Beeeeezy (OR: I've got to admit...)

Finally. The upswing. It's been slow in coming, but I think the time is finally here. I've gained a little forward momentum in my life and stuff is starting to shape up.

For those of you not keeping tabs on everything I do (which is to say, those of you who have a life), a brief explanation of stuff since the speeding ticket blog.

As far as I can tell, I'm gonna stay on the insurance, much to my relief. Admittedly, I was panicking just a tad, but my concern was over the consequences of losing it as opposed to the actual dropping itself. Still, I'm driving, albeit for a few hundred bucks more.

Currently, I'm working two jobs, though I'm still a cook in both. I'd forgotten about the applications I put it while on the winding journey to employment, and had no pressing need for reminder. But Monday, whilst on the can...alright, there is such a thing as overpersonal blogging...I get a call from Movie Tavern. Can I come in for an interview?

Why not? At worst, I find out it's shittier than what I have, and I politely decline. Turns out, they need tons of help, and I was actually given a little extra in order to leave BDub's. As small as it sounds, it feels kind of cool to feel like you're needed that much.

I've since worked a full three days, and I'm quickly growing fond of my job. Not to say I'm gonna miss BW3's. Au contrare! Saturday morning...who'd a thought Saturday morning? ...made me miss it before I'd even left. We got the ga-hetoo musik blastin' and had ourselves a bitchin' good time. On the clock.

I finally did what I'd been talking about doing since summer began: I actually got to seeing people from Western. People here mostly meaning one Miss Hanna Goetz, but also included in the Big 71 Tour were Rachel, Adam, Christie and Erica. As always, good times and funanigans (that's a portmanteau of fun and shenanigans for our slower readers) were had. It certainly help speed up the process of getting the damned summer over with.

All in all, I'd say the summer of 2007 has been a bit of a bummer. No one I know's really had much of a good time, what with the introduction of serious responsibility. But can we not have, like, a week or two of unbridled joy and delight?

Like a Cubs fan in September: Wait till next year.

My Biggest Screwup (OR: What now?)

These words are coming from a young man who's scared, who's dreading whatever it is that is about to come down. I could've seen this coming and yet I chose to go on. I've scared the hell out of myself and I know it's only going to get worse.

Basically: I got pulled over by a cop in Madison County. This isn't horrible. Bad, inconvenient, yes. And why was I in Madison County? I know about as well as you do. Did I mention that my license isn't in my wallet? He was able to look up my information, thank god. But that really, really won't help matters.

At one point, he asked to search the car. Few people have ever seen me when my nerves are completely frayed. I'm skittish, I stammer, I'm a like Michael J. Fox on a caffeine drip. And naturally, he's bound to wonder why I'm so skittish over a traffic ticket.
Simply, you have to realize this, and that's where things go sour: I already have a citation on my record, the accident I had back in November of my senior year. Combined with this, that without a doubt means that I'm off the family auto insurance.

This means I can't drive.

This will mean plenty: what, I don't know. I'm begging and pleading that I can still go to King's Island next week. Past that, my social is about to die. I'm nervous, beyond that...I've just screwed up an already fragile future for myself, and all for a nice little "relaxing trip."

I should have gone to Erin's.

What exactly will happen, I don't know. I'm waiting to break the news. But I know that it will be miserable, it will be painful, it may absolutely break me.

In other words, the shit is about to hit the fan.

Kersplat.

[So, it's right after midnight and the news was broken a few hours ago. It wasn't horrible, at least not as bad as I was anticipating. I was expecting some decibel increasage, and whatnot, but none. It was more the generally depressing form of total disappointment. More my dad's style, really. The yelling on this one will come.

As for me, I was practically banging my head in Potter Puppet Pal fashion, muttering "angst! Angst!" the entire evening. Not a fun sight.]

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