Entry #2 on this dreary Monday.

It would appear, that a number of people are advocates of the Gap. Were you people brainwashed by Reality Bites? I don't care, I still hate it. I don't have money for couture or even Vivienne Tam but I still manage to pull something adventurous together.

*~*

I've decided that all of you who read me are masochists. I re-read this vapid shit I wrote and I can't even believe I waste my time reading it. It's painfully lame.

If you're even remotely interested in an update on the boy situation in my life, I had to call the OTHER guy on Saturday and tell him not to meet me since my brother's match ended early. Actually, I called his friend that I invited and had him call the guy. Because I don't have the guy's phone number. So we didn't meet up.

I get this e-mail from him today:

"As usual we can never get together.. Some thing always fucks up..

Did your bother win?

I bet you didn't even get a chance to get tuned up, did you?? When I called S. to meet up, He told me it was all over....

I guess it's not meant for us to meet up..

Now what?????

XX"

What the hell is that? Is that what I think it is? Is that e-mail flirting? I think maybe it is.

Meanwhile, how annoying is that? Don't throw the ball in my court. I CAN'T CATCH. What in hell am I supposed to do with that?? I need to be told what to do. None of this "Now What?" shit.

I realize there are a lot of girls who are into asking a guy out, making the move, etc. I don't operate like that. In fact, chances are I won't even pick up on a guy hitting on me until he leans over to kiss me. I am, in a word clueless. Truly.

If I'm not clueless, I am embarrassing myself. 75% of the time I feel like Baby in "Dirty Dancing" when she goes to the staff party and Patrick Swayze asks "What's SHE doing here" and Baby says, "I carried a watermelon."

Pretty much anything coming out of my mouth when trying to impress a guy, will be along the lines of "I carried a watermelon." Unless I am wasted, in which case I will be witty. Or rude. Usually both.

So I reply:

"In their draft, they got a buy, which meant they preceeded the first round and went directly to the second round, in which they ended up playing the tourney champions....and lost. My brother played well, his partner did not. Anyway, we were feeling pretty good b4 we even got there and we stayed after and drank beers until 1PM.

Anyway, I had fun! Sucks that you guys didn't make it though. I definitely want to get together, so name the date/time..."

The next thing I know I get a group e-mail from him requesting everyone to get together on Wednesday night at this random NYU bar where I wouldn't be caught DEAD.

So, now I'm thinking of his choice of bars and decided I'm not interested anymore. I mean, ick. Of all the bars in the city why pick there?!?

So I don't reply.

He send me this:

"well ????????

what up with Wednesday??"

So I said I already had plans for Wednesday and asked for a raincheck. He e-ed back "next time."

I really have to get my act together.

You know, I was just thinking about this situation and how embarrassed I would be if he read this page and saw our conversation.

Let's all collectively hope that never happens.

What the hell - he shouldn't be reading a girl's diary ANYWAY. So there.

*~*

However, I had an ego boost this weekend from two unexpected people. One was my roomate H., who asked me if I ever wonder, "Is this it? Isn't there anything more?" And she asked me if I'm satisfied with life, or if I ever will be.

Is this it, I mused outloud, I sure as hell hope not. Is there more, I pondered, there had better be. Am I satisfied, not a chance. Will I ever be satisfied, I hope so.

We spoke about it for an hour and we threw out ideas of what would make us happy. If we had all the money in the world, how would we live our lives? My brother thought he'd quit his job and work for charities. I think I'd see the rest of world. Do the "Easy Rider" thing. Smile and cheer up people wherever I went. Make pottery and painting and make music with local bands. Open a speciality record store, where I could greet people and introduce them to *GREAT* music and show them, well if you like X you should listen to Y. That is my dream. To own a record store. Hang out and listen to music and make music. H. was thinking it would be nice to be a cashier. Just collect money for coffee and sometimes people would bug you but at the end of the day, all you had to worry about was ringing up coffee.

Anyway, it made me feel better to know that I am not the only walking around and wondering, "Is this it?"

*~*

And then my friend A called Sunday morning from London. Checking in on me to see how my weekend was and telling me he thinks he found a place to live, in Wimbledon. "Why would you want to live in WIMBLEDON," I remarked snidely, "it's so out of the loop." He should have hung up on me then, but he didn't.

And he asked me if I was having another crisis and I told him about the conversation I just told you all about, and he said, "Partygirl, you and I will never be satisfied and that is why we will do great things. The people who are satisfied with the lives are the people destined for mediocrity. We take risks and we are hungry."

He has this thing, this bizarre thing since he was child, that he will be dead by 30. It started when he was in like 1st or 2nd grade and he thoroughly believes it now. I mean to the point where the will is done, and I have been named executor of his ashes. And we have discussed, so many times I can't even count it, exactly what I am to do with his ashes. There will be money for me to execute his last wish and it will require me to take a month or two from work and stop at several places all over the world. His parents have agreed to this.

I realize this is bizarre. It kinda started as joke, like our promise to marry, and then he did the will and the detailed instructions and I had to provide personal information and now I am the person.

So he is telling me how we are a different ilk of people (although I don't feel very diiferent)and that we will accomplish great things and he tells me that's part of the reason he's counting on dying by 30, because at his funeral he wants "them" to say that,"he was so young and with so much promise." This made me laugh. And then he told me I am brilliant and talented and will be incredibly successful. And I believed him for about a NY minute.

We hung up as he headed out to meet a new girl he had been set up with. He thought she might be the one.

He drunkenly called me about 6 hours later to let me know she wasn't the one. In fact, they didn't get along at all. He was a little snippy about it. And I had to laugh.

Because he's never satisfied.

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