared out of my fuckin’ mind of losing my blog… again. It’s not that I have all these great entries. Or that I have the most amazing layout known to man. But it’s mine and I want it.

So I’m SUPER happy that Dreamhost was able to fix it. And I’m super happy that I was so busy for the last couple of week that I hadn’t updated, there were no new comments or anything of the sort, because it gave that poor guy who got my email a chance to pull up a working back up and fix what the wordpress upgrade screwed up.

Wanna know what’s funny? I went to WP, to see if other people had issues. I wasn’t the only one. It may not have gone the same, but people were losing the ability to login with their admin passwords, and things just weren’t right. Fuck that stupid pink bar, I’ll leave it there until the next one comes out.

BTW, my favorite class is EDS 151 – American Sign Language 1. My least favorite class is everything else.

I came home and with some help from a friend, got through some of the rough spots of the paper. Trudged through it, and at about 3:15 am, I had it printed, stapled and packed away safely in my backpack (so as to NOT forget it once I left the house). Set the alarm and passed out. I woke up with my phone (aka my alarm) in my hand, under the pillow.

Wanna know what time I woke up in the morning? 8:15am.
Wanna know how long my commute to school is? Most days, just over an hour.
Wanna know what time I was supposed to be in class? Yeah, 9am.

Even if I didn’t bother to change my clothes, brush my teeth, feed the cat, or have my “I just woke up” pee, I still wouldn’t have made it to school in time. So I didn’t rush it. I just got ready and took off.

The boy, on the other hand, is starting to drive me to the brink of insanity. I’ve been wanting to write about it. Bits of our conversation, in an attempt to at least (in part) understand what in the hell is going on. But it doesn’t make any sense. He makes little comments, here and there. Many other instances. I’ve also taken my estalking to a whole new level. He told me about his ex, and how he’s been feeling rather depressed because after everything she did to him… after all of the hell she put him through… and he forwarded the email exchange between the two of them.

I had her email. I looked it up on myspace. I found her. Her profile is private, so I searched for a way to see her pictures anyway. I saw pictures of the babies when he hasn’t. I saw a picture of her. I feel somewhat guilty in this, because even if as time passes we only become better friends, closer friends, and it never becomes anything more than that… I will have to carry this around with me… It will always remain a secret that I have, that he can never know.

The internet is not safe. While I know that even writing about it, there’s a chance that he might be able to stumble across it. But I have faith in his lack of computer knowledge and internet saavy, that he will likely never find any of this, unless I tell him. Once I post this, I know that I will never tell him. Ever.

It gets easier, every day. Though I know that I still care very deeply for him, and wish that our circumstances could’ve been different. I wish that we had met at a different point in both of our lives. My obsessive tendency will likely mean that as hard as the road will be, and as much debt as I will probably put myself into, after grad school, I’ll be moving away from here. Anywhere. But I will not stick around. Best case scenario, I’ll be around for another 3 years before looking for employment somewhere other than here, and possibly a PhD program. Best case scenario, I can finally move abroad, to the UK, and pursue my education there.

Either way, my goals in life will inevitably take me away from him. As much as I want him right now.

He doesn’t make this easy for me. He doesn’t make it easy for me to slowly let go either. I want desperately to be on the back of his motorcycle, holding onto him tightly as we just go… no particular direction… just going. I want desperately to just… touch him.

No matter what I do… I can’t seem to shake all of the feelings I have for him… or release my sheer desire of him.