bloomington fades
I feel like closing this screen right now, and logging off. Eating some shit and then showering before the Super Bowl.
I'm ready to leave Bloomington. Not that I was ever really ready to arrive here. But I was ready to leave NY. Although last night I wished I was there, singing karaoke with Matthew. Riding the 6 with Asit. Drunk dials are shining moments.
I wonder when I'm going to stop being ready to leave a place. You people who have been somewhere for a long time, how do you do it?
There was a party last night. Everyone made something chocolate. 30 people showed up all with the most gorgeous, time-consuming, chocolate-in-every-fashion. Decadent. I drank a lot of wine and met a geologist from Chattanooga. We have the same favorite bar there. Jason is from Soddy Daisy and we talked up the Tennessee Valley.
We talked about the view of the city-on-the-river from the I-24 ridge-cut.
I was very ready to leave Tennessee when I got on that plane to NY.
The catcher for me, I guess, is that I have at least found the companion who I'll never be ready to leave, regardless of where we cast anchor. Dating long-distance is a bitch, but having a long-distance fiance is excrutiating. I feel so needy some times because I start crying and telling him that he's too routine and not open enough. He falls into patterns, you know. No fault, even though it makes me feel like a bitch to ever even bring it up. The only reason why I do is to prevent me from feeling resentment by having un-voiced anything. None of this would happen if we were face-to-face, though. None of this phone factor to fuck things up.
But I'm not a nag, and vindication came in the form of him being an INTJ according to Myers Briggs.
So I want to leave Indiana, and to seal the deal on my urgency I've applied for work at a new sports bar that's opening soon. I should rake in college-boy cash by the bushel. I'm a good waitress. Damn good. And I've got a killer ass.
That's beside the point, though.
The point is that serving buffalo wings to SUV driving Maroon 5 fans is only going to induce a greater urgency to blow this joint.
I need South Carolina. Hot as fuck, they tell me. I need sea food. Sushi, shrimp, and muscles. I need sea gulls and a face that's a shade darker than my (killer) ass. Oh, and I need that brown-eyed, square-jawed, dimpled-cheek, bow-legged McWap. Number one priority in my life, that boy.
Seriously: we made an agreement that our relationship is the number one priority for both of us. We shook on it. A deal's a deal.
