And I Can Tell Just What You Want

December 18, 2012

The year is winding down so quickly now, and it’s kind of frightening.  I’m leaving in 6 days, and I feel incredibly unprepared.  And yet, I feel like there’s not much else I can do.  There’s all the packing I have to do, but can’t really do yet because not all my clothes are clean.  Then there’s all the knick-knacks that I need to write down so I can remember to pack later.  Then there’s all this paperwork I have to do for work and financial stuff.  Not to mention bills I have to pay, and people I have to pay.  There’s a bunch of shit I feel like I need to print out too.  Blah.  It’s a mess.  I think what’s making it so bad is the fact that traveling is still not easy, and I still can’t recall all the procedures of traveling, so I constantly feel like I’m in the unknown– which is very disconcerting.  But what else can I do?  I’m already constantly trying to remember if I’m forgetting to do anything critical, so I don’t get stranded at some place with no idea of how to proceed.  The only incredibly small bit of solace I have is in the fact that I traveled to, through, and from Italy just fine last year, and I did it with no prior experience.  So this should hopefully be a little easier, if not as easy.
In the working world, not much has changed.  A new girl has started working there recently, and am already a bit smitten by her.  She reminds me a lot of the girl I liked in college.  I hope to god it doesn’t end up the same way, though.  I’m trying not be distracted by her, which seems to be somewhat easy for once.  Maybe I’ve gotten to the point where I can control these childish high school-like emotions.  Moreover, I think I’m also finally starting to come down from the high of liking my boss in that way.  I mean, sure, I still think she’s attractive.  But it’s no where near as distracting as it once was.  And when I say distracting, it was really, really distracting.  I realized this today when I was looking her in her eyes while we were talking about a project.  This time–aside from the thought I had that I was amazed I could completely focus–I could completely focus.  I suppose my ability to think through everything she has said with only half my brain power dedicated to processing her words is pretty impressive.  Imagine what I can do now that I can focus completely.  Anyways, back to the new girl.  We chatted a bit, and she actually invited me to her NYE party, which she described as “actually not that small.”  I thought that was pretty cool, considering how we barely know each other.  It goes without saying that I do wish that I could go, but I have Amsterdam to go to.  Could be a fun way to get to know her better, but I’m sure there’ll be other opportunities.  I do work with her, after all.
On a somewhat relevant note, I like how some females that I know think I’m a good guy.  It feels disgusting and uncomfortable to have to type those words about myself, so luckily no one I know will actually hear me say it.  But the point I’m trying to get across is that I’m a “great guy.”  Yet, what good has that done for me?  I was joking with my boss about a professional event we both had planned on going to, that she could be my wing woman.  She said something along the lines of:  “More like your mother. ‘MyName is a great guy.  Any girl would be lucky to date him.'”  I realize that the “great guy” bit was not the focus of her comment, but I think she still meant it.  I don’t mind that she meant it.  And yet, I sometimes loathe the fact that I think she meant it.  “Great guy” just means so many different things.  More often than not, it just feels synonymous with “generic.”  Then, in an email to an old(er) classmate that I haven’t talked to in a while, she said in response to my happy email I sent her about my job (she asked):  “[…] couldn’t have happened to a better guy.”  I suppose I cashed in my Good Guy credits when I got this sweet job.  Maybe another 24 years of not being a complete prick to everyone will finally get me a relationship with a girl who won’t make me go batty.


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