So the previous couple entries were written a few weeks ago, in hasty inspiration-of-the-moment fashion. I hadn’t really intended to put them up here, because I’ve been nagged by the feeling that it’s really narcissistic to have a personal blog about personal shit that nobody cares about but you. But firstly, I know grand will read this, no matter how stupid, and secondly, who gives a crap? If nobody knows about it, who’s judging? I really shouldn’t be so self-conscious. To quote one of my favorite authors: “Self-hatred is really very narcissistic.” No one’s looking, Apperson. Climb a long ladder and get over yourself.

The main reason I haven’t written in a while is that my life, since the play and even a little bit before, took a turn for the decidedly worse. Things started happening. The sorts of things that you think of when you hear that “May you live in interesting times” is a Chinese curse. To name one, my ex-boyfriend (think I’ll call him Mitya), who broke my heart and ruined my sophomore year, decided to start telling me he was still in love with me.

To fill you in, I was devastated when Mitya left me last year. I mean, I loved that boy. Still do, unfortunately. I say “unfortunately,” because I don’t think he loves me. Sometimes he says he does, and I live for those moments, but then he always turns around and says no, maybe he doesn’t. I don’t fucking understand. Anyway, that’s the way it went all last quarter. Mitya’d find me randomly, break down about what a dick he was and how he couldn’t help himself, he wanted me so much. And I’d react like a stone-cold bitch, saying cruel things, trying to be strong and fend him off… but I never could. When all’s said and done, I love him. And as long as there’s any kind of a chance with him, I’ll hold out hope.

So I can’t be with that guy (who, for various reasons, I’ll call Lorre) I was all excited about last Christmas. Lorre from Jersey who, for once, liked me instead of the other way around. I’m not sure he does anymore, though. He took off for Spain, and we haven’t talked in a while. To be honest, I’m kind of hoping he’s lost interest. It’ll make me feel less bad when we go back to school and I have to face him again. Objectively speaking, he may be the better guy, but who knows. I’m so in love with Mitya that if he ever needed me, I’d go to him. If he called me from fucking Australia, I’d seriously over-draft myself to hop on the next plane to Sydney. I don’t even know if planes fly non-stop to Sydney, but I’d find a way. Hop on a cargo-ship, or something. While I feel like that, obviously, I shouldn’t lead anyone else on. ‘Specially not as good a guy as Lorre. I’d hate myself if I hurt him.

So for now, I’m just gonna wait. Fortunately, I’m away from it all in Grand Rapids, MI, where I’m having the best summer of my college career, interning at a think tank downtown. Well, the ‘intern’ part of it isn’t so great; I’ve mostly been assigned various intern-y tasks like scanning some horribly-witten books and converting them into e-books. Which is a lot more of a tedious chore than it sounds. Especially since these books were composed by people who apparently think adverbs modify nouns. No, seriously. Adverbs. Modifying nouns. It’s the ultimate head-clutch for a grammar nazi. No, I’m sorry; ‘Ultimately head-clutcher.’ Gak. That hurts to write, even in jest.

In case you hadn’t noticed, when it comes to grammar and usage, I’m a full-blown SNOOT of the David-Foster-Wallace school.

Also, I’m not cut out for an office job. At all. I don’t see how people can stare at a computer screen, encapsulated in a little cubicle that offers the only merest illusion of privacy – just enough to make you not notice your boss coming around the corner in time to exit out of a webcomic, but not at all enough to make your boss not notice you – every day from nine to five. Or longer, if they’re that dedicated. It’s okay for the summer, because I like my little think tank and everyone who works there, but if I had to face it for the rest of my life, I think I’d lose my mind. I’m already getting a little Office Spacey – don’t touch my stapler. Don’t even look at my stapler, dammit! I’ll never find another one! Plus, after a full day of staring at the computer screen, I find I’m forgetting how to talk to people…. Anyway, complaints aside, I do love my fellow-interns. Last weekend we all trekked out to Lake Michigan, which was awesome. I couldn’t believe my eyes; it’s the friggin’ ocean! But, like, not salty! We swam, played a little volleyball, ate hamburgers, got bad cases of sunburn, and came home well and truly exhauseted. Good times were had, let’s just put it that way.

And now I’m facing a 4th of July weekend with nothin’ to do (as of yet) but work on my thesis for senior year. I’m writing on the Brothers Karamazov, and I love my topic, but it’s hard to concentrate. Mainly because I don’t want to think about going back to school, what with all the messiness in my life right now.

Well, at least I know who I love, like that song. I don’t know where I’m going though, and I don’t know who’s going with me. But at least I know who I love. Painful as it is, it’s also nice, having that certainty. Maybe the rest will come later. I'll hold on to that thought for now.