Why not use the theme song for Star Wars?

Tomorrow I graduate from college. I'm excited, but only allow myself to feel a small portion of that excitment.
I do that. I deny myself the full extent of whatever goal/milestone/event I've accomplished.....I don't know why I do this. At least I'm aware of it.

I don't want to sound like I am not happy to have reached this goal or that it isn't a big deal. I know millions would love the opportunity to get a college degree and can't. So I don't mean to sound ungrateful - I am.
But I realize that I only have seconds where I allow myself to live in the moment of some success. I wonder if it's because I fear getting too lost in the moment or becoming too filled with pride.

One of the things I try to do is to be aware of what life is like for others - how my words or actions will impact others. This sounds like it takes up more time than it actually does. It isn't hard to consider how your actions might harm or help someone or something else.

I don't want to forget that I am and have been able to live, travel, think, speak and just be as a result of many people in the world, over time, realtives and strangers. Everyone does not have the same opportunities or access and I try to remember that - I don't want to forget how blessed and lucky I am and have been in life.
I start graduate school in August, something I am also quietly celebrating.

The commencement ceremony is tomorrow morning. I am not attending.
I don't see the point and didn't want my family to spend a ton of money flying into Austin. I don't feel the need to walk across a stage and have people see me get my fake diploma (the real one comes later in the mail).
The most important thing to me is that I've done it....I've graduated and gotten into graduate school. I think I'll walk for the next graduation, but I keep imagining that moment with the music from Star Wars rather than the traditional music.
Maybe that just means my brain needs a break.

One or the other

Men. They don't know how priviledged they are in life. They haven't a clue. And sometimes I want to thump them on the head for that - being clueless.

Why? Because I have one emotion or the other every few weeks. And. I. hate. it.

I can't control it. I have learned to recognize it though. The emotions? Oh, either sadness or anger. Not your run of the mill slightly sad or slighty pissed feelings either. I'm talking full on rage or hysterical crying.

And no, I've no mental issues - well, just the normal ones that I admit to freely. (I talk to myself, I hate warm milk, I pretend not to speak english sometimes.) So why am I having either crying fits or fits of anger?
It's my body forcing me to go through insane changes including bloat, cramping, soreness and those wacky emotions. And men have no idea how blessed they are in this regard. (Note: I would not trade being a woman - seriously, we are smarter. Sorry boys, it's true.)

So when I find that I'm crying over a cat food commerical, which has happened, and my cats are just staring at me ball....I know what time it is. Or when I feel like I want to punch someone, (like the freak who kept driving past while I jogged, asking me on a "date" until I flagged a policeman down), I know what time it is.

This month's theme was sadness. I'm fine now and really, some months there's no wacked out emotion at all. But when I hear men make jokes about "that time of the month" I just want to punch them in a special place. They have no clue how priviledged they are not to have their body make them feel either sad or crazy or crazy angry.

7 things I love

Ah, this is some Monday.... I've been awake since 3:42am.
The smoke detector apparently wants new batteries and isn't afraid to say so very LOUDLY.
After thirty shrill minutes I wanted to smash it to pieces, but luckily it's too high to reach. Which means I also have to find a very tall ladder somewhere and fast.

Wendy received an award today over at Among Mad People.
Yeah, Wendy! :P
She also tagged me so you're going to learn more about Brie than you want to know.

Brie's 7 Loves:

1) A nice snogging. (There I've said it. And it has been almost four years since I last had one, good or bad.)

2) A great red wine, preferrably cabernet or petit syrah. I do like the bubbly too though.

3) Touching. I'm a toucher. The texture of things impact how I feel about them. If I see something I like visually, I have to also like how it feels. This means my bed, sheets, sofa, chairs, shoes, towels etc "feel" nice to the touch.

4) Art that moves me. The medium doesn't matter - just that I connect with it somehow and it makes me feel better, make a change, go out on a limb or feel sad.

5) A very hot and long shower. I do a lot of thinking in the shower and the water never lasts long enough. I also like to sit in the shower and let be.

6) When something unexpected happens and it seems bad, but then turns out better than you could have ever planned.

7) That feeling when someone really sees you for the first time.

It's Mardi Gras!

Today is Mardi Gras day and I miss home.

I miss the insanity, the days off from school and work, the holding of parade spots, the king cakes, the insanity, the rush and push and more insanity.


Growing up in New Orleans it doesn't occur to you that other cities don't do this every year. That everyone isn't off work, well almost everyone since people still need to eat and shop and get gas etc.
You don't realize that seeing drunk people at 7am on a weekday is a big deal in other places. You don't realize that not everyone knows not to slap the police horse's rear end.


I miss my home.
I miss my friends.
I miss hearing Mardi Gras music everywhere. "Mardi Gras mambo, mambo...."
I miss staying out for days at a time, running around until your feet hurt no matter what kind of shoes you wore, encountering "odd" people, watching tourists because you can spot them a mile away and meeting strangers who later become friends (if you remember them later.)


I have so many memories of Mardi Gras with my family and later my friends. Pretending that we were English or dancing with strangers on bars or seeing the usual suspects in the French Quarter. Avoiding tv cameras, well any cameras for that matter. No one wanted to be caught on tape!
I miss Mardi Gras, but I'm happy that there continues to be a Mardi Gras in New Orleans.

Happy Mardi Gras everyone!

Family

An email from my mom today:

Mom: You know your grandmother will be 80 years old next month?
(My maternal grandmother. My paternal grandmother turns 101 this month.)

Me: My grandmother will be 81 years old next month.
(I'm probably going to pay for that later.)

The Link Between Linen Pillows and Rocky Horror

If you've ever been to my home you know that I like pillows. Big pillows, cotton pillows, linen pillows, small pillows, cotton floor cushions (aka LARGE pillows), arm rest pillows (ok, they came with the sofa). Pillows, pillows, pillows.

Several years ago I found these nice linen covered pillows at a discount store. I favored these linen pillows. Over several years the pillows began to leak their stuffing. One by one I've had to say goodbye to them when sewing the edges no longer worked.

And now I am down to my last linen pillow.

This morning I woke up with the last pillow of its kind and went straight to brush my teeth. Looking in the mirrow I realized that this last linen pillow reminded me of the first time I saw the Rocky Horror Picture Show. My friends had all seen it and we go together for my birthday. What no one warned me about was the rice. Someone should always warned others about things that could take up residence in your hair. If someone had said something I would have worn a hat. I enjoyed the movie but I kept finding rice in places, mainly my hair, for two weeks AFTER the movie.

So this morning brushing my teeth in the mirror I was reminded of Rocky Horror because I have little, white tuffs of pillow stuffin in my dreadlocks.
Great.
I am sure I'll be finding little white surprises for weeks. I love my hair, but it does has a hoarding problem.
I can only imagine what people behind me in line at the grocery store will think.

Is it me?

The other night, after my run, I realized I'd somehow caught a cold. I was fine before the run, or at least I felt fine. Afterwards the sneezing started.

I went for a run early in the evening. I used to run daily, but with moving and travel for work got out of the habit. Running for me is important for two reasons: 1) weight control/toning and 2) stress relief. When I run my mind goes blank, which I look forward to happening. I'm always thinking and I welcome my time to focus on nothing.

The weather has been nuts here lately, warm, then cold then overcast with a chance of rain (yet no rain appears) and back to warm and then cold all over again. I put on a sweatshirt that I'd forgotten I had and went out to relieve stress and start getting back into shape. All was fine until I noticed this truck slowing down next to me. Okay, fine, whatever.

I put on my really mean face (people always ask why I'm so pissed off when I run), to show that I wasn't interested. I was jogging. Unfortunately my mean jogger face didn't deter this guy - he drove back and forth and back again, over and over. I yelled that he was being, "#*&@! creepy!" And yet he continued to follow me no matter how mean I looked or how often I crossed the street.

And I complain that men never ask me out on dates.

This unwanted and creepy attention was really pissing me off. Are there prostitutes that jog to attract customers? Is there a group of call girls that work out as a way to entice creepy men? Forget police stings on prostitution, just send some female officers out for a jog. Seriously, why would a woman in bulky sweat clothes remind anyone of a prostitute?!


I couldn't just enjoy my run and I was becoming more stressed rather than less stressed. Finally I flagged down a cop and let him deal with the creepy truck guy. He was nice about it and drove around until I got back to my house. My run was ruined by some idiot and when I got home the sneezing started.

The next morning I was sure that I'd caught a cold. Bleh. So I went to get some herbal tea and homeopathic medicine. I get the medicine without incident and head over to get some tea at a local coffeeshop. For some reason I'm surrounded by cops, not one or three, but no less than six. I drink my tea, thinking positive thoughts about beating this cold, and I notice the guy sitting in front of my table has his camera phone pointing at me. Seems he was trying to "read" some text message - except he wasn't trying to read anything. He kept that phone trained on me the entire time. As soon as I noticed I put my sweater over my front and my book in my face.

The best part? Camera phone guy was there with his wife and trying to get a photo/video of me while the wife sat there. She didn't have a clue and she never looked at his phone.
He finally put it away after I kept the book up and gave him a pissed look.

Why do all the perverts like me?!

Where did the week go?

It's amazing how quickly time disappears when you're off from work. I've been off for one week and I'm wondering why I haven't accomplished much and how the time went so quickly.

A week at work feels like longer than five days. A week off from work feels like one day.

Okay, daily photo in preparation for the 365 Project that I'll officially start (ACK!) on the first day of 2009. Be prepared for some not so flattering photos until I get

1) get to know more about taking self portraits that look like what I see in the mirror

2) get a better camera

3) learn to take better photos while not fearing the camera!

I hope that everyone's holidays are going well - and I don't mean in the Halmark way either. My holidays are rarely of the Halmark variety. :P

I finally

Put up my Christmas tree.

I dragged it from my storage unit last week. I was filled with the idea that I'd put that tree up the minute I got it in the house. And then it sat for a week.

Last night, as the weather in Austin went from 81 degrees to 40 degrees, I finally put the tree up. Each year I have the idea of a picture perfect vision, the tree, the decorations, the lights....and each year I feel like a failure before I ever take the tree out of the box.

But I managed to get it done last night. The photo is sort of bright, but I love how the tree looks. I went down to see it from the street below and in the darkness it is a bright spot.

Not perfection, not picture perfect, but accomplished none the less.

Morning

I am a morning person. Early mornings. VERY early mornings.

I'm not sure if my body is programmed to like the morning best or if I learned it from my family. My mom was a single mother and in college, I was the first grandchild and we lived with my grandparents for a few years. I spent a LOT of time with my grandparents, Paw-paw and Gang-gan, until I moved away from New Orleans nine years ago. I think because I grew up in their house, and then later blocks away, help me have a close relationship with them.

I "ran away" from home a handful of times in my teens - well, I ran to my grandparent's house. I had my own room and another set of pets there. What always bothered me is that my mom never looked for me. Sure, she'd call my grandparents and talk about her day, but she'd never ask if I was there. Years later she told me that she knew I was there...apparently she and my grandmother had worked out a system.


Living with my grandparents meant hearing Paw-paw get ready for work while Gang-gan made his breakfast at 4am. At first I'd sleep until I heard my grandfather leave the house. Then one winter, I realized that if I got up with him my grandpa would share the hot cocoa my grandma made for his thermos.

And from that time on I got up early with both of them and I still get up early. At work I like the early shift and up until three years ago, I woke at 5am and was at work by 6am. There are benefits to going into work early - no traffic. (And I'm crazy in traffic.)

I'm babbling now. My point is that I love mornings; they connect me with my grandparents, now in their 80s.
The mornings are full of possibilities...which sometimes become realities....or not. With work and school it can be easy to forget that the day ahead could bring something unexpectedly great and clarity on some issue/problem from the day prior.
Recently I agreed to take a photo a day for one year, starting 1/1/09. Robin and Wendy are doing this also, so I don't feel so alone. And again, I HATE photos of myself, so I'm trying to get myself ready.
These are photos from my morning:
3) Bootini - since Noona passed he's taken up the role of following my every move in the mornings. Noona would be proud...or annoyed.
2) Second step of the morning - Gabby and his quest for the elixir known as shower water. Seriously, he goes nuts if I don't do this right away.
1) Me - with both cats in the exact same positions. It's a tough crowd sometimes.

Stepping out on a thin branch.

Since I can remember I've had a camera. I loved taking photos of relatives and pets as a kid.
One of my first toys was a Fisher-Price toy camera. I can still here the dull click sound it made when I "took" a photo.

I LOVED that camera.

I don't know if I ever told my mom this or she noticed on her own, but when I got a little older she gave me a real camera. I was the only 8 year old I knew with her own camera. Nevermind that most of the photos were of my family and all my pets.
I'm sure the drugstore loved developing roll after roll of my bunny, cats, hamsters and dogs. My mom was a single parent going to college. In hindsight I'm sure that buying film and those cube flashes and cost her money she could have used on other things. She never said a word to me when I'd dump film in her purse for developing. She never said, "Enough cat photos!" She allowed me to take my photos no matter how mundane.


I still love photography. I still want a really nice camera and lessons on light composition and all the technical things that would help me. I want to capture a moment well enough to share that moment with others. These moments, like my childhood photographs, are never photos of me. I discovered early on that I didn't like photographs of myself. I would pose for them with family during the holidays or some celebration and then just before the click...I would duck out of sight. My family has quite a few photos of everyone and my hands or the very top of my head.


I have reasons for not wanting my image captured that have nothing to do with America's Most Wanted, but these are all personal. And after a conversation with Robin, I've discovered that my reasons aren't so different from the reasons others don't like to be photographed.


All of this brings me to this moment. This weekend Robin suggested doing something others have done, taking a single self- portrait daily for 365 days, one year. Sounds simple for those unafraid of the camera, but not so simple for someone like me.

I want to grow and not just be comfortable in what I already know or have or have experienced. I want to reconcile my brain's image with the camera image. My growth starts on 1/1/09 and I'm interested and terrified of what might happen, but I'm doing it.
Thanks for the idea Robs.

Funk. I had it.

I realized yesterday that despite all the great things in my life, I've been in a funk. For some time. I feel like it sneaked up on me while I was juggling (sometimes poorly) work, school, my place and life.
The funk came to visit and never left.


I want the funk to leave and I've started taking steps to help it find its way to someone or something else. Having been excited about the new person I met, our talks and date, has been great. And I think that having this person persistently pursue me as I pushed him away has made me see my funk. I wouldn't allow him in and rejected him several times, but each time he came back... And finally I realized that I was just creating excuses not to see what would or could happen. The funk will do that - it will convince you that you're better off as you are currently. I am glad I realized that and allowed him into my life because he's a great guy.


It is amazing how once you let someone into your life you expect that connectedness daily. It happens fast.


But I sense he may be pulling away now that I've allowed him into my life. And for the first time in some time, I am not taking his distancing personally. In the past I would have taken it very personally; as a sign that something was wrong with me. Not now, nope.

He is his own person with his own complex issues. So I am allowing him the chance to distance himself or see what happens between us. It feels liberating not to try to figure out what happened or worry about what might happen and to let go of the funk I'd been feeling for some time.

I did it

I finally let go and let someone ask me out. If you know me you are aware that I'd rather walk down a dark and dangerous alley at night than date.

My dates don't go well. If they do (which is RARE) it usually doesn't lead to a second date. Which always make me think, how can two people have a very similar experience yet such a different experience?

I've gone on dates with men who wore utili-kilts. I've got nothing against men in skirts, but I don't want to date one. There are just some things that don't suit me and men in skirts are one of those things.


So someone's been asking me out and I've been putting him off. Okay, I've been saying no, no, no. I made excuses to myself and to him. And then one day I decided that I didn't want to be friends.
I knew there were other women interested in him, so I figured I'd disappear and he wouldn't notice. Apparently he did. We talked and I finally relented.

And I had a great time. I'm actually looking forward to a second date.

Argh.

Lately I've begun to feel like a hamster on a wheel to nowhere.

While I know that I'm working towards a goal, well several goals, it sometimes feels like I'm not moving. After this semester I will have two classes to graduate - two. While that makes me happy it also feels like forever.
And at times it feels anti-climatic. A lot of things feel that way.


I've been struggling for some time now on which color to paint my loft. I know this seems like an easy task but it isn't. I've tried out at least eight wall colors. EIGHT. I've learned that what looks good on paper or in print...may NOT look good otherwise. I think I'm a visual person and it helps me to see the paint on the wall.
I'm not able to imagine what it might look like on the wall, I need it to actually be on the walls. As a result I have five different paint colors on my walls.

Mix the paint issues with school, co-worker drama, incomplete home projects and the stress of dating, or rather not dating, and you get the picture.
I'm starting to withdraw from everything. I don't care to answer the phone or do anything social. Somehow having great grades and the prospect of graduate school aren't enough right now.

I know it isn't rational to think I could have the perfect home, perfect grades, excellent co-workers and endless dating partners. This doesn't mean I don't still try or want those things. I feel like I'm just going through the motions.

Too many shiny things

A friend recently told me that I had high expectations. Initially I was offended because it made me sound like a lot of work. But I realized that she's right, I do have high expectations. I just didn't realize this was a bad trait.


I have high expectations of people. And I'm okay with that. I'm also open to people changing their mind or doing something different, but I do expect that to be communicated. I am not a mind reader.
So, my friend is right. I do have high expectations.

Three day weekends

It's a holiday weekend which means I have three days off from work. The thought of having three days off after the week preceeding those three days off was exciting.

My office is undergoing construction. And while you would think everyone in the office would be suffering due to the noise, dust, various workmen, multiple construction comments and questions, dirty boot prints, mysteriously loud cell phones that play country or rock or surprisingly techno....everyone is NOT suffering. But I am. It seems that all the construction and destruction needs to occur to the left of my desk. It is very stressful. Who am I kidding? It is driving me nuts and not in a funny, we'll laugh about this later way either.

So the idea of a three day weekend has tempted me for months. I thought of all the projects I could complete, or at least start, around the house. I could prime the walls for painting, organize my paperwork, re-arrange my furniture, read extra chapters for class, run each morning, learn german. Yes, yes, I think of ALL the things I can do in three days and the thought of accomplishing one or four of those things is so exciting. I get exciting just thinking about finally having the time and energy to all these unfinished projects.

It's nice to dream.

It is. Where would we be without dreams? So, rather than doing any of the projects that have been taunting me for some time there's a hurricane brewing in the Gulf that forced my entire family to leave New Orleans within days of the anniversary of Katrina. Each of my family members have gone to different locations. In the midst of all of this my great grandmother passed away early Saturday morning. So I woke to a morning filled with hurricane plans mixed with calls from family members each having the other contact other family members with the news.
I spent HOURS online and on the phone finding a hotel with any available rooms. I've sent enough texts to go nuts. I won't count the phone calls in and out but I've used more minutes this weekend than I use in a whole month.

And my great grandmother is gone. Last year we all got together and celebrated her 100th birthday. In October she would have been 101 years old - thinking of this makes me sad. But I remember something she said to me and my mother at the ripe age of 96 years old. We had gone to see her, something my mother did often, and she asked me to comb her hair. This terrified me since I don't even comb my own hair. When it comes to hair and styling it I am clueless. But she told me what to do and I followed her instructions. I was terrified I'd hurt her.
As she talked she said that she was tired. We thought she was ready for bed, but she explained that her mind was alert but that her body was tired. I didn't take her seriously because she was really alive and present and not senile. How could she be tired of living? She explained and it helped me understand as much as I could comprehend living that long when so many people you loved had passed away. Yes, her son, my grandfather and her 90 year old sister are still alive, but so many others she's loved have left. And she was tired herself of course.

I don't know. I'm sad that she's gone but happy that she is no longer suffering. I think about her seeing my aunt and cousin. I know from my mom that in recent months she'd spoken about seeing her mother again. My great grandmother was 100 and her mother died when she was an 11 year old child.
That's 89 years of waiting to see your mother again. I'm sad, but I pray that my great grandmother is free of pain and has seen her mother again.

Bedtime series

In some ways I'm a creature of habit.
I'm spontaneous too, but there are some rituals I like to keep including when I go to bed.
I go to bed early.
There - my secret is out. But I wake up early and don't usually sleep the whole night through so going to bed early is a must.
I go to bed and the cats go to bed. It works for me.

Each night within seconds of me getting into bed Noona got into bed also. For 12 years he curled up behind my head and snored until it was time to do it all over again. I thought he and I would sleep that way forever. I miss his snoring and watching him dream.

My Noona cat is unfortunately now gone.

Boo has taken over his bedtime job with a slight twist, he sleeps in front on me. I decided that I'd take photos of this for one month.
Of course taking these photos means you get to see me just before bed. Hold your excitment please.

Are you sure we're already in mid-August?

Where does the time go.
Specifically where do the months go? I feel like I'm on a hamster wheel trying to keep track of the day or month or year and this month is no exception.
I feel like just yesterday I commented on how it was August already and now August is on its way out. I know, I know, you're thinking that I'm old if I've somehow lost track of time, but I was the same way as a kid. I have already had trouble with time and yes, often I'm a few minutes late to everything. At least I'm consistant, right?

I'm trying to enjoy this time. I'm between classes and work is somewhat quiet this time of year. While I'm grateful for the end of summer course and getting a 4.0, I'm also tired and not ready for the fall. But this will be my last fall as an undergraduate. I have three classes to graduate. (With working full time this will take both the fall and spring semesters.) Fortunately these are my last three classes and I have a scholarship that helps pay for this coming year. I'm both excited and terrified....because now I'm applying to graduate school. I'd like to get my PhD or PsyD but that will certainly mean moving away. Or I could get my Masters right here in town and then later work on earning a PhD.
But - there's always a but somewhere.
I'd like to get my doctorate now and I worry that not doing now may mean that I never earn one. No, it won't be the end of the world and yet I don't want to not earn one. I'm applying to schools now so we shall see what happens.

One of my best friends is serving in Iraq. She's left her most prized item in my care, her cat Gabriel who I call Gabzilla, Gabby the Hun or GabbyTabba. (He's an orange tabby who is on the blond side.)
Anyway, here are some photos of him and my kitty Boo. Yes, I do need to get a life.

I clench.

Each morning I wake up to the same routine. I am greeted by the cats – they wait patiently for me to stop hitting snooze. Of course they purr so loudly I never really fall back asleep. The minute I put my feet on the floor, dry contacts or not, I carefully make my way to the bathroom – Gabby must have shower water. Then I am herded to the kitchen, Bootini must have fresh kibble in his bowl.


When I'm finished I am free to get ready for work and that starts with brushing my teeth before taking a shower. Two months ago I realized I'd chipped a tooth in my sleep. I went to work and made an appointment to see the dentist immediately.


When I arrived I found out that unfortunately my dentist, who I love, passed away since the last time I had any dental work done. I really liked him because he was kind and funny and sometimes flirty, but he always made sure I didn't feel anything. (I have a high tolerance and it can take six to eight shots before I'm numb. And that numbness doesn't last long so the dentist has to work quickly.)

My dentist never made me feel like a freak for needing so many shots. I had searched for some time in Austin for a good dentist because I had others who didn't believe my tolerance was that high. If you cause me pain you will not be my doctor, besides who gets off on having a numb mouth?



After another dentist failed to fix the chipped tooth I was assigned to the partner of my previous dentist. He fixed my tooth, gave me something for the pain and off I went. But the pain never went away and I realized I couldn't eat on that side of my mouth.

A week later I noticed another tooth was throbbing and I reluctantly made another dentist appointment. The day before the appointment the tooth that was hurting stopped and another tooth on the other side began to hurt. When I went in for my appointment they took x-rays and I was sure they would see what was wrong with so many of my teeth.



I'm in the chair wearing that bib they give you (which always make me think of people whacking the shite outta crabs) and my dentist comes in to say that nothing is wrong with my teeth. I just look at him. My teeth have been hurting and I'm aware that my dentist will think I'm nuts if I say that different teeth have been hurting so something must be wrong with the x-rays. But I say nothing. I am not a hypochondriac and I know I'm not crazy – even though most crazy people think they are fine.



My dentist then asks if the pain travels and I reluctantly admit that yes, different teeth have caused me pain on different days. He then asks more questions and hooray I think…. maybe I am not crazy after all.

It turns out that I clench my jaw all the time – the dentist said I'd been doing it for some time based on my jaw muscles. (I also grind my teeth at night – hooray! That must make me a joy to sleep near.)

So I'm not really crazy, but now I have to wear the weirdest mouth piece that makes me talk with a lisp.

Ok, new start

For sometime now I've had the biggest crush on one of my neighbors. I don't know what it is about him, but couldn't name one thing. I just think he's cute and when he smiles at me it feels really, really nice.
But - there is always a but huh? But he's had this girlfriend for a while. She's very pretty and young. He is not young - which I like, but he's with this very young woman - which for the life of me I don't get outside of the biological "men want to ensure they have a next generation garbage." (And even then I still don't get it.)
He's never called her his girlfriend in my presence which bothers me as a woman, but also tells me something is not right in that relationship.
Anyway, I've had a crush for a while and he and I smile at each other, but I'm tired of this game. Besides I don't think what I'm doing is exactly right either - ok, I know it isn't right. I could and would not ever date a man that didn't finalize his past relationship first. I also don't like the idea of flirting while he clearly has a girlfriend so I'm stopping.
That's it. I just needed to get that off my chest.