Picking And Choosing in The Stuff That's Not Interesting But Is The Most Interesting Stuff I'll Write

Each time I think I’ve made up my mind on where I’m going between the two choices I’ve given myself, life throws me another curveball and tips the scale toward the other. It’s almost borderline parody right now. I mean, things aren’t panning out here in any way possible, I’ve tried to find ways to make it accommodating but it’s just getting slammed in my face.

My mother has started her job and I’ve had to become her tutor in how to operate twenty-first century technology. It’s fine, if a bit frustrating because she just keeps calling me and asking me stupid fucking things. I’m at work and I get a call, “I need to add page numbers to this document, how do I do it?” Are you fucking kidding me? There’s a Help option on the menu that can tell you how to do that… “Where is the Help menu?” UUUUUGGGHHHHHHH

Lio and I have been spending more time together. I like him. I feel less-stressed when I’m around him. Whatever.

There was a straight guy flirting with me the other night, he had ditched his friends who were girls (that he had met that night) to wander with me. He noticed down the street that she started getting into a fight with some guy. I told him we should just go and I’d get him a cab home (I’d go to mine, he’d go to his). He was holding my hand but abruptly let go to go defend the girl. Within 60 seconds, he was knocked out on the blacktop.

Once everyone left, I stood over his unconscious body and felt sorry for this poor man who would rather be punched out than hold a man’s hand. My cab pulled up and I left him there. There was nothing else I could do for him; he made his choice.