Disclaimer: This is to let me vent.

Do you ever get so nervous about doing something that you can't seem to calm down enough to get started? Every time I think about writing my essays for nursing school applications I'm like AHHHHHHHH I AM FREAKING OUT NOW!!!

A brief explanation of why I am stressed:

I will officially be homeless July 21 when my apartment lease is up.
If I get into nursing school choice #1, I will need to take two prereqs plus Anatomy II there Fall semester before starting the program Spring semester. That means I need to know that I've gotten in and and be registered for classes that start in just five weeks. What if they don't make a decision in time? Do I chance it and begin the classes anyway? What if I end up paying for two classes that I end up not needing cause I don't get in and have to go to choice #2 or #3? In addition, choice #3 has a prereq that that choices #1 and #2 don't require. Do I try to take that class too if I don't find out in time? I could end up paying for three classes I don't need. If I find out in time that I'm rejected from choice #1, where should I take my prereqs for school #2 and #3? Is it too late to find a place to take them? I will either be living with my parents or my sister until I get into and start at choice 1, 2 or 3. If it's choice #1 I'm moving there in the Fall. If it's choice 2 or 3, I'll be staying with my parents or sister until January. Should I try to make arrangements to take prereqs for 2 and 3 at schools closer to them just in case? Which of them should I live with? Where the hell is my second letter of recommendation and why is my prof taking so long?

In addition I will be leaving Athens, where I have lived for five years. I have mixed feelings about this. I have really loved Athens, but most of my friends are gone now. I know deep down that it's time to move on, but I've never left a place that I actually liked before and I'm really really sad! Maybe tomorrow I should go out and buy t-shirts or something from all the places I love.

Okay, I feel a tiny bit better now I think...

Okay bitches, here's the deal. I am writing this at work and there's a good chance I'll be interrupted, have to post it unfinished to save it and finish it later. So don't read it until I say so in the space below:

OKAY DONE!

Today I have a few random thoughts to share. So today this guy who is 22 and has never had a job before tells me he's looking for one. I've had eight jobs that have been all over the place--food service, office, coffee house, lifeguard, reporter, etc--so I find this extremely amusing because damn, wait until he finds out what he's in for. It's sort of like watching someone go the DMV for the first time, who probably thinks he'll be in and out of there quickly (I mean how long does it take to make a license) and that everyone working there will be friendly and helpful. He's all excited about it, so I can't wait to see how this one unfolds...

In other news, I am DONE with Anatomy I--wooooohooooo!!! Now it's time to finish applications. For one of them I have to write a short essay explaining my position on a healthcare or social issue. I need a topic that won't be found offensive, whether the person reading is liberal or conservative. I also figure it needs to be pretty narrowly focused since it's such a short essay and should be something not too obvious so it looks like I've put thought into it. Any suggestions???

Last night I felt like writing and today I'm feeling lazy, so this is all I have to say about my not-very-exciting life. At least I'm finally updating...

I log onto livejournal pretty much everyday. I read my friends' page. I think about posting something myself, but I don't. Sometimes I even feel like I can't, and I don't know why. I want to know why. I've only decided to update now because I realize it's the only balance I can hope to strike between not wanting to talk to myself and not wanting to talk to anyone else either. It's anonymous except for a few old friends and online friends who I care about and love being in touch with, but whose judgements have less of a chance of wounding me. Last summer and fall I went through about four months of therapy (once a week sessions) for a collective unhappy state consisting of anxiety, depression, and eating disorder and self-harming behavior. I learned some important coping skills I'd missed out on growing up and also examined what caused me to miss out on them. Since then, I no longer exhibit symptoms of the four mentioned above. I like myself and have a well-adjusted and healthy outlook on life. I am working very hard to get into nursing school and am doing a pretty damn good job juggling work, excelling in my classes, and dealing with the unexpected things that life throws at me. The thing is, though, that even though I'm no longer in a constant state of inner turmoil, I'm not superhuman or invincable either. About a year ago my best friend, who I loved and cared about deeply, offically asked me to be in her wedding. Fast forward to 2 and 1/2 months ago when she out of the blue goes MIA and doesn't respond to my voicemails, texts and emails. I finally emailed her to ask her what was going on and she told me her fiancee's mother who is terminally ill isn't doing well and they're not having a big wedding anymore, just a small one with family at the hospital. Later I came to find out that they're prepared to move the wedding to the hospital if necessary, but still planning the big wedding. My friend is ordering bridesmaid dresses and planning bachlorette party outtings, but has kicked me out with no explanation. I confronted her and told her what a bitch she was for doing it, so I stood up for myself and now I'm moving on. My reason for giving this example to make the point that it's not keeping me from functioning or impacting my life in the way things used to, but it still fucking HURTS. And it hurts A LOT and it's going to take time for the wounds to heal. Naturally I'm going to miss her and also be upset that she did this to me. What I want to know is why I tell the story (everyone agrees she was a heinous bitch), but I don't tell anyone the part about how much it hurts. It's not as simple as I feel like I can't talk to anyone. But as the title tells you, bitches really be TRYING me sometimes and I stand up for myself, but I let it soak in quietly and unemotionally and just keep it there, and there are other things too. The only clue anyone has that I'm upset my best friend lied to me and kicked me out of her wedding is that I've been much quieter than usual for a couple days. I just wonder why that is?

Well friends, another St. Patrick's Day has come and passed and, as always, not without incident. The debauchery actually began a bit early this year, I'm assuming on account of the full moon or...something. Last Saturday night my friend Megan and I ended up at Taco Stand eating dinner and drinking beer. A pitcher later we headed to Go Bar, my new favorite hangout, with beer goggles tightly fastened and secured. I met a cute guy and agreed to hang out at his apartment after the bar closed. Once I'm there and the haze of alcohol from before lifts, I realized what a big dork he is. Damn. But I'm already there so we make out anyway and I end up with the first set of hickeys on my neck of my life. I am picked on relentlessly by the two bartenders the next few days at work (my concealer missed one on the back of the neck). "Hey Megan, want me to get you some garlic powder from the back? It'll help ward off future vampire attacks." Or as a manager approaches, "Megan you have GOT to stop begging me for hickeys. I'm not that kind of guy." But it's all in good fun and I'm a little cooler in everyone's eyes now.

Thursday I headed to Atlanta for the weekend. My sister and I split a few pitchers and passed out around 10. The next day my parents, sister's fiancee, and his 12-year-old son arrived. There's a huge party for Erin's birthday the next day and I'm so full from a huge lunch that I decide to do shots because I figure it's less volume. Fourteen in total. I am not kidding. I ended up dancing on every piece of furniture in my sister's new house and finally the island in her kitchen. My future brother-in-law gives me piggy back rides and shakes my ass from side to side while we sing Baby Got Back. Completely outrageous. The next day we watch the St. Patrick's Day parade and I take lots of anti-nausea medicine to get through the day. A little different from celebrating in Savannah, but I still puked and that's what counts.

Sunday my mom and I hung out at Erin's house while the rest of my family turned redneck and went to the nascar race. Erin ends up puking at the race, which is cancelled because of the rain. It takes them four hours to get home due to traffic. I feel sorry for everyone, but can't help thinking that's what you get for being hillbillies.

Monday I looked all over Atlanta for a white blouse to wear to work because they've switched uniforms on us and finally pulled back into Athens around 8 pm.

Today I've returned to my regular boring self. I worked a double and now have five episodes of The X-Files to watch, woohoo! Isn't life grand?

Remember how I said ex F and his friends are worse than middle school girls? I have proof. I checked my email Sunday to find a message he'd sent Saturday (the NEXT day) at 12:02 p.m. That means his retarded friends called before freaking 11 a.m. to tell him about their run-in with me. Basically he wanted to know where I got off telling people that he broke up with me by text message without telling me why and never spoke to me again. Apparently another friend of ours (don't worry I'm not going to assign her a letter) noticed how rude his friends were being and told them how he'd done it and to back off. I replied to remind him that this IS indeed what happened. He then apologized for my inability to read his mind and told me he'd come to the conclusion that I was too wild for his tastes and that he didn't think he was an ass, but if I need to think he's one to move on, then that's okay. I suppose now I can say we broke up because he was no fun AND an ass. Good riddence. The following account of my day should show just how much my life is like taking a walk on the wild side.

This morning my roommate woke me up at 9 a.m. to drive her to work. She was running late because her cat shit on the living room couch and she'd been cleaning it up. I take her, come home, get ready for work, notice I'm ready early and decide to close my eyes for a few minutes... I wake up a thirty minutes later, making me 20 minutes late for work. I am beginning to lose patience with the cat. Work is mostly uneventful, aside from one of the bartender getting behind the line andbreaking it down while he pretended to be a cook. Soooooo funny.

After work I have four episodes of The X-Files that I've taped from the night before to watch and am ready to explode with geeky green alien excitement. Jesus, Mary and Flying Saucers! Somehow I've missed the episode I'd been dying to see, the one where Scully finds out she has a child. So I STILL don't know who that baby daddy is! Damn.

I then make a trip to the grocery store and buy ALL healthy things so I can get rid of my winter fluff. I have two and half months to get back in shape to lifeguard this summer (more hours, more sun than the restaurant). I'll have to work on my street fighting skilz in case I'm stuck at a project pool again because the country club is full. You'll have to excuse me, I have LOTS of bowls of fruity pebbles to work off...

Here begins my first entry... It will probably be lame so bare with me. Or not. I really don't give a fiddler's fart either way. I've been reading Frank McCourt and fiddler's fart has become one of my favorite things to say. I like him, among many reasons, because he's always looking at what's going around him saying "wtf?" privately to himself and wishing he could be like those out there who don't seem to give a fiddler's fart about anything. I can relate.

Yesterday two friends of mine from undergrad came to Athens, where I still live. I work at an Italian restaurant taking food out to people's cars, barely surviving, and will begin taking anatomy and physiology April 3 at a school on the quarter system to get them done faster. The classes end Sept 8 and my apartment lease will be up at the end of July. I will likely have to take a class that nursing programs will accept in the place of human lifespan growth and development, since UGA doesn't have that class, in the Fall. If all goes according to plan I will begin an accelerated program in January, have a BSN about 1.5 years later, and be on my way to NYC, city of my dreams since I was eight years old.

Anyway, last night, my friends come into town and we all go out and I'm having a tofu burrito that rocks my socks off and we're putting back pitcher after pitcher of $5.75 bud light and I'm having a truly fabulous time. My friends are cracking me up with their running commentary on things like the mayor of New Orleans making a comment to the effect of, "wanting to rebuild the chocolate city." Then apparently backpedaling by saying, "Well, uh, chocolate IS made with milk..." Oh holy shit. Friend A even admits that she was stupid for voting for Bush, after she'd given me a 20 minute rant last November for voting for the now too obvious choice to her, Kerry.

Friend B then decides she'd really like to invite her friends C and D, who happen to be ex-boyfriend F's (of course I would skip the E) best friends, to hang out with us. This is ex-boyfriend F, first love, who broke up with me Sex and the City style by text message (which you can refer to as Post-it Note G if you'd like), completely out of the blue, and who I have not heard from since. Must mention the ex and his friends are gossipy and lame enough to put any group of middle school girls to shame. Forty-five minutes after enduring, "errr, yeah, hi Megan..." and pretending to be having a fabulous time talking to Friend A while they observe as if I were some kind of circus freak, the post-Post-It Note episode of Sex and the City kicks in when I remember my beer bucket. Some time ago I messaged Friend C simply asking for my Pineapple Willy's beer bucket I had left at his apartment, who he does NOT share with ex F. In fact, ex F lives 2 hours away.

Me: Hey, Friend C, did you ever get my message about my beer bucket?
Friend C: Errr, uhhh, yeah, we've still got it...
Me: Well why didn't you message me back and let me pick it up?
Friend C: Oh come on, I wasn't getting the middle of all THAT.
Me: The middle of what? I just want my BEER BUCKET back.

Friend A shushes me. Although I actually say with complete accuracy that my actions after the breakup were not in the least psycho. I never contacted ex F again. His friends however, look on like there's some kind of drama and I am the psycho causing it. As Carrie says, there IS a right way to break up with someone and it DOESN'T involve a text message. COMPLETELY outside the incident of ex F not being human being enough to break up with me in a respectful way is the simple fact at hand. I JUST WANT MY BEER BUCKET BACK. Plain and simple.

Friends A and B could not wrap their minds around why I may be saddened by the above incident. That's why they're out and hopefully will come in after I've gone to bed and leave early before I get up. I suppose the fact that I don't give a fiddler's fart brings me a little closer to my desired state of being. Writing this entry has been cathartic and once I hit "update journal" this will be out of my mind and I'll spend the rest of my precious Saturday night doing nothing and I know it will be everything I thought it could be.