Strep!?!

I'm not sure how an otherwise healthy adult who doesn't know anybody with strep throat gets it in May, especially since I haven't been around a single person with strep that I know of, but somehow I have. So I've been kind of sick for the last week. I played with my friend's baby last Monday, and the baby had a bad cold and ear infection. So then when I developed a sore throat later that evening, I blamed it on playing with a sick baby. (Don't worry; the baby had already been to a doctor and didn't have strep and her mom was giving her medicine.) But my sore throat got really terrible, and I was taking a hefty combination of cold pills (the really good kind that they have to scan your driver's license before they let you have it so they can keep track of you and make sure you're not making meth) and pain pills (I like the acetaminophen/aspirin/caffeine combo). But I honestly was starting to be afraid that I might accidentally take too much acetaminophen. You can actually overdose on acetaminophen. That's why all the pill boxes say not to combine them with any other pills containing acetaminophen. It will destroy your liver. (Good thing I don't drink.) So I looked around online and figured that my dosages were still safe. I read an article about a girl who had a severe migraine and took fourteen Tylenols and died. But I figured I was still okay because I was taking between eight and twelve pills per day, and definitely not at the same time. Still, I knew it couldn't be good for my body to have all that stuff in there. But the pain in my throat, especially whenever I had to swallow, was tremendous. So I took more and more pills.

But the sore throat just kept getting worse. I didn't know what the deal was. My ears were hurting pretty badly, too, especially when I swallowed. But I didn't want to go to a doctor because I figured it was just a nasty cold virus, and there's nothing they can do about that. Antibiotics will do absolutely no good if you have a virus. They can actually make things worse in the long run because overuse or inappropriate use of antibiotics just innoculates the bacteria and makes them medically resistant. Plus, I can't really afford to pay for a doctor's visit. While I did just finally get enrolled for health insurance, they haven't given me any cards or anything, and even if it was covered it would still just go against my deductible so I'd still have to pay the full cost.

It didn't help that I worked every day this last week, Monday through Saturday. (I don't work Sundays for religious reasons.) I actually wasn't scheduled all of those days, but I took some extra shifts on my days off to get some more money. So I had no time to let my body rest and recuperate. So Saturday I was at work, just suffering. The pills weren't really working. I bought some Chloraseptic strips that you put in the back of your mouth and they're supposed to numb your throat. But no matter how far back in my throat I stuck the things, all I ever ended up with was a numb tongue and the same searing pain in my throat. And even the numbness of the tongue would only last about three minutes, not the two hours it said it was supposed to. I decided that if things weren't better by Monday I'd shell out the money and go to a doctor, but by the time work was over on Saturday I just couldn't stand it anymore. There was an urgent care clinic in Owatonna, and I decided to stop there on the way home from work. But then I couldn't find the place. I was in a lot of pain and had a pounding headache and was feeling somewhat nauseaus, so finally I just went home. But I felt like I really needed to see a doctor, so I asked my dad to drive me to the urgent care clinic. So he drove me back to Owatonna, and we still couldn't find the place. So I called my mom, who called the clinic, and it turns out they were at the place I had originally gone to myself except they they didn't have any signs or anything and the area was under construction so I had no way to know where it was.

So we go in there about fifteen minutes before the place closes for the evening. I explained to the doctor what was going on. I said I thought it was just a virus, but that it was really painful. I also said I wasn't sure it was strep because I'd looked in the back of my mouth as best I could and didn't see any white spots among the red, swollen stuff, which I'd read was the telltale sign. But my mouth cavern was kind of dark so it was hard to tell. The doctor said that it was probably a viral infection, but also that not all strep cases cause the white spots. So she swabbed the back of my throat and did a rapid strep test, which in a few minutes came back negative. So she said it was probably just a nasty virus that they couldn't do anything for, and that it would probably stick around for a few more days and then go away. She said that there was so much fluid buildup in my sinuses and behind my eardrums that it was making it difficult for it to drain out and get out of my system, so she just recommended trying some allergy pills.

So I figured that had all been a waste of time and money. (Still waiting for the bill.) All they'd done was tell me what I pretty much already knew and couldn't do anything for me. Well then when I woke up on Sunday my nose was horribly runny and stuffy, which it really hadn't been before, so I figured the doctor must have been right, and I hoped that this meant it was on its way out of my system. The pain in my throat just continued to get worse, though, and I was also developing a nasty cough, which also caused tremendous pain in my throat. But what could I do?

So night came and I was going to go to bed, so I grabbed my cell phone from out of my purse to take it down and plug it in by my bed, and there was a voicemail message on there. It was the doctor I had seen, saying I needed to call them concerning my throat culture. But it was too late to call them then, so I went to bed worried about what it meant. So this morning I woke up early and called them, and they said they'd ran the second longer strep test on my throat swabbing, and it did indicate that I had strep, so they were going to put me on a regimen of penicillin. So this morning instead of going to the Memorial Day parade I went to the pharmacy to pick up my penicillin. And this evening, instead of going to work and getting holiday pay, I will be sitting here at home, in pain, choking and hacking into my surgical mask.

Okay, I know that may be a bit extreme. A mask? Really? It's not as weird as it sounds. I had a bag of surgical masks left over from back when I used to work at the hospital. (Sick kids are considered a highly susceptible population, so we had to take extra precautions, which meant when you got a nasty cold the employee health nurse would give you a box of surgical masks to wear so you didn't spread the germs around.) So I found them and put one on. I'm not really worried about infecting anyone else; they've all been around me with it for the past seven days. And once I've been on the antibiotics for twenty-four hours I won't be contagious anymore. But the mask just makes it easier because I can cough if I want to and the germs are all contained. I don't have to make the effort to stop what I'm doing to cough into my shoulder or elbow, nor do I have to cough into my hand and then go wash immediately. It's just easier this way. So I'll be wearing a mask until tomorrow morning, when I should no longer be contagious.

And I have to admit, it's kind of nice to be able to skip work and not get in trouble. But I am a little bummed about missing out on that holiday pay.

Anniversary/Thoughts

Today right after I clocked in at work the time clock beeped strangely at me, and when I looked at it it said, "HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!" It also did this after I clocked out. And I realized that I had been wasting my life away working part-time at Walmart for one whole year.

Actually, truth be told, I've known for awhile that my one-year anniversary was coming up, because employees get a slight raise on their anniversary, and because part-time employees become eligible for health insurance once they've worked there for a year. So you think this anniversary would be a good thing, right? Not when the job was supposed to be a temporary summer gig. Stupid job market.

But in thinking about this inasupcious occasion, I began pondering how I got to this point in my life. And I can't help but be afraid that I may have made the biggest mistake of my life in moving back in with my parents just over a year ago. Well, maybe I should go back in time a little further. Back to when I dropped off the face of the earth, or at least tried to. I graduated from BYU in August 2007 with a B.A. in history. Which is good for absolutely nothing, except for going to graduate school, which I never had any intention of doing. And even if I had wanted to go down that road, developing CFIDS in college made sure that my GPA was too low to really be considered for anything. But I was finally off academic probation and going to graduate. But to be honest, I had never really planned out what I was going to do after that. In the back of my mind I'd always assumed that I'd be married by the time I graduated from college. After all, I was at BYU, the world capital for single Mormon people. That is not to say that I went there to get married, which I definitely did NOT do. I went there to get an education, and I always assumed that marriage would just happen. And after I got there I always heard that the girls who insisted they were not there to get married were the first ones to go. (I am living proof that that is not true.) But after I'd been in college for awhile I realized that guys there are just as shallow as everywhere else and that marriage was not likely. I would have focused on making other plans for myself after graduation, but about this time I started getting sick, so my focus shifted on simply not getting kicked out of school for my abominable GPA, and then bringing it up enough and passing enough classes to graduate.

Well I was finally reaching the end of my university career. I started job hunting during winter semester of 2007, knowing I'd graduate in August. But nothing ever turned up. I was getting really stressed towards the end of the term because I would no longer be a student and also no longer have a place to live since the lease on my apartment ended at the end of the term. I could have renewed my lease, but I had to know where I would be working before I could do that because I didn't have a car and thus had to live near public transportation in the same town as my job. But I still had no job lined up. All the good jobs I was qualified for took one look at my GPA and rejected me, and for all the crappy jobs I'd go in to interview for they would say, "You have a college degree, and you want to work HERE?" and conclude that there must be something wrong with me. I only had two interviews that I thought went even remotely well--one was as a supervisor of sorts over the cafeteria at LDS Hospital, and the other one was just working in the cafeteria at Primary Children's Medical Center. But I was still freaking out. In two weeks I would be homeless and jobless. Plus at the time I was suffering from depression and had been off my medication for awhile. (I'm in the same boat now, but like I said, since I've been at Walmart for a year now I can get insurance, so maybe I can go back on the meds. We'll see.) Anyways, I was having panic attacks, and things were not going well. And I was having to skip classes sometimes just to get to these job interviews which were often in Salt Lake. As I said, I didn't have a car, and I had no one I could turn to for a ride, so my only option was to board a bus in Provo, transfer to another bus in Orem, ride that bus all the way up to Sandy, then get on the train and ride that all the way up to Salt Lake City, and then either walk to my final destination or take another bus there. All of this took about two and a half hours usually. It was really stressful, and the panic attacks were getting worse. I was praying for an answer, but nothing seemed to be coming. I was also kind of upset that I wouldn't be getting to experience the whole college graduation thing. My parents weren't coming to see me graduate, so what was the point of spending all the money on a cap and gown to walk in the ceremony? Plus, I figured that since my lease ended then I would most likely be moving on graduation day. But it was all still up in the air. My parents said I could move back home, but I really did not want to do that. My relationship with my parents has been strained at times, and at this time it was not the greatest. I would get into yelling matches with my mom on the phone, then hang up and start hyperventilating, and then once the panic attack was over I could look forward to the twenty-minute angry lectures my dad would leave on my voice mail. And I'd always sworn that I would never move back home.

But then it happened. I got a call offering me a job. It was as a cafeteria worker at Primary Children's Medical Center. And I made a huge mistake. I accepted right then and there. What I should have done was ask for a day to think it over and then prayed about it. If I had done that, I would have received the answer that, while this job would pay the bills, if I just waited a tiny bit longer, the Lord would have something better for me. But I didn't do that. I didn't consider the Lord at all in my decision. I just went with what seemed logical to me and my circumstances at the time. I needed a place to live, which I couldn't get until I had a job, and nothing else had come up. So I took the job. And then several days later I got a phone call offering me the supervisor job at LDS Hospital (which would have meant more responsibilities/meaningful work and would have looked better on a resume, not to mention that it paid more money). But I turned it down because I had already accepted a job somewhere else. Big mistake.

Well my mom was able to make some phone calls and find me an apartment within walking distance of Trax so I could ride the train to work. So on the day I should have been walking across the platform in a distinguished cap and gown to receive my bachelor's degree, I was moving into a lonely little apartment in Salt Lake City. I thought that my problems would be over then. I had a job and a place to live. But somehow it wasn't enough. The panic attacks were still happening. I hated my new job worse than I had ever hated anything, even though the work load was fine and the people I worked with were nice enough. (I think my mom knew I was depressed and I think she thought I was going to kill myself or something, although anyone who knows me knows I would never do that. I mean, besides the fact that I don't want to go to hell, I just think way too logically for that. I mean, I lived alone, and it would have been weeks before anyone even had any idea what had happened. But the fact that I thought about this shows how depressed I was.) I know now that it was the depression, the chemical imbalance, but at the time I was at my wit's end and just didn't know what to do. I had failed. I had to admit that and then try to move on. So I finally decided to move back to Minnesota.

I started my job in August 2007, and I wanted to give up and leave practically right away. But I had a six-month lease on my apartment, and if I broke that lease they would charge me like $900. So I was stuck there until at least February. I was living a pretty sad existence. I got up and went to work, and occasionally the grocery store, and I went to church every other Sunday (rotating with the weekends I had to work at the hospital). And since I was on my feet all day every day, I was very tired and in a lot of pain, so when I was at home I was usually just vegging in front of the t.v. or sleeping. (Like the time I slept through the SWAT team in my parking lot surrounding the building next door when they had a stand-off with some sex offender had broken his parole and vowed he was not going back to prison and finally shot himself. I was napping twenty feet away.) And I wasn't making enough money to save anything. I was making just enough to cover my basic expenses and pay the minimums on my credit cards. (The only reason I had credit cards that were nearly maxed out is that people who are flunking out of college are not only ineligible for scholarships, they are also ineligible for federal aid of any kind, so my Pell grants and Stafford loans eventually went out the window, and since I was broke, the only option I felt I had at the time was to charge my tuition to credit cards.) I did make one good decision during this time, though. I went back on the Zoloft, which helped a lot. I stopped having panic attacks and did not feel so hopeless. And I no longer spent time fantasizing that I would die in some freak accident, like some psychopathic freak would hijack a bus and then, after engaging in a high-speed chase through the streets of Salt Lake, finally end the chase by crashing into the Trax train that I happened to be sitting in. Yeah, untreated depression is not cool.

So anyways, I was hopeful now, partly because I was no longer depressed, but also because I figured I could move back to Minnesota and live with my parents for just a few weeks or months until I found a good full-time job (which would be easier because I would have a car to drive). It was finally worked out with my parents that I would move back in April 2008 (which was the only time we could arrange for my stuff to be moved). So I moved back. And after about one day, I wondered what the heck I had done to myself.

Okay, I am a huge Seinfeld fan, and at this point I basically became a female version of George Costanza (minus the immoral parts). At the beginning of one season George moves back in with his parents because he lost his job and couldn't afford to pay his rent anymore until he got a new job. So Jerry and Kramer help him move his stuff over to his parents' house, and since his parents are kind of crazy, Jerry and Kramer skip out right afterwards, and George is sitting there with his neurotic parents wondering aloud what he was thinking to do this. The majority of that season George is looking for a job and constantly being berated by his parents, who think that he should be able to get a job with no problem (he does apparently have a college degree, after all). And that's what it was like for me. I came home, and was there, and then wondered what on earth I had done to myself. But I thought I'd get a job no problem, because I did have a college degree, after all. They mailed it to me a few months after graduation. I even put it in a nice frame, which my parents wouldn't let me put up anywhere in the house because it just didn't go with the rest of the decor, so it is now residing in the bottom of a box, like most of everything else that I own. And my parents also thought I should have no problem getting a job if I just looked for one. So I decided to chill for one week, and then get down to business and get a job. I didn't think that taking one week off to relax was too unreasonable, but apparently it was. I felt the tension and saw the looks and got the lectures, and my little sister told me that she was in the car with the parents once when they were just talking about how lazy I was to not have a job after two weeks. And this is not to paint them in a bad way. That is not my intention. I'm just telling things how they were, how I saw them. Well after a few weeks of applying at all the good places and going in for a few interviews and getting nothing, I decided to apply for all the crappy jobs, figuring that I could just work at one of those temporarily until I got a real job. So after I'd been home for about a month I got a call from the Owatonna Walmart, saying they wanted me to come in and interview for a temporary position in their lawn and garden center. So I went in and got the job. Sure, it was only part-time, and it would only last until they closed the lawn and garden doors in July, but I figured that was fine, because I'd surely have a good job by then.

But then July came. And I'd only had like two job interviews the whole summer. But Walmart was offering other jobs to all the temporary people who were interested in still working there. And I figured that at least I'd have enough money to make my credit card payments, so I said I'd still like to work there and they transferred me over to toys. And here I am. Still working part-time in the toy department at the Owatonna Walmart. And still living with my parents, not even having a bedroom but sleeping in a random bed shoved in the basement. And unfortunately, when I moved to Minnesota I lost my health insurance, which meant that when all my prescriptions ran out I could not afford to go to a doctor to get refills written. So by the end of the summer I had quit all my medications cold turkey because there was nothing else to do. And I've been depressed ever since, although luckily I have not had any panic attacks since moving to Minnesota, nor have I fantasized about dying in some freak accident. Although once I did skip church and stay in bed for thirty hours just to see if anyone would notice. (They didn't.) And not being called in for any job interviews has not helped my state of mind at all. It just makes me feel like even more of a failure. I don't think I've gotten a single interview since like October. The only good thing is that my parents finally backed off after my aunt quit her job, expecting to just get a new one, and now five or six months later she is still unemployed. I guess they realized that it wasn't just me, but rather that it was the job market. Heck, I remember reading an associated press article in the paper about some middle-aged guy in Florida who had been laid off for one year, and in that time he had submitted something like 700 job applications and been called in for four interviews, none of which had ended in a job offer, and he was being forced to sell his house and move into his elderly mother's apartment. I also saw this political cartoon that I really liked. It showed a twentysomething guy and a middle-aged guy sitting at their kitchen table with a bunch of forms and papers scattered all over it. The younger guys says, "Thanks for helping me fill out all these job applications, Dad." And the dad replies, "These are MINE."

So that's why I'm afraid that I made a huge mistake in quitting my full-time job with benefits and moving back here. I had a job. I had benefits. Why did I give that up? Things would have eventually gotten better there, right? My goal now is that I have to somehow be making enough money to move out by March 2010. Because I WILL NOT be listed on the 2010 census as being twenty-four years old and still living with my parents. Heck, I will move into a motel for a few weeks if that's what it takes. If I can't be listed on the census as having a husband, then dang it, I am going to be listed as my own head of household!

But still here I sit, in my parents' house, living a meager existence under their household. I mean, heck, when they were my age not only had they been married for over a year, they already had a baby (my older brother Jeremy). And even he was married by the time he was my age.

I just realized that this ended up being way longer than I intended it to be. Partly because I sat down here at the computer with absolutely nothing to say. I apologize. I blame it on the wicked combination of pain killers and cold pills (and I'm talking about the good kind that they make meth out of that you have to get from the pharmacist). My throat is so sore and swollen that I can barely stand to swallow, but whatever virus I have has not affected my fingers apparently, so here I sit, typing away. But I'll stop now. Because most likely the few people who started reading this have long since lost interest and quit reading.

Just Another Mary Bennett

How many of you have read Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, or at least seen one of the many movie versions of it? You may be tempted to dismiss it because, after all, it was written roughly two hundred years ago; how could anyone truly identify with characters whose lives are so drastically different from our own modern ones? In my opinion that's what is so amazing about this story--I think that every girl in existence can strongly identify with one of the main characters of the story. And that is what I'm going to write about today.

In case you haven't read the book or seen one of the movie adaptations, the story revolves somewhat around the romantic adventures (or misadventures) of a young lady named Elizabeth Bennett. Elizabeth is the second out of five daughters, and we see glimpses into the lives and romatic escapades (or lack thereof) of each. In my observations of myself and other people, it seems to me that nearly every girl falls into one of these five categories.

The first is Jane Bennett. Jane is the eldest of the Bennett girls. She is pretty, kind, quiet, meek, wanting only to see the good in other people and be the peacemaker. She is every guy's dream--a hot wife who will love him unconditionally and completely let him rule the roost without any argument at all. She may weep privately if a guy dumps her, but she will still put forth a good face and somehow never lose hope for him. The modern Janes are good-looking girls (who don't know it or at least don't act like it) who are quiet and kind, always trying to be Christlike, who guys always seem to flock to, mainly for their beauty, but also because they will let the guy take complete control of the relationship.

The second daughter is Elizabeth. Lizzie is pretty, like her older sister Jane, but unlike Jane, Lizzie is opinionated, will not be cowed down by a man, and will freely speak her mind when she feels that it is necessary. Many guys think she is their dream girl because she'll make one hot wife, but when they realize that she actually has her own personality and thinks for herself they back off a bit, even if it is only temporarily. Modern Lizzies are good-looking girls (who, like Janes, don't know they're good-looking or at else don't act like it), but they are not necessarily quiet, have their own thoughts and ideas that you had better pay attention to, and while they would like to see the good in someone, if they have a problem with someone or there is an issue that needs to be addressed, they will not remain quiet about it. Guys flock to these girls as well, mainly for their beauty, until they realize that the girl has a strong personality and will not let them take complete control of the relationship. They may back off for awhile, but like I said, it's usually only temporary--they will soon realize that they are inexplicably turned on by a fiery personality, and so they come running back.

The third (and middle) daughter is Mary. Unlike her other four sisters, Mary is plain. I mean, she's not grotesque or anything, but she's not pretty. And since beauty (or "hotness") is the only thing guys really care about, she is often left out in the cold. She realizes that she will never attract a guy simply with her good looks, so she focuses her time on other pursuits--mainly reading books, studying music (particularly the piano), and doing church service. Guys do not flock to her, even if, like in the case of a certain Mr. Collins, she is absolutely perfect for them. Mr. Collins is mostly interested in church work and reading books, and is looking for a wife to run his household, and his personality meshes perfectly with Mary's, in my opinion. But she is plain, so he does not even consider her, but instead focuses on Jane and then finally proposing to Elizabeth. So Mary recedes into herself, playing her piano to try to impress people or reading her books for her own personal enjoyment. Modern Marys are not "hot," or even "decent looking." They do not fit the world's version of what a woman should look like (through no fault of their own). They try to develop other talents and interests in their lives, such as (but not necessarily) reading, music, church service, etc. But in the end it is not enough and they are alone, and it often leaves them somewhat bitter.

The fourth daugher is Kitty (short for Catherine). Kitty is good looking, and she is somehow completely dominated by her younger sister, Lydia. Kitty does everything Lydia does. She is definitely a follower, not a leader. She spends her time prettying herself up and chasing after boys. Modern Kittys are good-looking, and unlike Janes and Elizabeths, they know it, and they act like it. They are often overly vain and silly. They try as hard as they can to follow the current trends and do what other people tell them to in order to be popular. They are not necessarily troublemakers themselves, but often get into trouble because of the people they associate with.

The youngest daughter is the aforementioned Lydia. Lydia is very pretty and also extremely vain and silly. She spends all of her waking moments chasing after boys with Kitty in tow (much to the chagrin of the older girls). She will do anything to get a man, and she nearly ruins herself and her family in the process. Modern Lydias are good-looking, like Kitty, and they definitely put on airs about it. They are also overly vain and silly. Their lives revolve completely around makeup, clothes, and boys. Many of them also enjoy having a little flunky or two like Kitty who will follow them around and emulate them, and who will try to cover for them when they get into trouble. Which they will inevitably do. They are often troublemakers, and will do ANYTHING to get a man and keep him trapped. Even after they've pretty much ruined their lives, they don't even realize it because once they have caught a man, their lives then revolve completely around makeup, clothes, and showing off their boys.

So let's skip to the very end of the book. Lydia has gotten herself into trouble by running off with Mr. Wickham, a man of very questionable character who has taken advantage of at least one girl in the past. He gets her to come with him by telling her he will marry her (although he doesn't really intend to), which means that not only will Lydia be ruined for sleeping with a man out of wedlock, her entire family will be ruined. But luckily Mr. Darcy intercedes, out of his secret love for Elizabeth, and makes sure that Wickham does in fact marry Lydia.

Jane and Elizabeth endure a lot of continual excitement followed by many letdowns because of their stupid but lovable men of interest. It seems for awhile like they will not end up with the men of their dreams after all, but finally they attain happiness, as Jane and Elizabeth marry Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, respectively, in a lavish double wedding.

Kitty has somewhat settled down by the end of the book since she is no longer under the direct influence of Lydia. Yet she knows that her good looks will take her far, and at the end she moves away to live a life of excitement and fun (all within the bounds of what is proper, of course), with her relatives in the city.

Which leaves poor Mary the only daughter left at home. She is an adult woman who still lives with her parents because she has nothing else to do. She spends her time reading books, playing the piano, and giving service in the church, hoping in her heart that somewhere there will be a guy who will appreciate these things and eventually learn to appreciate and love her, but in the end, being plain as she is, she is left with the knowledge that what guys go for she hasn't got, and what she has got, guys don't go for. Not even her own parents really appreciate her but rather see her as a burden and, deep in their hearts (although they would deny it adamently) as an embarrassment.

Which is the predicament I find myself in. I am a modern Mary Bennett. I feel like I do have talents and interests, which I try to develop, but in the end, I am plain, and thus undesirable. So I am stuck here, living alone with my parents and family. And I don't see it changing anytime soon.

So my call to the rest of you is to figure out who you are. Are you a Jane, an Elizabeth, a Mary, a Kitty, or a Lydia? In the end, I am just another Mary Bennett.

A Series of Awkward Events, part the first

I made it a goal to write a new blog entry at least once a week, and since it’s been a week since my last entry, and since I can’t think of anything interesting to write about, I’ve decided to tell the second of my horrible dating stories, which I will also post to my facebook. Well actually I’ll only tell the first part of the story right now, since it is rather long (and because I’m already running out of dating stories, which is sad, since this is only the second one I’ve written). But I will say one thing about the remainder of these stories: while the first story involved a guy acting like a jerk, the rest of these don’t involve guys being jerks, but rather guys being extremely unbelievably awkward and dense. To the point of it being quite hilarious.

Well this story begins almost a year after the first story. I remember that it began in January or February because it involved a holiday weekend that happened sometime in there. I had moved to a new apartment in a new church congregation the preceding April or May. One of my roommates, Kim, seemed to have this mystical, magical power over the opposite sex--pretty much every guy who met her wanted to date her. (You know it’s true, Kim, but it’s all good. You finally found Mr. Right, which is more than I can say for myself.) So every guy in our apartment complex/church congregation who was not already dating someone had a huge crush on Kim (and I think a few of the guys who were dating someone had a crush on her as well).

You may wonder exactly what this had to do with me. It will make sense in a minute. But let’s get back to specifics. In December my aunt and uncle sent me a gift card to Outback Steakhouse. So I got this gift card and agonized over it. I knew only a complete loser would go and use a whole $25 Outback Steakhouse gift card by herself. And I knew that the only proper thing to do was to use it to go on a date, which was agreeable to me since I was the only twenty-year-old I knew who had never been on a date before (unless you choose to count The Thing That Was Not a Date, which I don’t). Unfortunately, I also knew that I could never work up the guts to ask any guy out on a date. Twenty years of rejection was hard to overcome. In fact, I still haven’t overcome it. But that’s neither here nor there.

So I was agonizing over this because I knew that I had to use the gift card to go out on a date but I just couldn’t ask anyone. And this is where Kim came into the story. Well let me first say that there were these two extremely weird, geeky brothers living in our apartment complex (who will hereafter be known as Kevin and Luke), and one of them (Kevin) had a huge crush on Kim and asked her out. She didn’t really want to go out with him because he was really weird and geeky, but he was a nice enough guy, and she didn’t want to be mean and hurt his feelings, so she kept putting off giving him an answer. She figured she should at least give him a chance and go out with him once and then let him down gently after that. She was telling me about this, and I got this brilliant idea. Why didn’t we go out on a double date, with me using my gift card? Then I could finally be able to say I’d gone out on a date, I’d feel the gift card’s purpose had been appropriately utilized, and Kim would not be stuck alone on a really awkward date. Kim liked the idea, but we needed someone for me to go with. We thought the most logical person was Kevin’s brother Luke. I wasn’t interested in him or anything, but we figured it could just be a casual, fun date.

Kim was acquainted with the two brothers better than I was, since they’d all been living there for awhile longer than I had. So she approached them with this idea for a double date, and they agreed to it. Kim told me that they’d agreed to it, but that Luke wanted to ask me to go with them himself. And that was just fine with me. So we were trying to figure out a date that would work for the four of us, which was proving to be rather difficult. I admit that it was all my fault. Let me explain. At this point I was known as kind of a workaholic. I was a crew supervisor at Cougar Express in the Cougareat on campus, and I worked every evening Monday through Friday closing the place up. I pretty much lived there. At the time I was really sick and missing a lot of class and getting terribly behind with my homework but forcing myself to still go to work everyday so I could still pay my rent, being unaware that I actually had Chronic Fatigue and Immune Dysfunction Syndrome. Being a workaholic and having CFIDS don’t really mesh, which is how I ended up on academic probation and being one more failing grade away from being kicked out of the university. After I figured out what was wrong with me and being forced to accept my limitations I was able to bring my grades up just enough to graduate after awhile, which thing I accomplished by dropping from being a full-time student to taking just two classes per semester (which was the minimum required to keep my job on campus).

But that’s all not really relevant to the story. Suffice it to say, at this point in time I was very sick and working all the time, and when I wasn’t working I was usually sleeping or trying to get some of my past-due homework completed. So you’d think this wouldn’t really be that much of a problem; we could just pick a date and I could ask for that day off, right? Well, it just didn’t work that way at my job. I’ll explain how it did work. There was a wall where all the stores had their own schedule board, who was working what shifts. It was posted I think three weeks in advance. If you wanted a certain day off, you highlighted your name on the schedule. Then if someone else was willing to work that shift for you, they’d write their name under yours, and then the shift was officially their responsibility. Now if it came down to like the week of the day you wanted off, and no one had signed up for your shift, then you would start calling people and asking them if they would be willing to work for you. If you were unable to find anyone, after going through all these proper channels, if you gave management at least twenty-four hours’ notice, you wouldn’t get in trouble for not showing up. But during the closing shift there were only two of us there, and I knew from many such experiences that it SUCKED when the other person didn’t show up, even if they had gone through the proper channels and weren’t in trouble for it. So I’d decided that I would never do that to any of my co-workers unless I was physically unable to come to work, like I was out of town or something. There were plenty of times I highlighted my name and no one signed up for my shift, and after calling everyone, I sucked it up and went to work anyway and missed out on the good times. It kind of irritated me, since I was ALWAYS signing up for other people’s shifts and working for them, but nobody would ever return the favor. But that doesn’t really matter here. What matters is that the best I could do was if we picked a date I could highlight my name, but most likely no one would work for me, so I’d end up going to work anyway.

But then a solution presented itself: a holiday weekend. On most holidays when there were no classes the Cougareat was closed, or it was only open if they got enough people to volunteer to come in. So there was one day that I was guaranteed not to have to work. So we decided on that day. But then Kim or Kevin (I don’t remember which) had some conflict on that day and couldn’t come. And after all this time Luke still hadn’t asked me or mentioned anything to me. Not that he hadn’t had the opportunity. I saw him all the time outside our complex, and every Sunday in church, but he completely ignored me every time he saw me. I was starting to think everyone had just decided to forget about the whole thing, but then finally one Sunday Luke came up to me after church and was like, “So, are we still on for Monday?” So I said I was. We decided that he and I would go out to Outback on that day, and then sometime later we’d have the double date when it would work for everyone. We finally got it all figured out for our date, although the conversation was painfully awkward.

So the appointed evening arrived. I tried to make myself look nice, and I was really nervous, not because I had any sort of romantic feelings for Luke whatsoever, but because I was FINALLY going out on a date. I was ready early and was nervously hanging out in the apartment, waiting for him to come get me. I am not the kind of girl to keep someone waiting; if I tell someone I will be ready to go out at a certain time, I will be there with my hair and makeup done at that set time. Or if something came up and I would be unable to be ready on time, I would call the guy and tell him that I was running late. That’s just how I roll. But guys apparently don’t really care about things like that, although they frequently complain about it. Well finally he came. He held up an R2-D2 pez dispenser and asked me what I thought of it. Now I happen to love Star Wars, so I replied that it was the coolest thing I had ever seen. He kind of awkwardly said “Well it’s yours then,” and shoved it at me. (I still have it, by the way, not because I particularly want to remember Luke or the date or all the ensuing awkwardness, but because R2-D2 is extremely cool and I am not ashamed to admit that.) So we went to his car and he drove us to Outback. I think he had already made the reservation, so we went in and were seated. He asked if I thought I should use my gift card then or on the double date that we were still planning on going on, and I said I thought it would be better to use it now because I thought it would be weird to say that Kim and Kevin HAD to go to Outback with us when I wasn’t paying for them. And we wouldn’t have to go to Outback twice that way. (Not to say that I wouldn’t enjoy going to Outback twice. I wouldn’t mind it, actually, because they have good food there. But I just wanted to leave more options open.) So we got that all settled, and it was time to order. The waiter or waitress (wait-person? I honestly don’t remember the gender) of course suggested we get the blooming onion appetizer, and Luke said, “Yeah, let’s go for the blooming onion.” I don’t think I’d ever had a blooming onion before (although I’d always thought they looked and sounded absolutely delicious), because every other time I’d ever been to Outback was when Uncle Mitch was visiting (the same uncle who sent me the card), and Uncle Mitch is famous for having an eternal hatred and intolerance for onions. So we could never get a blooming onion when we were with him. So the blooming onion comes, and I was a little disappointed. I kind of think Luke was, too. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but I don’t think it was fresh. It seemed like they must just make up a lot of blooming onions with the anticipation that most parties will get one as an appetizer, and the one we got had been sitting back there for too long. So we kind of picked at the onion until our real food came, and peppered it all with some awkward conversation. I didn’t really know what to say or how to act since this whole date thing was a new experience for me, and half of the things I said were absolutely retarded. As soon as I said them I was mentally kicking myself. Maybe Luke didn’t notice; after all, he was like that pretty much all the time himself.

So our dinner was finally over. We had the remains of the blooming onion put in a doggie bag and we went to pay. I handed them my gift card, and it was actually a few dollars short. Luke was nice enough to pay the difference. (Like I said, the guys in the rest of these stories weren’t jerks like the guy in the first story was.) So then he said he thought we’d go to Fat Cats. In my mind I was thinking, “Yay! Bowling!” Although I suck royally at bowling (even taking a bowling class in college didn’t help my score), I actually really enjoy it. It’s the one sport I like participating in. I’d always thought bowling would be a really fun date, especially with a group of people. It’s about the only activity where you can be absolutely terrible and sucky and still have fun. So on the way there I mentioned something about bowling, and Luke kind of sat there awkwardly and then blurted out, “Oh, I hadn’t planned on going bowling. I thought we’d just play pool.” So I sat there awkwardly said that that would be fun, too, even though I was no good at pool. So we went to Fat Cats and I tried my best at pool. He said he wasn’t that good, either. I don’t think Luke really understood the true depth of my suckiness at pool. Well he did shortly into it, and think he tried to be nice and play a little worse and “let” me get some extra points (which didn’t really help anyway, because I’m pretty much hopeless there). Even with him trying to make me feel good I still lost both games, and was embarrassed at my complete lack of skills.

So after a few games of pool we decided to call it a night. We drove back to the apartment complex, and I was wondering how the date would end. As has been established, I had never done this before, although I’d heard my fair share of discussions of how dates should end. I should say here that Mormon dates usually end on a much tamer note than dates among the general population; most Mormon girls won’t even kiss on the first date, let alone do anything else (keep in mind that there’s no sex until marriage), and I’d heard the general consensus that if you didn’t kiss, you should shake hands or hug or high-five or something like that (except for a few people I knew, who were into the whole NCMO [pronounced nicmo] thing, which stands for non-committal makeout for anyone who is unfamiliar with the term; I personally do not agree with NCMOs). I was pretty sure that Luke was not romantically attracted to me in any way, as I was not to him, so I was positive that even a peck on the cheek was out of the question. I figured a handshake or something like that would be in order, though. So anyways, we pulled into the parking lot, and I tried to give him the blooming onion. He firmly insisted that I take the blooming onion, despite my feeble protests. So I finally relent and pick up the white foam box containing the blooming onion, and we get out of the car. I was wondering how this whole handshake and/or high-five would go down and thinking that the blooming onion in my hands would make things difficult, when Luke just said, “Well, see you,” and he turned and walked away towards his own apartment. So I was standing there in the parking lot alone, all dressed up but with no one to keep me company except a blooming onion. No handshake/high-five/hug or anything. Just me and a blooming onion.

So I walked back to my apartment alone with my pitiful half-eaten blooming onion. I went in and shoved the blooming onion in the fridge. I think a few of my roommates were home and wanted to know how it went. I was pretty tight-lipped out of my own personal embarrassment and awkwardness, and just said vaguely that it was fun and offered everyone some blooming onion. (Which I don’t think anyone took me up on; if I remember correctly at some point the blooming onion finally went to its grave in our garbage can after enjoying a long life in the back of our refrigerator.) So I went into my room, really happy that finally I’d gone out on a date, but also not-so-happy because I’d have to go out with him again. But a bargain’s a bargain, and I was not going to back out on the double date that we’d been planning. So we all set to work trying to figure out a date that would work, even though neither Kim nor I really wanted to do it anymore. But that is the end of part one of this story. And you think that was awkward? Well, the REAL awkwardness with Luke has not even yet BEGUN to occur……