Change Is In The Air.

There’s a lot swirling through my mind. I kind of wish I could have been able to type while I was on vacation. A lot of fantastic through ran through my mind. I documented as much as I could in my journal. But so many other things, the odd querks between my dad and I, lost to a memory that can’t remember that many things.

I got him to say that he doesn’t think guys should have long hair because they look like “girly men”. I repeated his phrase and rested my case.

I get offended when I’m told “try getting a job” as a way to curb my odd behavior or looks. I’ve consistently tried to prove people wrong when I’m told you can’t do it that way, you have to be this way. I hate being told, “You’ll change”, as if I’m ignorant and refuse to change. No shit, I’ll change. I’m aware of that more than anybody else.

I hate when people tell me things I already know I need to do, but don’t particularly want to do. “You shave, you get job”, my Grandma says. She’s old, so it’s almost cute. Cut my hair? My dad and my Grandma are lost in a generation that accepted how things were and tried to fit in, as opposed to looking at how things are and trying to make things better. And yet my dad’s somehow a liberal, hard to figure that one out.

I hated the implication that liking Indian food was a sign of maturity. Oh, nobody would ever say it. And maybe it’s just my brain misreading things. But goddamn it, I just don’t like my Grandma’s cooking. I don’t really care if chicken tikka is a british invention. It just goes to show that genuine Indian food is not to my tastes at all. I spent the week living off of bologna, turkey, and cheese sandwiches. Hardly my usual meal.

I had my first forty dollar steak. I’ve never really had good steak before. And let me tell you, that was some good steak. Food. Fantastic. It was the way it should be. Medium. Pink, but not bloody. Perfect texture. Full of flavor, but not overpowering. A flavor I’d never tasted before. What kills me is that I finished it, and then put a huge dent in some fourteen dollar cheesecake. Mmmm! That was some fantastic cheesecake.

I love the Twin Cities.

My dad was pulled over while driving my Aunt to work. The story told to me was that he was let go because he wasn’t from the area.

I paused when I heard this. If I’m not mistaken, that’s the exact opposite of New Jersey. If you’re pulled over in your own town, you’re more likely to be let go than somebody who’s from a different town. Gita said that if you’re from St. Paul, you should know better, so people who aren’t around there will be let go.

Fascinating.

I was reminded of Elena constantly. I have walked to her house from my Grandma’s. I relented in seeking her out.

One evening I watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with my dad. One of the few movies I knew wouldn’t be too ackward. He loved it. Another evening, we played pool. And another evening we bowled nine games in a row. My body only stopped aching today.

My Aunt is selling her house. My dad thinks she could have gotten more money for it. He’s using phrases like, “She’ll learn from her mistakes.” I don’t see how owning a less-than-perfect home, living in it, enjoying it, fixing it up a bit, and then selling it for more money constitutes a mistake. And people wonder why I say he’s the reason I am the way I am. He’s constantly filled with regret and doubt. Constantly asking how much things cost. Wondering whether he could have done better things in the past.

But all of this is just random niceities. I present to you Exhibit A:

Emily had been in Nashville with her family for the past week. She managed to come back a few days earlier than them. As in, she flew in Saturday afternoon. So Saturday evening, she picked me up and brought me to her humble dwelling. I’ve met Sarah before, splended girl to kill a few brain cells with. Emily had to let a Dyke drink with us, because she watched some of her rats. If she looks like a dyke, acts like a dyke, and calls herself a dyke, well, she’s a Dyke. That’s the last you’ll hear of Kayla.

I had my mighty list of alcohol that Erik and Liz made for me. With this wisdom in mind, I purchased some Bacardi 151, a chaser for me, and some beer for the ladies. Hey, my normal drinking buddies are underage anyway. *laughs*

Quick inspection made me realize the namesake. “Oh. 151 proof. That’s pretty strong.” I was actually nervous doing my first shot. It’s a little step up from 100 proof vodka. Emily told me to have a chaser ready. I never really understood the point of a chaser until then. 151 has the normal burn which I’m used to. ..Then an afterburn which feels like a vat of mexican food has been greased onto your throat. *laughs*

There’s a reason why I never drank in college. Because I didn’t trust the people I was with. Two shots in, Emily told me to hold off until 12:30. A half an hour later, I ended up thanking her perfusely.

Emily was able to get rid of the Dyke, though with some hesitation. It bothers me when people think they can drive even though they’re intoxicated. Even if it’s just a little bit. I’m willing to take chances, but that’s not worth it. That’s not worth effecting somebody else’s life.

At that point, I had a pretty good buzz. And then came the moment of truth. Sarah and Emily offered me pot. I said yes. : D

It was something I considered a few months ago. Why do I get on my high horse and look down on people? How dare I. What is so bad about pot, anyway? I’ve been told it’s not that addictive. I’ve had Erik tell me that it didn’t do anything to him. (Though, I’ve since concluded he had bad weed with Justine and her parents.) I’ve been told alcohol is worse. Which is a valid point, though I obviously wouldn’t trust someone to drive high anymore than to drive drunk. I just believe DARE and drug education is more brainwashing than anything. I couldn’t tell you the first thing about what “drugs” are. The War On Drugs is a contradition as we tell people what they can’t do in their spare time, then shove placating pills to them and their children.

I just decided that if the opportunity came up, I’d get my feet wet. I don’t want to be a pothead anymore than I want to be an alcoholic. Though, Al and Mary are great companions. I jest.

Emily lit her bowl for me. What scared me more than anything was the simple fact that I was inhaling smoke. I hate smoke! *laughs* I inhaled (unlike Clinton) and held it for a few seconds. It wasn’t overpowering, but I could feel it. Instantly. The second hit was the strongest one. I had a third hit later after Sarah went to sleep on her parent’s bed. And, for anyone keeping count, I also had a hit last night when I saw Emily.

So. Pot. Hi.

It’s the cascade effect I always feared. I feared trying things. I feared I’d start one thing and lose all sense of morality. Morality? Nah, that’s not morality. That was me being afraid of what people would think. I used to be the goodie-goodie. I used to be the clean one. I used to be the one that hadn’t done anything, as if it was something to brag about. Now that I have that rod out of my ass, I’m free to bend over and let life give it to me. *laughs* Far better than the rut I was in.

I’m anxious about school starting. Along with my age ticker finally clicking over to twenty-two (goddamn, it’s been a long year), I have a fresh start. A new beginning. Last December, I wondered what the hell would happen. I couldn’t foresee anything. And yet so much happened. I feel a bit more focused. I have my goals. It’s just me. No crazy voices telling me I can’t do it.

There’s more.

I feel a splintering with my friends. No, nobody’s out to get me, nobody’s really mad at me. I mean the group as a whole. I’ve been feeling it fracture. I don’t think the four of us will ever be the same. Really, the issues between Dan and Cliff have been there, it just took a girl to bring it out. It’s my understanding that Liz and Cliff have acted upon, in some manner, their mutual interest. I have to say, Dan was the one that kept saying her and Liz would never work.

A girl. Triangles are horrible shapes.

I want to be switzerland. I want everyone to be happy and get along. I’ve seen what’s happened recently when Dan and Liz are around each other. It isn’t pretty. I want to smack them and tell them to get along, but it isn’t that simple. I want to reach out to Dan, but I also don’t want to completely ignore Liz. I’m thinking my best bet is to just stay out of everybody’s way. Flat-out avoid group gatherings. I’m going to take Cliff out tomorrow morning to eat some hot dogs at Johnny’s. He hasn’t had his weiners this summer! Or his Birch Beer!

I suddenly don’t want to organize anything for my birthday. I don’t want to bring these people I care about together and watch them squabble and gossip. Or I could just have an open invitation to finish off a crave case and let shit happen. I worry. Oh, I worry.

Part of me wonders if it’s time to find new friends. Not to abandon Cliff or anybody, but.. Well. It’s been a while. I could use a new hang-out buddy. Or a new friend to talk about things with. And I know I’ll always meet new friends online every couple of months (or days), but you know I’m much more content when I have actual contact with people. (“You know”, as if I’m talking to somebody specific that does, in fact, know. I’m amused.)

Emily drives a Ford Tempo. It reeks of cigarette smoke, has querky bumper stickers, and you can hear it when it pulls onto your street. She named her Trouble, and that car has some personality. She was blasting music while driving with me, and the emotional associations with those songs are fantastic…

I breath the transition in the air, with me, with everything. Speaking of which…

A long time ago, I once promised myself I’d never grow a beard. As such, I’ve decided to go completely against myself. (Thus is the linchpin of my current philosophy.) We’ll see what happens.. This Winter. ….On Timmy™!