Then there’s the church thing. I’m not averse to religion; I even believe in it sometimes, but not with that herd-o-sheep mentality that Christians are so widely criticized for; that we’re-right-and-you’re-wrong garbage. Shit, I never subscribed to the beliefs THAT much. I just liked it because it was about loving your neighbor and peacefulness and doing things for the common good. It was about living as a society rather than a thrown-together group of individuals who hate each other. I’d read it since I was a wee little kid, I knew what it was about, and I liked it. But once we started to get into the whole queer-is-sin crock o’ shit, I pretty much mentally bailed out. I guess I’m more a believer in the ideology of the New Testament, rather than in Christianity in general. I don’t care if Jesus was the son of God or if he walked on water or if the communion wafers (yum yum) turn into his flesh when the priest blesses them or whatnot (which seems a little perverse to me, but then, I see Catholicism as 90% repression and 10% dictating how to let out that repressed energy); I think all this interdenominational cattiness is what Jesus was against in the first fucking place.

So anyway, I couldn’t talk to Ali about my problems with religion, although she knew I had a problem with the anti-gay thing since, after all, I did tell her I’m bi. (I don’t like calling myself bi either, but that’s another thing entirely.) I feel like I can’t talk to her about this stuff, either; I feel like she’s morally superior, or something, and that every time I do something wrong, like flirt, or do something irresponsible, or make up an excuse to get out of doing something, she and the Christian Coalition are frowning down on my blond, bisexual, not-a-true-believer head. And I hate that feeling. So I’ve been spending less and less time with Ali, unconsciously at first, but even now that I realize what I’m doing I’m not going to stop. I’m still friends with her, but we’re not half - shit, not a quarter - as close as we were last summer. I don’t particularly like this development, but that’s how it is and I’m not apologizing for being who I am and thinking what I think and believing what I believe. Sorry. No, wait, I’m not sorry at all.

Then there’s Dan. Dan and I have grown closer than any other friendship I have right now - and definitely closer than I’ve been to any other guy. We’re not going out, although that’s only because I don’t want to, and it doesn’t make much difference except that we don’t have a physical relationship. I haven’t really been sexually attracted to anyone since I broke up with Brad, who I was hopelessly, crazily attracted to. Now that that relationship has fizzled and died, it’s like there’s something inside me that’s broken, that won’t let me want anyone that much again. At least, not yet. Maybe what people say about getting over relationships - that it takes twice as long as the relationship lasted - is true. In that case, I’ve got another year to go. Meanwhile, I’ve got Dan. Dan is sexually attracted to me, which is flattering to know, but I don’t let it bug me. The nice thing about being friends with Dan is that we both know exactly where we stand with each other, and we can tell each other anything, and we discuss all of our weird thoughts and ask each other weird questions about the opposite sex and families and relationships and what’s going on in our lives and all that stuff. I know I can curl up and put my head in his lap and he isn’t going to think the wrong thing. We spend the majority of our free time together, or on the phone with each other, which sounds a little sickeningly "together"; but when we start to get sick of each other’s company, we realize it and spend some time apart from each other. And we never stay mad at each other very long - I don’t think either of us could stand it. I think it works out perfectly, because I’m more of a one-best-friend kinda gal than a group-o-friends one. I want someone who’ll be there for me whenever I need them, and vice versa. Someone for whom I am the most important person in his/her life, and vice versa (this is true of Dan - he is, with the exception of my family, the most constant person in my life at the moment). When I go away to college, he’s going to be left here and I think that scares him more than anything.

What’s also nice about having Dan as a friend (and almost constant companion) is that guys don’t hit on me as much (and Katie can attest to the fact that I do get hit on by random street vendors and stuff - right Katie?), or stare at me when I’m driving or walking down the street. He’s better even than a can of pepper spray.

Another weird relationship twist that’s cropped up this summer is the rekindling of my friendship with Brad. Brad, the old flame… rekindling… ha ha. I’m so witty I crack myself up. (caroline, get a grip!) (sorry!) Anyway, a week ago I was driving downtown with Katie, and Brad drives by in the other direction, hangs out his window, and yells "I’ve got to talk to you!" Oooookay. I get home, throw down my shit on my bed, and the phone rings. Who could it be? Who else. The boy hasn’t spoken to me in almost a year, and he calls me up and offers me a job. Three weekdays plus the weekend, thirty dollars an hour. I was like, shit, tell me when to be there. So a very short & informal interview later, I ended up working for Brad’s boss, Erard. He’s a funky old British guy who runs his own market research company. He needed someone who could type like a speed demon, and I fit the bill. So I spent five days typing up Erard’s interviews as he conducted them, getting free food and soda, working thirteen hours a day (13 hours a day, $30 an hour… you do the math) and generally enjoying myself as much as possible when cooped in an office building until late at night. Hell, it’s better than the slave labor I’m supposed to be doing now. At least that job was interesting. So anyway, back to Brad. Since Brad works for this guy and got me the job in the first place, I see him fairly often now. When I went for my second interview, where I met Erard (it wasn’t an interview, really, it was Erard explaining what the job was to me for an hour - paid), when I went out to the driveway I started talking to Brad. Of course, I didn’t make it past the driveway. I made it about as far as Brad’s car and then we started talking. And talking. And talking. We made our way to my truck, where I changed my clothes while we kept talking. And then we sat in the back of the truck and kept talking. This lasted for over an hour, but seemed like a long time, since the longest conversation we’d had before that - after we broke up - was about thirty seconds long. This is weird. This is exciting. So periodically I’d see him at work, although I got there long before he woke up and got back long after he’d left, and we’d talk. Once Erard called him from where we were doing our interviews, and put me on the phone with him. Mistake. We ended up talking, again, for an hour. One of the clients was going in and out of the room periodically, and must have heard me laughing and teasing him, because afterwards she asked me who that was.

All I can say is, it’s a bit weird. It’s weird that I look at him now and am not at all sexually attracted to him, whereas before I couldn’t keep my hands off of him. It’s weird that something suddenly clicked and now we get along so well, when for a year he didn’t even have the courage to talk to me. I intimidated him, he says. The whole thing is strange.

The other people in my life this summer include Katie, who I see periodically and whose continuing adventures in life never cease to amaze me; Dina ‘n Jo, who I saw more of at the beginning of the summer than anyone (except Dan, of course), and life was peachy; and Eric, who, if I may be so blunt, was disappointingly self-centered. Girls like it when you at least pretend to care if they’re enjoying themselves. I think he knows what I mean there. Anyway, life’s been interesting.

This brain-cleansing experience was brought to you by my sheer lack of motivation in all things library-related right now. If you didn’t like it, go stick your finger up your butt. It’s not here for your benefit.

Bork!