Before I'm Too Far Gone...

"Funny the way it is- somebody's heart is broken it becomes your favorite song."

Where do I begin? I've been given a new load of responsibilities at work and while it means a change of work and more hours along with the opportunity to "prove" myself to management it's also bringing to light some changes in me that I could do without.

I knew there would be an issue when he passed me, clothes billowing around his body, the scent of a transient life flirting with noses of those in his wake. As I was assisting a customer my manager's voice came over the walkie "Could you turn down that radio?" I wasn't near it, I dodged over to it and there he was. Dancing and singing witha gap toothed grin. I stopped about five feet from him and mimed turning a knob. He turned it down and continued his celebration. I left to find my guest and not long afer the voice came over the walkie again, "Is it me or is that radio loud?!?" I responded "There's a gentleman dancing and singing and keeps turning it back up, it's honestly making me uncomfortable."

As the words left me I wanted to drop the walkie and go home. It wasn't me, he wasn't making me uncomfortable. I just wanted not to hear her voice come over the walkie again.

It hit me on the drive the home that night, maybe this guy just wanted to feel the way he did at some point in the past, what if he was stealing a bit of joy in a very low point in his life? I feel like a dick, I work around these "high-end"ish people and now in lieu of becoming more responsible I've had to trade a bit of personal comfort. I'm cheery (I've forced myself to become bubbly, it makes people feel more comfortable) even when I feel like I couldn't give a rats ass about anything and that the whole world is made of shit and that for some reason everyone still insists on making me wipe my shoes before I step into their own personal shit.

I feel better than I have in a long time alothough the pressure I'm getting at work to be some kind of customer service god send is nerve racking, I've left all of my other jobs for this very reason, I hate micro management- to have some dousche checking in and asking insultingly inane questions is so frustrating but I'm thankful to at least have a job and that's why I approached this one with optimism. That's why I'm changing, perhaps it's what is best. I'm just so afraid that this is the one of the first steps that will lead me to being a worker ant whose dreams were long ago forsaken.


I'm not entirely sure that this particular post had a reason... just some things I needed to say I guess.







Although this Rob Pattinson song seems completely random, it just happens to fit my mood and while I'm not a screaming fangirl I have to admit that I'd pre-order any /all cd's he'd say was in the works. Yea, people that's right he actually sounds better than he looks. According to screaming women across the planet an amazing feat.

This Little Blog O' Mine...

Although no one actually reads the truths and pains that I leave here in these physically non- existant pages I find great comfort in writing them. I can come here and read and re-read some of the moments and thoughts I've passed and all without the fear of anyone knowing me better for it.

Quite often I feel like I'm some sort of new mutated strand of depersonlized insanely sane crazy, if that makes any sense to you then, welcome home. Things are sort of getting better, although the achey knees have blossamed into twitchy (all over) muscles and part of me knows that it's probably something horrible like ALS or MS or schitzophrenia- you see nothing in my life ever just happens. I'm not the sort of person that ignores anything and unfortunately while it does me a world of good it also leaves me as sort of a hypochondriac and if anybody ever bothered to look that word up they'd know that it's just a person that is concerned (frequently) about their health. We should all be hypochondriacs, lol. Nothing would ever get done, except of course the 9, 10, 12, 3 and 5 o'clock hand washings.

My sister has had her baby, a brilliant baby girl and yes she's gifted (lol, don't you hate when *ss holes refer to their babies as gifted because they're drooling equally to left and right of toothless mouths?) Any how, we (my sisters and I) are determined that she should have a great future, one that we could only have imagined? One that we did imagine or hope for? I'm not entirely sure, I just hope she enjoys this little trip on planet earth.

Ahhh, yes about work. I've been doing my best which this time around (I'm not working with complete *ssholes and idiots) seems to be working for me, I've been moved into a department and position that will not pay more but will probably lead to more hours and therefore more money. Sounds good, I've got nothing else to look forward to really. I wanted to return to school this fall but the funding fell through and well my job barely feeds me so ... we'll see.

What else, what else... oh yes am making a pretty successful attempt to eat better and move more as I am trying to dodge the heat seeking missile known as Diabetes in my family. There seemed to be so many more things that I wanted to write about but they escape me now.

Rebooting and giving the Boot

My little sister is having a baby and my oldest sister is throwing a shower for her- everyone is doing something and I ended up paying for the food. God must have some kind of humor, on the day that I was to go shopping for the viddles with my older sister she fired on me. Almost out of nowhere came a hail of bullets concerning my personal life, what are my plans for the next six months, five years and why don't I have a boyfriend? Am I seeing someone special? What am I doing with my life because I'm going to look up and be 30 years old still not having accomplished anything.

That was it. My mood had packed up all of it's things, next stop Bitchville. I love my sister but come on, who does this? Just about every time she see's me, I don't really want to tell her that I don't care to share my plans with her because they're the one part of my life at this point that is mine and mine alone. Not to mention that I believe that my biggest accomplishment is that I'm still alive.

"You've been out of highschool for almost 5 years now and you haven't really accomplished anything." (in my head everyone runs for cover and the guy flipping burgers (we were sitting at a McDonalds inside a Walmart) shuts the grill flutes "Whelp! Time to go.") I see red. I just want to peel back her scalp and spit on her skull, here I am in horrible shape mentally, fiscally, emotionally and nearly physically (achey knees and enumerable cavities) and she's kicking me when I'm down. Long story short, she killed my party spirit well before the actual party. I don't get it- I go out of my way to be as beige as possible in these situations, you know not red (angry), not blue (sad) not purple (any apparent mixture of those emotions) and people just can't seem to realize that when someone just shuts down while you're speaking to them it probably isn't something that they care to discuss.

The baby shower was semi-successful. People showed up despite the fact that the Gods flushed an apparently massively overflowing toilet and the enitre street was under water. I think I'm done with her. I'm not currently speaking to my mother whom I overheard telling god knows who over the phone that I'm (I shit you not, this was the term she chose) "handicapped" because I still live at home at the absurdly old age of 22. I said f*ck it. I'm over this whole BEIGE phase, I've been letting people slide with their BS and I just can't bear it anymore. I'm going red all over their ehem... behinds.

Yeah, got to try and live solely for myself and let everyone else choke on their negativity.

Kabluey

I've not been having the best month but then who has, there aren't really enough hours to go around at work; there are other things that are the main occupants of my thought processes and much of them are attatched to a lack of cash. I know, I know money is a taboo subject but it's killing me. The stress is crushing, especially because I'm getting the "Pay for this and that or hit the bricks" at home and I would if I could but I really can't but nobody gives a _ _ _ _ and it's all just been festering. I was off a few days ago and I ended up having some loose cash (about $10) and thought "You know what, I've been under a lot of stress and I think I deserve to laugh". I went to Blockbusters and rented two movies 'Kabluey' and 'Bottleshock' and came home to watch them and as soon as I walked in she (my mother) started in on me about a couple of bills she wanted to me to pay. I told her that I didn't feel like talking about it just then, she proceeded to ramble on about how no one would be living in her house for free blah blah blah. I dismissed it, let it roll off my back the way I do with all of her drunken and unfortunately sometimes sober comments.

I put in Kabluey and opened my aged white cheddar popcorn and started watching, she sat in the dining area behind me and degraded me to someone on the other end of the telephone. Some random person was being told that I was a no good, lazy so and so. I am the one child (of 4) of my mother that still respects her (because it's the right thing to do) and this is what I get. Whenever her life is knee deep in bull _ _ _ _ she chews on somebody's ass and I'm usually a convenient target. Kabluey was so incredibly funny that I was blurting out tufts of laughter and then all of a sudden tears started flowing down my face. I couldn't stop the water works, I still laughed with the antics and beats of the movie but all of my supressed pain and utter sadness was falling out of my eyes. It was hours before I was able to stop crying, my entire face was swollen.

The irony of it all... my emotions erupted while watching a movie called Kabluey.

Woe is Miko and the Orientation of Tomorrow.

Yes, you read correctly 'Woe is Miko'. I was watching Roadhouse for the one thousandth, seven-hundred and seventy first time last night and a preview for some soon to come thriller and thought, "What ever happened to that creepy kid from The Pet Semetery?" (I think that's the way it's listed) I never even knew his name, so I googled and searched and there it was Miko John Hughes, yes son of John Hughes. I'd always thought that he must have been about thirty-something by now. Nope. Miko Hughes is 23, uh huh, that creepy kid is now a creepy man. Well, I'm not entirely sure about the creepy part however his Myspace and Blog on this very site (Woeismiko) is headed by a picture of what I can only assume is a 19 to 21 year old Miko with his tongue trapped between a very large pair of sharp scissors, by his own hand no less. I didn't take the time to sift through all of his postings but those that I did indicate two things- 1) He's a Libertarian, oh how shocking! Not really, it's actually quite fitting. Young ex-hollywood-er has deep thoughts and knows best, typical. Now, for those out there who suspect that I might be insulting Hughes, this is not so. Afterall he hasn't fallen drunken out of a cab or made a (Oh God, why are they airing this at all) made for T.V. movie or given a poor performance. It's just that, from what I could discern from his eventually abandoned blogs, he seems to feel that he is quite interesting. This is all at once intriguing and repulsive. Intriguing because we all believe that we are interesting and anyone with the berries to say so as emphatically as he must be, right? Repulsive because well, no one likes a boastfulbilly, ha. 2) He's normal. Just like me and you, out here blogging because we think "Somewhere, somehow, someone loves to read about my life because theirs is so like and altogether unlike mine. The magic in this is that from what I read the blogs were written truly to be read and taken in to let sit in the mind where as these days celebrity blogs and I use the term (celebrity) loosely are just semi-personalized press releases.

Okay, that was just the result of one of my many ponderings. Perhaps next time we'll find out "What ever happened to James Avery?". No, I'm kidding. Nobody cares. Just kidding, perhaps the better question is where is Obama taking America and are we there yet?

As noted in the title, my orientation for my new yob is tomorrow. A little antsy, on the whole I'd say I'm ready to get back to work but there is a part of me that will miss all of the nothing that there is to be done. At least this way I'll probably be more apt to workout, gotta get this resting heart rate lower. The real beast to tackle is the post exercise resting heart rate. Here I go again on my own, driving down the only road I've ever known...like a twister I was born to walk ...

Terra Firma Two- The Happy Go-Lucky Interviewee

Alright, so I filled in and submitted and online application Saturday, recieved a call Sunday afternoon for an interview on Wednesday. It's a small, not-so-great paying, retail yob. (Yes, I said YOB) At this point after literally almost a hundred applications I was sycked, I just need a paycheck. I am a cynic nearly to the bone, I mean there's skin, tendons, arteries, veins, muscle, sarcasm and then you hit bone- I'm a real Eyore type. I thought, what the hell, I'm just gonna smile and say the things I know to be true and be as honest and empty headed as possible. Not going to over think it, it's just a job interview; worst case scenario: I don't get the job and I go into the red in bank accounts and overdraw on my credit card trying to keep my phone turned on to hear about possible employment oppourtunities and end up on the roof of my parents' house threatening to jump. It's about a 12 foot fall, I wouldn't die but maybe I would hit my head hard enough that I didn't remember the state of my life. Ha.

I was to go in at 10:15. I got into the area at about 9:30 and decided that I hated what I was wearing (borrowed) but that if I bought clothes and didn't get the job that I would have just spent a crucial lump of bill money.

Whatever, I couldn't go in there feeling like I looked a little rag-tag. I bought shoes, which I decided against after buying and walking around in and found a stellar pair of wide-leg trousers for about twelve bucks. In black from head to toe with 4/5 inch heels and a cool hair style, a little punk a little kitch. It felt right and above all it was comfortable.

The process was a little odd, first I had to take a personality/ math/ product test to make sure I wasn't a dim psycho and then there were the interviews. Two total, the first with a "team member" who seemed a bit bored and just sort of going through the motions who only livend up after I told her that the one time I was asked to perform a task and couldn't really "get into" it was when I had to climb a 16 foot ladder to change light bulbs, I have a slight issue with heights that are affected by gusts of wind. Lol. I got a laugh, I thought "My foot is in the door". The second was with whom I can only guess was the Store Team Leader/ Manager, she asked me about my last place of employment (a grocery store) I won't say the name but I'll say it means party and rhymes with Siesta. She said "I don't like _ _ _ _ _ _ it always has a weird smell." I grinned, "I know that smell, I don't know where it comes from but I know it well." I was given an option for either daytime Salesfloor/ Cashiering or overnight stocking. Let me say this- I love overnight stocking, it was my first job and if it hadn't been for the horrible work environment it would probably still be my current job. My last two where mainly Cashier positions and I'm not too keen on being responsible for other people's money so I said "Overnight would be really convenient."

Here is the shocker- she said "Really, I think you would do well on the sales floor, you seem like you want to talk and you're so cheery. If you went overnight I don't I'd ever see you again, I think you might work for a few days and never come back. There's a certain type of people that work overnight, kind of zombie like, don't say hi when you pass them."

I laughed and said "Oh, yes, this sort of person" and put my head down and feined stocking. "Exactly!" she said. "I don't know, I love to stock things", I said. (Yeah, I know it sounds strange but it's a mostly solitary job and eight to twelve hours of listening to my ipod while getting some much needed exercise and being paid for it not to mention that meant that I could do school during the day without worrying about clashing schedules. That would be cool.)

She really seemed to want me to choose daytime so I said "Okay". She assured me that I'd get the chance to see they type of work the stockers did and if I preferred to switch a bit later, she'd arrange it. Cool beans.

It's the lowest pay I've ever had but it's also the first job offer after my recent termination (I'll get that in the next post) so I'm game. My only concern from this point on "What will the environment be like?" I was told it was a family/ team oriented invironment but I also heard that at Wal-mart and ... it was B.S. I hope the other employees are friendly. I hope I have fun and can smile, do you hear that I have hope. Is that the sun...

I took my drug test that day and could not stop laughing, I'd had this weird dream the night before about needing to borrow urine because I'd eaten a Pot Sandwhich, yeah I've never heard of a pot sandwhich but what the hell.

My sister went with me and there was this guy there, he had these scars on the backs of his legs, my eyes became as big as saucers. What a deuschbag, he'd had calve-implants. He dinged the bell for service and we giggled like school girls, he asked "What's funny?" We continued like we hadn't heard him, where is that guy? Calve-implant guy are you reading this? Do have calve-implants?

One Small Step for...

So with the drooling economy and a genuinely ill job choice I find myself unemployed and walking back through the hell fire that is interviews and self-doubt. I dsilike the process but it definitely gives me the oppourtunity to look at things in a different light and to perhaps approach my next job in such a different way that I don't even begin to feel the malaise that sets in after the intial period of employment.

When fist begining a new job, I'm eager and so completely purposed for gaining knowledge and being an asset to the company and then I find that there is some sort of previously established heirarchy that must be suffered through and as with most other things in life, you must "play the game". There will be clique-y employees and surley co-workers and I'll have to tell myself repeatdly that I'm not here for them and they don't pay my bills and so on and so forth. The truth- I'm absolutely frightened at the idea of working on this job and not being able to make any headway. I would be delighted to find that this new postion is my niche and that I end up holding and flourishing with this job. Yes, at the ripe old age of 22 I've come to realise that the mortgage/rent is a good enough reason to be comitted to a 9 to 5.

I just want a steady paycheck and a work environment that I love, I don't believe that I'm asking alot but I do think that up until now I've been afraid to admit that to myself or anyone else. I'm tired of living at home with my parents and not being able to walk into my own place and see that things are just the way I've left them, not to mention I'd like to feel like I deserve to have someone waiting on me when I get there. I think I'm growing up, I can't be sure but this is certainly new terra firma.

Hearts on Fire- "the cause"

I've always envied atheletes, bodies that behave as well oiled machines are undeniably interesting. The brain running the whole operation is another matter all together, so many people these days are so very concerned with their appearence that it seems a wasted effort to function under anything other than a tanning lamp.
I've decided that I can't wait anylonger to start doing the things that haunt me, rock climbing, running, and pull-ups. I crave these things but have never for one reason or another attempted them. Being over weight was never an issue until I realized that most people are not like me, they really do work a person from the ouside in; I can't blame people for having preferances, afterall it's a god given right but to write people off at a glance because of anything other than finding out that he/she is inhuman is unnerving.

I'm sure I've experienced it at some point or another though I have no recollection of such an event but I have seen people turn and look and comment about a friend or co-worker's weight and health. I was working at the Zoo one summer and I was in line behind this guy and his girlfriend (both slim but not athletic) and he began to tell her what was wrong with the family in front of them, that because the mother and father and their friends were over weight the children would be over weight and that it was going to be a huge cycle of the lazy begetting the lazy and hanging out with the lazy; that they would always hang around people who were fat because then there wouldn't be reason to lose weight, no challenge, no need to be competitive. The girl was quiet and you could tell their relationship, whatever it was would not last- she realized at that moment that he was an *sshole and that if she stayed with him she would always feel like he was judging her.

Hearing that guy say all of those things about people that I wasn't so far from being would have crushed me had I not already developed a thick skin. The year before that I went out on a date with this guy, we'll call him C.C. He was pudgy and a bit shorter than I and several times during the evening he said "I've dated big women before" as though I was some sort of curiosity and we began to dicuss our hobbies and I had been a runner for almost a year and when I told him that I liked to going jogging daily, he said "Yeah, right". I don't remember much about him but I absolutely remember that I was broken by that, that this guy who was no where near my ideal anything was so ... I haven't found a word for it, even after all this time. I wanted to throw my drink in his face but he had driven and I didn't want to have to explain this to anyone. I suffered through the date feeling like I was a servant eating at the master's foot, I was so wounded I couldn't eat and was beginning to feel sick. He scraped his plate clean and waited for me to finish, when I said I was done (with most of the my food still on my plate) he said "Oh, come on. I know you eat more than that." I lost something very important that night, a little piece of dignity. I felt so- angry. I was angry with myself, with my parents, with my life, with my feet for not walking out on him, with my heart for feeling like it was going to explode and chards of intense angst would puncture everything for lightyears.

I've never been serious about any guy, I can't really say why. I've always chosen men who I really have nothing in common with and could see no sort of future. I know that if Dr. Phil were here he'd say "Now, you know why. You don't want to get attatched and furthermore you don't feel like you deserve to be loved."<-------That is where Dr. Phil is wrong, I deserve to be loved but have the feeling or fear rather that there will never be anyone who "gets" me that would find me "compatible" (read:thin) with their lifestyle. I'm just venting, rambling, expressing the things that I carry with me during the day that squeeze my heart at night. I'll never clear the mess that is my emotional psyche in one post but I must admit there seems to be a little more breathing room.

A Rock and A Hard Place (Interview No. 1 with Terri)

- "Tell me your story. That's why you're here, isn't it?"

• Crackheads.
  
  

-"Crackheads?"

• I always thought you had to be some kind of idiot, extremely weak or having a very bad day to try crack.
  
  

I mean thats what I thought until I realized that sometimes you just get bored. Never did I really understand how much boredom hurts until my 20's. I was never the marijuana type, it made me super paranoid; first time I got high... the second time anyway I ended up bleaching everything (including the last joint). No. The whole smoking thing made it worse- I'd be freaking out about what I was doing to my lungs. Now, pills I can do. Pills I did do. Not the uppers though, that sh*t is just annoying. People on uppers remind me of every #$%^sucker I ever met in highschool- entirely too excited to be where ever the f*@# they they were for no f*@#ing reason. First time I ever took Xanax I couldn't get a bad feeling.

-"Why'd you take it?"

• The day before I had to pick up my friend Crista from her friend's place. I'd only known Crista for about five months, we worked together a ###-Mart; she was stuck at some sh*tty apartments on the north side and it was pretty late. She was outside drinking with some guys when I got there, Crista loved drinking. Now that I think about it, she loved almost everything. Except driving, she couldn't do it, it scared her too much. I pulled up dreading the coming situation. I knew she would want me to chill for a while and I'm not really comfortable around guys until I know what they are expecting. They weren't particularly ugly but still I really don't know in those situations. I got out of the car, tired from the day's work and completely aware of the eyes on me. I'm bigger than most girls but I have more shape than most too, top that off with a baby face and moderatley severe intelligence and well... I'm an anomaly. Most people think that us girls above a double zero will fall all over any guy that'll have them. I'm almost the exact opposite- I just don't trust people. So any way she introduced everyone, Juan, Greg, James, Mike and some guy that called himself Kraze. We managed some small talk and I didn't get the feeling that Crista was ready to leave. Whatever, I was off the next couple of days. Crista was the type that liked for guys to like her, almost needed it. Of course she became overtly "flirty" as the drinking went on, making it that much more awkward for me. I didn't know if she had plans to get with one of these guys but I wasn't interested. Kraze kept making little comments about wanting to move to a quieter spot to talk. I politely refused and I thought that was that. Crista kept saying it was okay if I wanted to, that she didn't mind. Yeah, she had plans for one of these guys, b*tch, she should have just hooked up with whoever and never called me over there. Kraze was offended and embarrased to be turned down in fron of his boys so he flopped the race card on me "Oh what, mulatto's don't like mexicans?" I shrugged it off and everyone just let it go and continued the conversation but Kraze couldn't get over himself. See he was kind of pretty with an okay body- any woman's dream I guess. A few hours went by and everybody was about as drunk as they could get without falling down so I suggested we call it a night. Kraze asked me what it was about him that I didn't like, I told him he just wasn't my type. He grabbed my wrist, stuck his hand in my back pocket and suggested that men weren't my type. That was it for me, I pulled the knife I'd seen him playing with earlier from his belt loop and in the flick of my wrist had him up against my car, blade fixed on his windpipe. I told him "For the last time, it's not me, it's you- you are not my type! I do not find you attractive, don't touch me and don't ever try me again." His boys were all laughing and Crista was quick to console him, was it him that she had wanted to get at? All of a sudden nobody was laughing, they were all looking at some dude standing in one of the open doorways. I couldn't make out his face but what a body! He was at least six-two and built with what had to be two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. He walked over and one of the guys explained what was going on, he laughed and told Kraze he knew his attitude would get him cut one day. I closed the knife and put it in my pocket as he introduced himself. His name was Jonas but everybody called him Atlas because of his look. I had to pee so I ask if I could use his bathroom and he showed me the way, walking through his place I caught glimpses of his life. The Virgin of Guadeloupe was sprinkled here and there, there were weights and a treadmill. Everything was very neat, automatically I thought- girlfriend. Damn. In the restroom he put the seat down and left me to it. Even the bathroom was spotless, his girl must clean hardcore. When I was washing my hands I had a thought- the medicine cabinet. I had to peek; shaving cream, after shave, floss, aspirin but no tampons or pads or PMS relievers, make-up, nothing. The towel cabinet was about the same- no sign of a woman. I dried my hands and lifted the seat, afterall he'd done it for me. When I opened the door he was sitting on his bed folding clothes and I was a little taken aback. "Wow, a man folding clothes, neatly!" He said real men fold clothes and that he could use some help. Why not, it would give me a chance to see what he was about. I sat on the floor against the wall across from him so I could get a good look at him. Georgeous. Strong masculine features, good skin, nice tapered hair cut and cleanly shaved. Grrrrrr. Beautiful brown eyes. Oh, I felt so out of my league. Handsome, rockin' body, neat and I thought...gay, but I could hope. He didn't have a girlfriend, he'd dumped her a couple of months ago- Not gay! He worked in construction, didn't have kids and was training to be in the next years world's strongest man competition.

-"You thought he was too good for you?"

• No but people tend to be that way you know? They figure that they look better and so they are better. People seem to forget that not everyone sees things the same. I once dated a fat guy, tall and wide. He was funny.

-"So you're saying that you don't judge people?"

• I wish I could say that. The truth is I was trying on the fat guy like you try on all the guys you date but don't intend to marry. I'd always thought that I could love anyone, I mean anyone at all despite them only having one eye or half a big toe or anything. That's the worst lie I ever told myself.

-"So you didn't love the fat man?"

• No. But not because he was fat. Because he was selfish and cheap and an alcoholic and desperate.

-"He wouldn't pay your way and had a drink every once in a while, that sounds bad on your part."

• Oh no, he wanted to give me money and pay my way through school and take me shopping. All those things that desperate people will trade for company and the illusion of love and companionship. That's what really disgusted me. He laughed about being able to find the best steaks at a bargain and drank bottle after bottle of "moderately priced" beer.

-"He wanted to be a sugar daddy of sorts to you then?"

• To me, maybe to anybody that would have him. I didn't like him. He was older than me, I was 21 and he was 30. I got the feeling that he thought he knew what was best for me but not in the way that a parent knows best but like a manager or something. Like he was always trying to cut a deal with me. That always made me feel like he was seedy, like he was preying on me.

-"So it had nothing to do with him being fat?"

• It was the total package that was unattractive to me, a big scarred, greedy and deceitful man coming toward you naked pushes you to run harder and faster than any energy drink ever could. The whole situation was mind boggling.

-"Yet, you were there by choice.

• Maybe. I don't really know.

-"Our time's up for today, I'll see you again Wednesday at 12:30."