kasey (allthingsshiny) wrote,

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Late nights, booty calls, shiny disco balls

The title is fairly random. Don't think my life is so interesting. Late nights, maybe. But no booty calls, and I had a disco ball once, but I ended up smashing it to bits with a bat, which was much fun.

So this is what comes of me avoiding TC:

Feeling fairly alone and pathetic, I call Heather and demand time. We've been trying to plan to hang out lately, but it just hasn't happened. So I told her that we were going to hang out that night, before I went to work. She said Johnny would be over there ... fine by me.

I head down there, and this scary thing happened ... I was followed on the way over there. Driving up 7th St., I look to my left at a stoplight, and this little shaved head messican guy is looking over at me, waving and staring. I laugh, ignore, and turn up the radio ("Stigmata" by Ministry - a great song to accompany angry reckless driving). The car keeps up beside me until I turn right onto Park. They don't follow (I didn't think they followed???) and I continue on toward Heather's with little further thought of it.

When I turn onto Heather's street, a car is behind me. I park along the street and start gathering up my stuff. The car behind me pulls up beside me, almost trapping me in. Same car, same guys ... and they start in with the comments ... hey baby, where are you going ... he wants my number ... where are you from? I fend off as best as I can, and lucky for me, I had found a spot close to the gate of Heather's apartments. Also lucky for me, the gate was unlocked, though it was quickly locked behind me once I was inside.

I am usually pretty confident and fearless when out by myself. But this rattled me.

So anyway, I end up safely inside the messy little apartment with Heather and Johnny. Mostly talking, they were drinking. I tried and failed to fix Heather's computer, Heather and I tried to expl,ain the merits of thong underwear to Johnny, and Johnny tried to teach me how to box (and ended up with a bruised eye for his efforts).

I don't want to break the heart of a boy who has been nothing but nice ... I don't want to lead him on ... at the same time, it's hard to push away the affection I've been starving for, from someone I'm comfortable with ... And it's not that I'm not interested, but it's not what I want at this point in my life. Another stray to take care of. Another punk boy to fall way too hard for me, to be dependent on me, to smother me.

It would have been so right at so many other points in my life. When I was interested, a year or two ago, he didn't notice me. But there are so many reasons nothing is going to happen now. For one, I actually like Johnny too much to have him be a boy of convenience to me. That would be incredibly selfish on my part. For another, I don't want to screw up this friendship, and all of our mutual friendships, by hurting him.

I don't know why he's all stuck on me now. I don't know why I'm even thinking about falling into old traps. Ack. Am I that pathetic? Someone slap some sense into me ...

This is not what I want. I will come to my senses momentarily.

I just really don't want to break this boy's heart.

Left eventually and went to work. No patients in the hospital when I got there, so I decided to make a quick 7-11 run for soda and munchies. Just a quick, easy trip ... yeah. I get my smokes and soda and head back, and see a Brea cop traveling the same route I am, a few car lengths back. No worries, I'm going the speed limit, wearing my seat belt, no warrants, and actually not doing anything I'm not supposed to be doing. Suddenly, flashing lights. I pull over, not having a fucking clue why I'm being pulled over this time. Spotlight and red light come on. Cop marches up to my window, and barks at me: "Do you know what is wrong with your registration?"

I know exactly what is wrong with my registration. As of last night, the tags had been expired for four fucking days. The check has been sent, the DMV lags. Four fucking days. I explain such to the scary man with the shiny badge. He checks my license, which says I live in Garden Grove.

"You live in Garden Grove?"

"Yes, sir." (Not worth explaining the situation at that point.)

"So what are you doing in Brea at this time of night?"

"I work at the emergency pet clinic in La Habra, on Harbor." (A block or so away from where I got pulled over.)

"Okay. Have you ever been arrested?"

"No, sir."

And he runs my license, makes me sit there for 10 minutes or so, all for tags that have been expired for four fucking days. All I wanted to do was go to 7-11 for a soda, and go back to work. Jeebus. So he lets me go, no ticket, just harassment.

All in all, it was a strange night.

I've been wondering lately if I'm toxic ... having a hard time reaching people that I can usually get a hold of. Ambrose, Jessica, Ryan ... I can't get a fucking return call. For no reasons that I know of. As far as I can figure, I'm kryptonite. I would just love to know what I'm doing to piss people off.

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