The Other Half passed yet another exam required for his teaching certification. This accomplishment has secured his position for next year and makes moving above ground more than just a fantasy. My job is never secure, however, escape is critical. I've avoided this topic during the rare occasions that I actually have an opportunity for social interaction. I do this for fear of the unknown and the annoying way people grill me about what I'm looking for. A refrigerator box at this juncture would suffice.
The above leads nicely into my social life or lack thereof. I've almost completely lost contact with the outside world. Beyond my nuclear family, I have one person who I actually spend time with, not counting work related gatherings. The majority of my social contact is texting with X, spotty text conversation with a few friends and a four hour IM chat with "First" (see post "Classic Girl"). Despite the negative tone in this paragraph; when I consider this reality, my initial thought is "Oh fucking well." I've grown accustom to my pseudo-isolation and self-involved lifestyle. It's not exactly what I want, but to quote Dwight Hansen "You can want in one hand and shit in the other, and see which one fills up first."
Douchebag/Boss is transitioning out of his title. We seem to have settled our differences only to have him abandon his post to take on other duties within the agency. At first I was resistant to the appointed New Boss. That's what I do. I'm weary of change.
*Side note. As I was falling asleep last night I had this thought: I am a peanut M&M. I have a crispy outer shell. I can be harsh, cynical and guarded. Underneath, I'm actually pretty sweet, soft and forgiving. Once you get through all that, you're either going to love me or have a severe adverse reaction.
New B joined myself and six other coworkers for dinner at one of my favorite places. As it turns out, she has been made well aware of my strained relationship with Douchebag and God knows what else. This worried me. Three rounds of $2 margaritas later, I can only hope we came to a mutual positive opinion of one another. Let it be mentioned, the evening resulted in me attending the last day of school with a slight hangover. That's the stuff of a mature and responsible role model.
The Greatest, now 18 year old, graduated last Friday as only he could. Anxiety and the lack of true family are his relentless demons. Fifteen minutes before graduation I helped him into his cap and gown and reiterated what to expect and what to do. Reluctantly, he left me to march with his class. The ceremony went well and he proudly accepted his empty diploma folder. After its completion he found me and we went to collect his transcripts and diploma from guidance. We now enter a meltdown of epic proportions. What guidance counselor tells a kid whose yearbook, cap and gown were purchased by faculty, that he will not receive his diploma until he pays his $40 class dues? Are you kidding me? Literally and figuratively, it all went in the trash and he was gone. I scrambled to pay their fucking dues, went dumpster diving and delivered his well earned diploma. Surprisingly, his cracked out guardian repaid me, hugged me a little too tight and the evening ended somewhat well. Actually, it ended quite well, due to my getting drunk once again, this time with members of the National Guard. Someday, maybe, I will tell you about my boyfriend, but that's a story for another time.
We now come to the final note worthy event of June. I ran the 6th annual 4 mile Skip's Run. solo. I was terrified, excited, and exhausted. "First" had me up until 1am deep in a conversation that had been on a 13 year hiatus. Unfortunately, my anxiety and lack of sleep got the best of me for a portion of the race. From the start I compared myself to others and pushed myself to run harder than I'm capable of. I completed the first mile in just under seven minutes. Due to my need to "keep up" I damn near killed myself in the process. Just shy of mile two, I was briskly walking and fighting back tears of self-loathing. Packs of people ran past me, including a rather large woman whose gelatinous ass appeared to be fighting her every step of the way. I was convinced I was last and struggled to purge my self-deprecating thoughts. Finally, I sucked up my pride, found a woman with a pace I could match and in true NASCAR fashion, drafted my way to the finish line. I did not finish last. With eight people behind me, I finished the four miles in 47 minutes and 37 seconds. As it turns out, I cut a minute off each of my miles compared to my Shamrock Shuffle time. There's something to be said in that.
With that all said, I'm feeling hopeful that there are good things to come. My daughter is in an amazing stage of life and every day is an adventure. The summer job is only a week away, although far from my favorite place on Earth, I know it's going to be OK. I'm not going to venture a guess on the living conditions, whatever happens, I'll let you all know when it does. In August I will be running a half marathon relay with two of my coworkers. Then, hopefully, it's back to high school. I'd say, my summer is pretty well booked. "Beyond that, I'm going to have to check my calendar."
